On a late January afternoon, as Tom Feegel scrolled through sales figures on his laptop, the businessman realized that something was amiss.

This was weeks before the novel coronavirus began dominating headlines in the United States, before the Bay Area was put on lockdown, before “social distancing” entered the public lexicon. On this ordinary weekday, the president of EO Products was still living in a familiar world.

The figures on his screen, though, indicated something else. The company’s hand sanitizer sales were beginning to skyrocket. “A super spike,” as Feegel remembered it.

Hand sanitizer wasn’t the main product of the 150-employee company. EO Products — short for “Essential Oils” — dealt in niche organic body and hair care, first retailing at Whole Foods before hitting the shelves of Target and Walmart. Based in San Rafael, the private company makes about $100 million in sales annually — far less than the $370 million made by Gojo Industries, which manufactures the leading sanitizer, Purell.

In that moment, Feegel realized that soon the company’s focus would no longer be on sulfate-free shampoo and lavender-scented bubble bath. In the coming weeks, the company would become a first responder, in a way, to a deadly pandemic where the main answer was to stay at home — and to wash one’s hands, to sanitize one’s hands.

“By February, everything we thought might be happening was happening,” Feegel said. “This is one of those once-in-a-lifetime challenges when the normal rules of business are reconsidered.”

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As the number of coronavirus cases across the United States soared, sanitizer and soap became nearly impossible to obtain. Panicked consumers emptied grocery store aisles and filled online shopping carts, stockpiling the products, along with bleach and toilet paper (and — oddly enough — bananas and yellow onions).

During a four-week period ending on Feb. 22, Nielsen reported a 73% jump in sanitizer sales. “Based on trends elsewhere, sales won’t peak for some time,” the analytics firm said in its report.

The spike in demand has befuddled and amazed EO executives, who have quadrupled production of sanitizer in the form of wipes, spray and gel, and soap — normally their less popular products. All “without increasing prices,” Feegel is quick to note.

Several weeks into his new normal, on an overcast morning in mid-March, Feegel walked through EO’s nondescript warehouse 20 miles north of San Francisco in Marin County. About 75 workers in blue gloves and hairnets paralleled the production lines, screwing spray tops onto bottles. The air slightly smelled of flowers, and they spoke to each other in muted Spanish.

Outside, Highway 101 was desolate, and schools and government buildings sat empty. But inside, the activity — deemed “essential” — continued at a feverish pace. Plastic bottles hurtled down a conveyor belt, where they were filled with scented goop — lavender and grapefruit, coconut-lemon and peppermint — then pushed through a label-maker and into awaiting boxes. Sanitizer whirred past by the thousands, enough to make an Amazon shopper weep.

EO Products has seen a 1,300% increase in demand on its website since that late January afternoon, when Feegel first noticed that super spike. Normally, seven production lines run in the company’s warehouse, manufacturing everything from shampoo to deodorant. Now, five of those seven are only focused on sanitizer and soap. The company is churning out 1 million hand sanitizer products a month.

Additional employees have been hired in the warehouse, while support staff works from home. The warehouse workers crank out products for the company’s two brand lines: the higher-priced EO and the more affordable Everyone, which sells in stores like Target and Walmart. Both lines’ sanitizer are about 50% pricier than those from Purell. But the higher prices seem to have no effect on demand.

EO Products recently partnered with the city and county of San Francisco to deliver — what else? — hand sanitizer. Last week, more than 8,000 bottles went to the city’s Emergency Response Center at the Moscone Center.

In the warehouse, Feegel ducked past machines depositing gel into both gallon-size and miniature containers, which once on sale would be gone within hours. “It’s all hands,” he said, pausing. “All hands on deck, and all thinking about hands. That’s really what we’re focusing on. We’ve trained for this, to some degree, but this isn’t routine for us.”

Everyday life at the warehouse has changed, too. Security guards now patrol the parking lot, fending off desperate consumers who seek to buy directly from the factory. The lobby has been turned into a break room, so production staff can eat lunch while “social distancing” from each other. Employees fill out health surveys before reporting to their shifts.

Customer service calls have increased by 340%, with people begging for sanitizer. Each has a heart-tugging story: an immuno-compromised loved one, a family member working in health care, an elderly parent. But Feegel said the company can’t dole out sanitizer to every caller.

Instead, he said, the company hopes to help by getting its products into the hands of first responders and essential workers — hospital workers, Lyft drivers. For EO’s co-founder, Brad Black, who started the company with his ex-wife and helps out in the warehouse, that includes the police station in his Inner Richmond neighborhood. The company is also ramping up shipments to their big-box retailers, for the widest distribution.

EO has faced shortages of its own. Last month it ran out of the aluminum seals that top the sanitizer bottles; the product is regulated by the FDA, meaning that finding a replacement top took precious extra time from production. (The agency has since relaxed its guidelines to kick-start production.) Black has also worried about dwindling alcohol shipments from Brazil and spray tops from China.

Still, he believes the 25-year-old company will prevail.

“Part of the feeling is that we are making bullets for World War II,” Black said. “It’s different, and it’s the same.”

At the back of the warehouse, flats of sanitizer were marked for their destinations: Amazon, Walmart, Whole Foods. A special section was marked for Canada, with bilingual instructions in French and English. Before the bottles were shipped to grocery stores and online retailers, though, there was one final step: An employee quietly blessed the shipment.

Maria Martinez, who goes by “Meche,” has worked at EO Products for 17 years. She felt lucky to still have a job, lucky that she and her fellow production-line workers could help in their small way. As the bottles passed her on the conveyor belt, she prayed that no customer would fall ill to COVID-19.

“To be able to come to work and provide is a great thing,” Martinez said. “During this crisis, everyone needs to be more in love with their family — and not just their family, but everyone around them, the whole world. We have to take care of each other.”

Lizzie Johnson is a San Francisco Chronicle staff writer. Email: ljohnson@sfchronicle.com Twitter: @LizzieJohnsonnn