The brutal calculus of going back to work.
As of last Wednesday evening, it's been two weeks since I've been away from my job. I contemplate going back to work at some point. I could, because the company is considered essential and last I heard, it's still going.
If it was just me, I'd weigh the pluses and minuses and maybe come down on the side of going back to work, even given that the availability of tests and PPE is iffy, and given the likelihood that the company will probably not be able to do enough reconfiguration to help out much with social distancing. I'm not young and I don't think I have that many good years left. Better to spend them doing something useful rather than vegging in the apartment in my PJ's. There is a certain appeal in being one of the guys riding to the rescue. Money is a thing too.
But -- it's not just me. I live with my GF in a small apartment. If I get it, she could too. Then either of us could pass it on to someone else. It'd be nice to think we'd get through that OK, but terrifying to think about what it would be like if not.
There's nothing special about me. We're all in this together. Everything each of us does affects everybody else. Wanna be the rugged individual who takes on the risks but accepts all the consequences? Well, forget it. That's no longer possible, if it ever was.
Want to be Ayn Rand? You'll have to find a desert island and go there.
