Amidst a most unprecedented pause, Americans are becoming accustomed to new ways of life. Virtual classrooms and workplaces are the new normal, shuttered businesses are making the most of their limited capabilities, and more and more people are carrying masks as they would their wallets.
Yet for some essential workers, despite changes in routine, duty calls each day like it did months ago. They do not have the luxury of staying home. These are the people who are keeping New York City running.
“At the front door here, it’s like we’re in a war zone,” says Winston Johnson, a doorman working on West End Avenue, echoing the fear felt by many essential workers across the country. He’s been laboring his normal 8 hour, 8:00 AM to 4:00 PM shifts as the pandemic persists. “We’re still in it,” he says. “We’ve had no Covid-19 timeout.” Devoted to his job, he has had to adjust to tremendous changes in his daily routine, many of them frightening.
Johnson, who in October will enter his 20th year working in the building, explained how a place he’s known so well for so long has become an unrecognizable work setting.
“A lot of people aren’t coming through the lobby,” he says of the once friendly, communicative building that has turned quiet and bleak as many residents have fled the city. Those who do remain have been asked by the building not to have long conversations with the staff, out of safety concerns. Johnson had to conduct this interview by telephone.
Johnson and the rest of the building staff have been handed a new set of sanitation responsibilities to stave off the virus. “Everything that is touched, we sanitize,” he says, while stepping away from the phone to collect a package. The building has enacted a new system for all deliveries, where tenants are notified by phone and email whenever their food deliveries or packages arrive. It’s preferred that they come down to pick them up themselves. Staff are also being extra cautious of how they handle these items entering the building from the outside. “We’re spraying some packages with alcohol as they come in,” says Johnson.
The workplace isn’t the only area where Johnson is seeing drastic change. The pandemic’s effects on city transportation have made his usual hour-long commute from Borough Park, Brooklyn to Upper Manhattan exhausting and unrealistic. “Trains used to come by every 10 minutes, but now they come every half hour,” he says. Not to mention, Johnson adds, New York City subways have become a central means of the virus’ spread. “It’s just too dangerous.”
And so, Johnson has made a huge change to his living situation — he’s been forced to stay in the building as he works throughout the week, only able to return home to his wife on weekends. “I came here on Monday morning in a $55 Uber,” he says, of which was paid for with his own money. “I packed my suitcase with all of my clothing. My wife, she loads me up with food. And I sleep here.”
He’s set up a makeshift bed on top of a bench in a backroom of the building’s lobby. When he’s not working his shift, Johnson spends his time there resting. “I relax in the back. Read a book, watch a little television.” Though he’s been able to manage, it certainly hasn’t been a comfortable experience. “I can’t roll over!” he says with a chuckle. He also mentioned that in such an abnormal time, it’s not rare for himself and many others to have sleepless nights, loss of appetite and a blurred sense of time.
One thing that’s helped ease the seemingly never-ending discomfort is the love of Johnson’s family members. Each night, he has phone calls with his two sons, both of whom are staying safe with their own families in Ohio, and his wife, who remains in Borough Park.
On these calls, he’s able to share with his family the one thing that keeps his day a little bit saner and a bit less stressful. It’s the collective expression of gratitude that the city shows essential workers like healthcare professionals, firemen, police, ambulance crews, transport workers, postal workers, — and yes, doormen — every night, with whooping, cheering, whistle-blowing and pot-banging coming from streets and apartment windows. Even his own colleague, Bernie, joins in on the fun by rattling a cowbell from the lobby below. “I enjoy being part of the seven o’clock thank you,” he says. “I come out every night.”
And then, for Johnson, it’s back to work.
Terrific story, Jack! It’s amazing the sacrifices that essential workers are making, and your portrait of a man who even sleeps in his building during the week was eye-opening and poignant. Congrats and thank you!