COVID-19: Voices of the Unemployed

By Linda McCain

The report was dated June 16, 2020, and read, “There are currently twenty-one million unemployed Americans but around thirty million Americans collecting unemployment benefits.” Patrice Myers stared at the information she had googled out of curiosity and tried to imagine what it would be like or feel like to be unemployed—to live every day with escalating bills, the threat of being homeless, no medical insurance, and no means of transportation. Yet as indicated by the staggering and heart-wrenching number of those unemployed, this is how millions of people were living as COVID-19 relentlessly and mercilessly claimed its victims, causing millions to be out of work and the world to yield to its destructiveness. Unbeknownst to Patrice, she, too, would soon become a victim of the deadly virus, forcing her to fight to stay afloat in the ocean of the unemployed.

Patrice Myers, a thirty-two-year-old attractive woman and manager of the MaCarthy Nursing Home is a compassionate woman who loves her job and craves the daily interaction with the elderly ones she feels privileged to care for and protect. Her job affords her, being single, a modest income—an income that allows her to pay her rent, buy groceries, pay bills, and to put gas in her reliable although very much used Honda Civic. Suddenly, due to COVID-19, her life is thrown into disarray and uncertainty when the nursing home where she works is shut down and terminates her job! The deadly virus that was sweeping the globe and causing millions to be either left unemployed, furloughed, fighting for their life, or dead had now claimed her as one of its victims.

Unemployed and relying on enhanced unemployment payments, part of an act passed by the 116th Congress to assist those unemployed, Patrice realized this assistance had an expiration date. July 31, 2020, was the day the enhanced unemployment benefit of an additional six hundred dollars per week was scheduled to end. She sat and listened intently to a reporter who reported on the arguments of some members of Congress who were either for or against the extension of enhanced unemployment payments. “Failed discussions, no agreement” were the words that stuck in her mind from the reporter and would significantly impact her ability to survive for the next few months that were quickly progressing toward maybe even years. She thought, Members of Congress get to have their voice heard, but what about the voices of the unemployed?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Jan 25, 2022
• ISBN: 9781662450228

Book preview

Chapter 1

While most people focused on the things they felt most important in life, Patrice Myers focused on the importance of life itself. Never one to take a single breath for granted, Patrice endeavored to enjoy every second of her life. She realized that whether one chose to acknowledge it or not, the fact remained that life was fleeting and all mankind’s eventuality was the same, be you rich or poor.

When challenges in her life surfaced, too often unexpectedly, and always at the worst possible time, she fought hard to turn each challenge and every obstacle that threatened to prevent her from overcoming the challenge into an achievement. She felt that her greatest challenge in life was and always would be that of changing the numbers she peered down at every morning on her bathroom scale to the numbers she left behind at age sixteen.

Thirty-two years old, attractive, and self-motivated, Patrice was her own best friend and had an infinite love for the elderly and children. She vowed that she would always work in some way to care for these two groups of people. These two groups of people, she felt, were the most vulnerable in a world quickly progressing from bad to deplorable. She acknowledged early on in life that if she just had to work to support herself and if her knight in shining armor simply refused to rear his handsome head and ride her off into the sunset, then it would be at a job where she could care for, protect, and support the elderly and children.

She had nothing against working; actually, she found it gratifying. What she didn’t care for was working a job that didn’t afford her the opportunity to acknowledge those in need and, more importantly, offer them assistance in some way. Her sister, Paris, often teased her that she was in danger of being labeled a do-gooder, to which she simply responded, And that is a label I would wear proudly.

Patrice loved children and loathed the belief of some that children should be seen and not heard. She had never understood such reasoning. After all, she recognized that children are the future and that without them, there is no tomorrow, so their voice should absolutely be heard.

She felt that one of the most beautiful things about children is that when they look at another human being, they don’t mentally record the color of their skin or the person’s status in life; they simply see a person. Children, unlike most adults she knew, more often than not, told the truth. She was a firm believer that the right to be heard and to have a voice was a gift not just to children but also to everyone and that this gift should especially be acknowledged when a person’s very life was endangered in any way.

