A drab, joyless existence in Vacationland

Soviet Union supermarket, 1990

It’s taken a while to recognize what’s going on up here in the frozen north, but I think I’ve finally realized the problem: no smiles, even behind the paper masks so many people are wearing.

A spirit of glumness pervades the supermarket I visit once a week. Solo shoppers, none accompanied by children, spouses or friends, sullenly stock their carts while avoiding any comments with other shoppers and maintaining absolute silence. Shoppers are met at the door by an employee counting heads, and the message is clear: do your business and get out, because others are waiting — no dawdling!

Inside, shoppers seemed dispirited, their mood no doubt soured by the lack of choice; you want chicken? There might be a few packages of breasts, lots of wings (since restaurants are no longer in business and the market for them has disappeared), and that’s it. Same limited inventory for pork and beef, and though you might still find toilet paper, it’s probably a 3M product diverted from their sandpaper line. Life in a socialist paradise.

And no interaction, none at all. People are completely silent, even in checkout lines or at the self-serve kiosks. Not that supermarkets were ever great conversation hubs, but people did used to speak to each other, perhaps to comment on a price, or the weather, or to ask a question. You might even occasionally hear laughter. None of that is taking place now, and the atmosphere is not helped by the brooding presence of an army of scolding Karens, ready to pounce on percieved violators of the new social order. In short, it’s oppressive and depressing, yet this “social interaction” is likely to be the sole outside activity for the week. It’s awful.

The hallmark of committed communists was always their complete lack of a sense of humor, and their “that’s not funny!” approach to life has spread to our campuses and media. Now it’s infected the entire society, and that’s sad.