Wednesday, July 8, 2020

The party is scheduled for this evening in the park. During the day, bags of groceries appear in the company kitchen. The meat is in the freezer. About fifteen minutes before we’re supposed to head over, I ask what’s happening. No one knows. We can’t do it in the park. The city tells us that people can gather there, but they can’t use the park's facilities. They specifically tell us that no one can barbecue. They blame the Ministry of Health. The bosses text the building manager. They ask if we can do it on the roof. We can’t. We’re not insured for it. We contact the city to ask if we can do it on the beach. We can’t. Once again, we specifically can’t barbecue. We call the Ministry of Health. After a long wait on hold, we ask if we can do it in a park in another town nearby. They tell us that no one can barbecue in any park anywhere. One by one, people wander off. We wonder if we can do the party without the meat. We go to look at what we have. It isn’t there. Two coworkers have taken the groceries home with them to put in their refrigerators. The refrigerator in the office kitchen is already full of lunches and the like. We think of trying the party tomorrow. We can’t. Tomorrow, many of the workers are fasting. I say goodbye to the retiring programmer and head home. Later, the bosses send pictures to the staff over WhatsApp. The six people still in the office have scrounged up some hummus, pita, and vegetables. They are together in the conference room. They present the programmer with a collage of photos of the staff. Text printed on it, in a classic Biblical font, thanks him and wishes him well. The bosses let us know that he would be happy to come back if we decide to try the party again.