Standing at a distance, Patrice stared at the two-story brick building surrounded by a lawn that looked as if it had never been mowed. Trash covered the walkway that led to the entry of the building, peeling paint flaked off the front of the building that, at one point in time, she figured might have been white but was now beige due to the passing of years. The worn, now-rusty, and barely legible sign on the building looked like if you simply blew on it, it would come crashing to the ground. The MaCarthy Nursing Home was written in faded black letters on the sign. Nursing home? Looks more like a structure for the dearly departed. No nursing-home sign should look like that. No nursing home should look like this, period, Patrice said to herself, slowly shaking her head.

She pulled off her Sketchers and replaced them with a pair of wedge-heeled suede boots. After all, this was her first day, and she wanted to make a good impression. Walking in the door to the nursing home, she almost tripped over a case of water that occupied space beside and in front of the door. She looked at the case of water and then at the woman sitting behind the desk. Her overly made-up face and too long eyelashes made her appear more suited for a job at a makeup counter than a nursing home.

Approaching the desk and when practically on top of the woman, Patrice hoped she would at least greet her with a smile and ask if she could help her. The woman did neither and continued to text, play a game, or whatever she was doing on her phone that seemed more important than doing her job, which, at the moment, involved greeting and helping Patrice.

Good morning! My name is Patrice Myers, and I start today. Mr. Jerrod Wilson, please. He is expecting me.

Never taking her eyes off her cell phone, the young woman yelled to the back of the office, Hey, Jerry, there is a lady out here to see you!

Thirty minutes later, Jerrod appeared, all three hundred pounds of him, Patrice guessed.

Jerrod rushed to Patrice as best as he could and extended his hand to her for a handshake. I’m Jerrod. What can I do for you? And please make it quick. The patient in room 11 just threw up all over herself!

Patrice smiled and pretended not to see Jerrod’s hand. She felt it better to do this rather than rudely disregard his effort at politeness altogether. Hello, I’m Patrice Myers, the new manager.

Jerrod’s mouth fell open, and he stared at Patrice for a second before saying, New manager? When did we get a new manager?

Today, Patrice said while her smile never wavered.

Yes, ma’am. I’m sorry it took me so long to get out here… I was…

Not a problem, Patrice said while taking a quick glance at the woman behind the desk, hoping that she would put her cell phone away. She didn’t, and Patrice’s annoyance rose from a nine to a ten on her anger scale. Still, she tried not to show it and continued to smile as she turned back to Jerrod.

I will show you to your office, Jerrod rushed to say.

Thank you, but before you do, is there a maintenance person here?

Yes, ma’am, Jerrod said nervously as sweat found its way down the side of his face, resting on the collar of his too tight shirt that emphasized every bulge. Patrice looked in her bag and dug out a tissue to hand him. He took it quickly and glanced in the direction he had originally come from.

I’m sorry, but the patient. The patient in room 11, she needs my attention…

We can head to my office shortly. But will you please ask maintenance to sweep the front of the building and mow the lawn after you have attended to the patient?

Excuse me?

Patrice looked at Jerrod, smiled again, and tried to give him the benefit of the doubt that his response was the result of not comprehending what she had just asked of him rather than disbelief that she had made such a request. I’m sorry, Jerrod, perhaps I stuttered a little, so I am going to repeat what I said to you. Please. Have. Maintenance. Sweep. The. Front. Of. The. Building. And. Mow. The. Lawn, Patrice said a little too loudly, but she wanted to make sure he not only understood her but also heard every word she had just said to him.

The woman sitting behind the desk burst out laughing. Patrice slowly turned to look at her. Was there a joke just told? Because if so, I didn’t get it. I’m dead serious about what I asked Jerrod to do. The woman stared at Patrice for a second then rolled her eyes and turned back to her cell phone.

Jerrod rushed off and returned twenty minutes later, followed by a frail man with full lips and clothes that looked as if they would fall off him any minute. This is Pippa. He takes care of the grounds, Jerrod said nervously and wiped at the sweat that had almost covered his forehead.

Hello, Pippa, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I can tell we are going to be seeing a lot of each other. Has Jerrod told you what I’d like you to do, please?

Pippa smiled, revealing a missing tooth surrounded by other teeth that needed a good cleaning three years ago. Patrice wondered how they were still attached to his tiny gums and hadn’t fallen out due to decay. She made a mental note to somehow tactfully suggest to him to take off a day and see a dentist. Yes, ma’am, right away, ma’am!

