This was incredible kindness, and, for me, incredible luck. If not for them, I would be at work right now, getting ready to clean down deli slicers, change my gloves and hope desperately for my own safety, and the safety of my spouse, friends, family, co-workers and customers.

Now I sit at home and think the same things, knowing I’ve more or less certainly been exposed. I feel guilty but at least slightly safer, while my brave co-workers (most of whom have no other choice) carry on without me. I start work again the week of March 31, assuming I feel safe enough to do so. I’m trying to take things a day at a time.

The human beings who are helping you — at supermarkets, at gas stations, at whatever stores are still open — are people too. We are exhausted. We have already been working for so long, for so little, afraid or not allowed to take sick days, afraid or not able to afford a vacation.

Service workers have families and friends we are concerned about. We are scared for ourselves and for each other. We are here, working, while you enjoy what may be the last good days for a long while, because the crisis is almost certainly going to get a lot worse.

A good day for me, before the virus, was one where no one screamed at me over rotisserie chicken, or when a salad they were under no obligation to buy didn’t suit their tastes. A bad day was one where customers screamed at me more than once.

Now, as things get harder — as our collective stress level rises — I beg you to show kindness to service workers. I beg you not to take out your fear, frustration and despair on the courageous people who show up every day to help you. All of them would surely love to be at home but most cannot, despite their years of hard work, afford to step away for even a moment.

Don’t let the weight of your grief and anger fall on the shoulders of service workers. They are already carrying enough.

Dylan Morrison (@dylan_thyme), the author of “Juniper Lane,” is a food service worker at a supermarket in Cleveland.

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