A Dinner in Dublin

Dublin, OH

August 31, 2021

Every era puts invisible shackles on those who live thru it, and I can only dance in my chains. 

– Liu Cixin

Ireland is the richest country in the world, because its capital is always “Dublin”!

– Unknown

In the Catholic Church, it takes several centuries for a doctrine to become a dogma. In secular circles, the same process can be achieved in months.

Or, as recent events have shown, even faster.

Two years ago feels like a different era. At this point, even last month seems like another age. As July began, the pall of pestilence finally seemed to lift. The masks were coming off, people were going out, and life seemed to resume. But now, as August ends, more plagues descend.

With proliferating variants of mandates, monitoring, restrictions, and check points, we don’t know how much longer we’ll be allowed to travel…or even to work. So, while I could, I decided to pay a visit to the office. 

I joined my company in October of 2019. For four months, I was here almost every week. Then…society lost its senses. It still hasn’t found them, and I hadn’t been here since. For all I know, I won’t be here again.

But I’m here now, and was here last night. As we’d expect these days, the ride up was bumpy. Weather was fine on either end, but turbulent in the middle. The remnants of Hurricane Ida rumbled under our path, forcing us to bounce over and around the tempest. As we crossed the Ohio, conditions calmed, and we eased softly into Columbus.

The rental cars were where I remember them, which is a relief. This is among the few sizable airports that still has cars onsite. Most now require us to squeeze into a shuttle like passengers on the Tokyo subway, and be hauled half an hour to some distant lot (in reality, it’s usually about ten minutes to a nearby facility. But it always feels much worse).

But this airport is easy. No more than ten minutes elapse from the time I pull my bag from under the seat in front of me to when I place it in the trunk behind me. Within thirty minutes, I make my way thru or around downtown, past our office, and to the hotel. 

The Marriott looks much as it did when I was last here. Aside from shorter hours at the M-Club, theatrical plexiglass on the front counter, and much smaller crowds in the lobby, little seems to have changed. 

I was unsure who, if anyone, from before le deluge would still be here, so it was refreshing to see a few familiar faces. After an eighteen month interim, I was pleasantly surprised to receive warm greetings last night from Matt behind the bar, and this morning from Tammy pouring the coffee.

I was initially impressed that Matt remembered my order, but he assured me it’s easy to do when someone has the same drink every night. Having poured my nightcap of Duckhorn Cab, Matt offered me a menu. I thanked him and declined, letting him know I’d just come from dinner.

A couple months ago, a new Vice President joined our company, as Sales lead for our Specialty distribution business. A few weeks ago, we agreed we should meet, and did so last night. 

We met at Tucci’s in Dublin. Walking to the restaurant, I realized I’d never been here in the summer. At this time of year the town is a charming slice of upscale Americana. Green space borders either bank of the Scioto, which flows a couple blocks to the east. 

Along High Street, American flags and Irish shamrocks hang from posts and porticos, under the tree-lined shade of successive blocks. Al fresco drinkers and diners filled sidewalk cafés interspersed among bookshops, wine bars, and charming boutiques bearing clothes, coffee, and confections. I felt as tho’ I were wandering thru a Norman Rockwell painting.

Unfortunately, I had time only to walk briskly past, to barely notice what I was missing. But I liked what I ultimately found.

A couple other co-workers joined us, and we had a great time getting acquainted (or re-acquainted) over a bottle of Ferrari Carrano Pinot and respective plates of thick lasagna and light bass. The conversation naturally focused on our company, but inevitably (and regrettably) veered toward topics of the day.

Notwithstanding the recurring release valve of these monotonous missives, I honestly try to keep my mouth shut about the virus. And I did last night. 

But most people don’t. I suppose when you think everyone shares your opinion, you have no compulsion divulging it. That’s not surprising. I do the same when I think I’m among like minds (or among patient and tolerant readers who aren’t). 

Even so, I marvel how quickly we’ve been conditioned to hold in contempt those who deviate from the pre-determined dogma. Particularly when we reflect how often history reveals the proper perspective to have been the one the contemporary majority opposed.

Last night, discussion drifted to corporate “vaccine mandates”. Our Sales leader said he knows three women at a company where such a policy recently forced them into a corner. 

I have no idea who these women are. But I assume they know themselves. I also presume they weren’t pulled from an Afghan cave, so they are well-aware of Covid, and its potential implications. 

But for whatever reason (which isn’t my business, nor their company’s) they are apparently apprehensive about the relative risks of taking the shots. Regardless our perspective, that’s their prerogative. And it’s a company’s prerogative to set terms of employment. Fair enough.

But the dinner conversation was interesting. It was by no means malicious. Yet from within the viral tunnel-vision thru which everything now seems to be focused, it was inadvertently callous. 

Our Sales leader knows these women well, yet couldn’t understand how they could be reluctant to take these vaccines. That’s fine. He doesn’t need to. It should be sufficient to know that they are worried, and to appreciate that they’re in agony over the untenable position into which they’ve been placed. 

Like many others, these ladies are balancing sincere health concerns with an imminent prospect of losing their livelihood. He told us that two of them continue to deliberate. But the other succumbed to the coercion, and took the shot. 

“Oh good”, came the reflexive reply from three-quarters of our table. “That’s great to hear”.

But the silent member of the party couldn’t help but wonder whether his dinner companions were being presumptuous. Is this really “great”? Are we sure it’s such an unequivocal “good”?

The lady who buckled obviously did so under duress. Who can blame her? The real prospect of not feeding her family presumably overwhelmed the potential implications of the injection. But how is she feeling today? Perhaps relieved she’ll keep her job (tho’ perhaps not), but probably not “great”.

Few people who choose not to be vaccinated are unfamiliar with the implications of Covid. Contrary to popular opinion and conventional caricature, most aren’t idiots. According to our Sales leader, this woman certainly isn’t. 

Had she not received the shot, she may have suffered Covid. Vaccinated or not, we all probably will. She was well aware of that. She’s not stupid. But she would at least have made her decision on her terms. That’s all most of us want in medical matters. But now that the chicken has been forcibly hatched, she can’t put it back in the egg. 

Yet even after the syringe came out of her arm, she knows she can still contract and transmit the virus. But to that concern she might now add worries about side-effects from the vaccine. Why wouldn’t she? If this bothered her three days ago, why wouldn’t it now, as the injection flows irretrievably thru her veins?

Whether anyone else thinks those fears are “rational” is immaterial. It’s her perspective that matters. There may never be detrimental consequences from the coerced shots, and probably won’t be.

But how long will her anxiety last? And if there ever are deleterious effects, she must live with the knowledge that she suffered them because (under duress) she succumbed to someone else’s judgment, rather than abiding her own. How do any of us feel when we do that?

Most of us understand, at least on some visceral level, that we are sovereign. We make decisions, and we make mistakes. We can usually live (or die) with them if they are are own, and made without compulsion.

But if we yield our natural instincts and moral compass to pressure from others, we can find it difficult to absolve ourselves, even if we felt we had no choice. That makes sense. If we forgo our values, we yield our essence. And without that, what’s left?

We don’t always know how someone feels when he does something he was coerced to do. But it’s usually not very good, and he usually feels it pretty quickly.

He may then continually await the adverse consequences he knew could occur, and that he tried to avoid. And he often regrets subjecting his personal perspective to popular pressure or professional obligation. And he might never forgive himself for doing so.

Whenever we’re inclined to impose our will, and to tell people what they must do or how they should feel, it’d be nice to at least acknowledge that.

JD