Thank you, Pippa, and when you’re done, will you please store this case of water where it should go? Patrice said while pointing to the case of bottled water. Also, if you don’t mind, would you please make sure the front of the building, particularly the walk leading to the entry of the building, is kept free of trash and the lawn cut every week? Pippa grinned then hurried off to do as instructed.

Now, Jerrod, would you please show me to my office? Jerrod turned to lead the way, and Patrice started to follow. Stopping suddenly, she turned her attention to the woman at the front desk, who sat, staring at her.

Patrice examined the woman mentally, allowing her eyes to take in her countenance and pretty but overly made-up face. I’m sorry, what is your name, please?

My name is Erica, and I don’t do windows, the woman said with a scowl.

And nor do you work here any longer, Patrice said with impatience. I, as of right now, am giving you two weeks’ notice, Erica!

Erica jumped up and put her hands on her hips. What! You can’t just fire me! I have rights!

"I can, and I did just fire you! For the remainder of your time here, you are never to use that tone with me or anyone else in this nursing home."

On what grounds are you firing me? Erica said angrily.

Failure to do your job and a poor attitude.

I do my job!

Patrice walked over to Erica and looked at her for a second before saying, The minute I walked in that front door, you should have put your personal phone away, replaced your look of indifference with a smile, even if it meant faking it. Your focus should have been on me, not your cell phone. A polite greeting with an eagerness to please would have erased the tension between us, resulting from your obvious hostility and my eagerness to address it. Patrice lowered her voice before saying, You didn’t even pass the test of faking a smile. And your attitude? Patrice slowly raised her eyebrows at Erica. Need I say more?

I don’t need this! Do this job yourself!

Okay, I will. Do you need me to help you clear the desk of your things so I can get there?

Erica shook her head, grabbed her bag, and stormed toward the door. She stopped, anger distorting her beautiful face. Patrice sensed that Erica wanted to use every expletive known to man, starting with the beginning of the alphabet to the very end. Don’t do it, Erica. Remember, you are going to need me as a reference. Erica snatched open the door and walked out, not even bothering to close it behind her. Jerrod rushed over to Patrice and stared at her.

What are we going to do? Who will answer the phones and cover the front desk?

I will until I hire a replacement. I was a receptionist for years; I think I can figure this system out. Do I have an assistant assigned to me here?

Yes, ma’am, that would be me, Jerrod said hesitantly.

Great! Let’s get to work! Would you please bring me the files on all of the patients here? Please also bring me a roll of paper towels and something to clean this desk and area with.

Jerrod looked at Patrice quizzically. You want all the files? You mean you want the file on each patient?

Yes, that’s correct. I learned from my research that there are about fifteen patients here. I’m sure it should take you no time to retrieve their files. I mean, it shouldn’t, not if you are as efficient as I assume you are. If that is the case, you should easily just be able to pick them all up. All fifteen of them, and bring them to me. Is that going to be a problem?

No, ma’am, sure…right away.

Jerrod? Patrice, my name is Patrice. We are a team; we work together, so please call me Patrice or Patty for short. Do we have a deal? she said with a smile.

Jerrod smiled and started to relax. Sure!

Chapter 2

Patrice was leaving work for the day and almost at her car when she looked up and saw Erica standing in front of it, blocking the door to the driver’s side. She slowed her steps and looked at her; Erica stared back at her for a few seconds before saying, Who do you think you are? What gives you the right to just roll up and take my job away from me? I have a three-year-old daughter to feed!

Move away from my car, Erica, before I call the police.

Erica crossed her arms and leaned against Patrice’s car. I asked you a question, and I am waiting for an answer. I’m sure you can come up with one, a well-educated woman such as yourself.

Patrice stepped closer to her car while pulling out her cell phone. She was furious and refused to be intimidated. You know nothing about me or my education. Get out of my way! I am not going to ask again.

I know what the requirements for your position are. All of them, including the education requirement. I also know what you are being paid. I need my job! Erica shouted at her.

"Then you should have conducted yourself professionally before you lost it. Sitting behind that front desk was not something you were owed; it is something you have to earn as far as I am concerned. You know, kind of like you earn a paycheck if you actually work… Make sense?

And you hear this: my education and how much I’m paid for my position at MaCarthy is none of your business. And if I find you have been snooping around or searching my employee file or any employee file for that matter, you are going to wish you had never met me!

Patrice started dialing 911 and hoped, for Erica’s sake, that she would move away from her car. She glanced at her before saying, You need to think seriously about the repercussions of your actions right now, Erica.

All right, all right! I’m moving, Erica said as she moved away from the car.

Patrice quickly pushed past her and got in her car. She started it up then glanced at Erica, who was now walking slowly away. Not noticing any other parked cars on the lot, Patrice wondered where Erica was walking to and how far she would have to go to get there.

She slowly followed her for a few minutes and tried to end the mental debate in her head that was about to drive her crazy. I need my job and three-year-old battled with the thoughts of You know nothing about this girl. You just fired her, and now you want to give her a ride. The annoying, opposing thoughts made her say to herself, I don’t know who is crazier—Patrice, you, or Erica. The fact that Erica had a three-year-old won the battle of words in her mind. Patrice slowly pulled up beside her and stopped.

Get in, Patrice said softly.

Erica looked at her. No way! You just fired me today. I’m not giving you a chance to take me somewhere and kill me.

Erica, I am not that kind of person, and you know it. I’m sorry I lost my temper with you back there. Please, just get in the car.

"Well, you just ought to be sorry. My goodness, you should have acted with more professionalism since you so impolitely pointed out that I have none. And why do you want me to get in your car? Where are you trying to take me?"

Patrice bit her tongue and gave Erica a tremulous smile. I… I just want to talk. Please, can we talk? I am willing to start over if you are…please?

Erica slowly walked around to the passenger side and climbed in the car. Patrice glanced at her, noticing her beautiful hair and eyes. Erica was skinny, too skinny, Patrice felt.

What is your daughter’s name?

What?

Your daughter, what is her name?

Erica put on a big smile and quickly pulled out her cell phone. She started showing Patrice pictures of a bright-eyed little girl with scattered bangs and long pigtails. Kennedy! Her name is Kennedy! Isn’t she beautiful? She is so smart, my world, my reason for living! She loves gummy bears, Erica said excitedly as she scrolled through picture after picture of her daughter to show Patrice.

Patrice smiled, turned her attention away from the pictures, and looked up at Erica. Are you hungry? Is there someone to care for Kennedy a little longer this evening?

Yeah, she is with my grandmother, the only person I trust to watch Kennedy!

Do you think she would mind watching her a little longer this evening?

No, Kennedy lives there. I mean, we live with my grandmother. She takes care of Kennedy during the day while I work…well, when I had a job, before you unjustifiably fired me, that is. She lets us live with her and only charges me three hundred dollars a month for rent. She is my angel, my grandmother. I will text her right now to let her know I will be a little late, Erica said excitedly.

Patrice waited for Erica to send the text then pulled into traffic. How old are you, Erica?

I just turned twenty! That makes me a full-fledged woman now!

Oh, really?

Yep! What about you? Do you have any children? Is there a boyfriend or husband? How old are you?

Patrice laughed. No children, boyfriend, or husband, and I’m in my thirties.

Wow!

What?

You are so pretty, that is, when your face is not all frowned up at people and making them do stuff. I can’t believe there isn’t at least a boyfriend.

Patrice laughed. Nope, just me and my twin sister, Paris. I only frown when I’m given a reason to, Erica. I think you’re pretty too. Are you biracial?

Yep! My mother was white, and my father was black. I got the best of both worlds, baby! Speaking of Paris, I would love to go to Paris someday.

Erica, Paris is my sister’s name.

I know. Still, one day, I would love to go to Paris!

*****

Pulling into a parking space once they arrived at the Hazz Grill, Patrice put her car in park and let out a small sigh as she observed the growing line of those waiting to get in. The food here is great! They have everything to eat imaginable, from salads to amazing burgers, but there is always a long line. Turning to Erica, she smiled and said, I hope this is okay with you. Hopefully, the wait will not be too long.

Yeah, perfect! I’m not picky when it comes to food. I’ll eat just about anything!

Okay, let’s get in line then.

After a thirty-five-minute wait, Patrice and Erica were finally seated in a small booth. Erica looked at Patrice. You are not as bad as I thought you were. Can I have my job back? I bet you and I would make a great team! You could teach me a few things, and I could teach you how to dress.

Patrice looked down at herself and frowned. What? What’s wrong with the way I’m dressed?

Erica laughed and pointed at Patrice. "It’s boring! Look at you! Your dress is too loose-fitting. It just flops all over you. And wedges…not bad, I guess. You have a terrific figure for a woman your age. Show it off; go with something a little more fitted. Your boots, I think you should go for a slim heel. Something with color, not the basic brown or black.

A little color would do you good. A bright lipstick would do wonders for your face. That shade you are wearing isn’t bad, but again, you need more color, woman! Why don’t you try rocking a bright fuchsia? Don’t be scared to live outside the box! I tell you what, I bet you could get a man if you didn’t look so boring. Look, try this with your cheeks, Erica said as she enthusiastically demonstrated to Patrice with her own cheeks how she should try pinching her cheeks to give them a little color. Patrice just looked at her. Do it, try it! It’s easy, just do this, Erica said as she reached across the table to pinch Patrice’s cheeks.

Patrice quickly leaned back to avoid Erica pinching her cheeks. Erica! No! I don’t want or need my cheeks pinched. Thank you very much!

"Suit yourself, just means you will never be sending out wedding invitations. Your hair, well, that’s a whole other story, but we can get to that later. I have to work on your clothes first. Your nails? Put some tips on those things, woman. Your hands look like my grandma’s hands! I’m a nail tech. Why don’t you let me hook you up for free? But only your first time," Erica said with a big smile.

Wow! Maybe I’d better hire you back so you can help me get my look together before I’m thrown into jail for looking such a mess, Patrice said and burst into laughter. Erica laughed too and picked up her menu.

The waitress appeared to take their order, and Patrice looked at Erica, encouraging her to go ahead and place her order first.

Erica held her menu, flipping from page to page, as she placed her order. Let’s see, I would like a garden salad with onions. Please don’t forget the onions, ma’am. I see on page 2 that you have salmon, but it doesn’t say that it’s blackened. Is it possible to blacken it and top my salad with it, please?

The waitress looked at Erica and forced a smile. Sure, of course!

Thank you. Would you also make sure the dressing, absolutely nothing other than a vinaigrette, is brought on the side? No bread for our table, please. Bottled water, you do have bottled water?

The waitress shifted to take some of the pressure off her feet and to maintain her composure although Erica was really trying her patience. Yes, ma’am, we do. Will that be all for you?

Erica flipped to another page of the menu. Just one more thing. You might want to suggest to the manager that they remove pork from the entire menu; I see you have a lot of foods made with pork on page 7. Pork is not good for you at all! The waitress looked at Erica as if she had lost her mind and then at Patrice, who sat, staring at Erica in disbelief but said nothing and allowed her to finish.

Miss, I don’t have the authority to make such a suggestion to the manager. And if I may add, your feeling that pork should be removed from the menu is, I’m sure, not in agreement with the many others who dine here and like pork. I happen to love pork, the waitress said without trying to conceal her irritation.

Erica looked at the waitress, smiled and said, Well, I can certainly see that you are a lover of all types of food, so no surprise that pork is one of them. Oh well, not a problem. Was just a suggestion.

Oh God, Patrice said and lowered her head. The waitress walked off and returned six minutes later with the manager, a tall man with large-framed glasses, dark hair, and piercing eyes.

Hello, I’m sorry, is there a problem? Can I help you in some way? the man asked nervously.

The waitress was angry and pointed at Erica as she spoke. This woman just insulted me! I stood here patiently, trying to take her order, and she blatantly insulted me!

Patrice smiled nervously at the manager and the waitress. I’m terribly sorry if there has been some confusion. I’m sorry, miss…

Ashely, The waitress said in a huff. My name is Ashley!

Ashley, what a lovely name, it fits you, Patrice said while broadening her smile.

The waitress immediately calmed down and looked out of the corner of her eye at the manager. It’s okay, Mr. Green, I’ll take it from here. Mr. Green turned on his heels and walked swiftly away. Ashley then turned to Patrice and took her order while Erica sat and looked as calm and innocent as a dove.

After the waitress left, Patrice stared at Erica. "Erica, I thought you said you were not a picky eater,