Back to work diaries: what was it like for those who had to return after lockdown?
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Version 0 of 1. A cleaner, a nanny, an electrician and a fast-food worker on the difficulties of travel and social distancing Many workers unable to do their jobs from home filed nervously back into workplaces last week after Boris Johnson insisted they should return, and the government issued back-to-work guidance for previously dormant, non-essential sectors of the economy. The Observer spoke to four workers in different sectors about their first days back in the midst of a still raging global pandemic, which is much more likely to claim the lives of low-paid or manual workers than middle-class professionals, according to new Office for National Statistics data. The cleaner Lotlot Sosorria’s journey to clean her first home in nearly two months was a nerve-racking ordeal. She had to catch two crowded buses in the morning to get to the house and then two even busier buses in the afternoon to get back to her rented single room in north London. “It’s too early to come back to work because of this pandemic,” she says. “I have to take public transport. I had to sit by another person. We were in touching distance. In the afternoon it was also very busy. I don’t know who is carrying the virus – it’s so scary.” Sosorria had little choice but to return to work after the government issued guidance on working in other people’s homes on Monday. The 43-year-old had been subsisting for weeks on charity handouts and the generosity of friends, as migrant domestic workers cannot claim benefits. “I have to work because I don’t have money coming in,” she says. “I owe my landlord two months’ rent.” She usually sends most of her earnings back to the Philippines to pay for her children’s education. “For almost two months, I didn’t have any work. I didn’t send any money to them,” she says. “It was paying for their schools, for their food, for everything.” The family whose house she cleaned asked her to come to their home when the rules changed last week. They left gloves along with hand sanitiser at the door and kept their distance while she worked. “Maybe they cannot handle the dirt any more,” she says. But she is worried she might bring the virus into the house: “They are not going out much. I am going to public places and using public transport. Maybe I will bring it to their house. It is very difficult for me.” She was safe in her room when she spoke to the Observer but she had to brave London’s public transport system again this weekend. “I think it is unfair because it is so scary to be working at this time. There are so many infected with the virus,” she says. “We should be staying at home.” The construction worker Steve Taylor, an electrician, reluctantly went back to work last week on a busy construction site in in Farringdon, central London. “There are probably a couple of hundred people on the site. It’s a big job,” he says after finishing for the day. Although the site provides masks and insists on regular hand-washing, there is no way of avoiding close contact with other construction workers. “People are passing you constantly. People are blowing their nose and spitting everywhere,” he says. “It’s disgusting.” Taylor, 38, worked on a staircase on Friday. “Maybe 20 or 30 people passed me in close proximity,” he says. When he gets back to his home in Herefordshire, he does his best to protect his family. He showers and changes his work clothes before he greets his children and wife. But he fears he could still be carrying the coronavirus: “I’m worried about my family. I’m concerned about what I could potentially bring home to them.” Despite the risk, he has to work because he has no money coming in. He was earning just above the threshold for self-employed workers to get help from the government before the lockdown was imposed in March. He says: “I’ve got a mortgage and a young family. My partner doesn’t work so I have to work.” Taylor firmly believes there is a real class divide opening up between those who can and can’t work from home, with construction workers feeling like “guinea pigs” for the government’s plans to get more people back to work. “They want to see what this virus is doing,” he says. “If we’re OK then they can bring other people back.” The nanny Sarah Reece works for a wealthy couple in a three-storey house with a large garden in London. She has been furloughed at home since late March, but they asked her to come back to their house when the rules changed. “They wanted me back straight away because they said ‘they couldn’t cope with home schooling’. But it doesn’t seem right. I can’t go and see my own family, but I can go into another family’s house,” she says. The couple, who both work in finance, expect her to stay away from other people to protect their children from the virus. Reece, not her real name, asked if she could attend a funeral last week for a relative, who passed away from coronavirus. “I explained that everyone would be keeping their distance and I would be going in my own car,” she recalls. “But I was told ‘no’ – so I missed the funeral. I couldn’t pay my respects. It was really upsetting and it made me quite angry.” The couple have made little effort to protect her, however. They have not provided masks or gloves or introduced extra cleaning routines. “They are very privileged. Their children go to private school. They treat me like a servant even though I have a degree. One of the kids actually called me a ‘servant’,” she explains. The parents also brought back their gardener and cleaner last week and spend their days on Zoom business calls. Reece feels she is being put at risk for their convenience. “If I could afford not to work, then I would have handed my notice in. But I can’t afford not to have an income at the moment.” The fast food worker Mark Jones tried not to think about going back to serving at a KFC in Sheffield. But, walking to work on Friday, his sense of dread grew with every step. “The closer I got to work the more anxious I was getting,” he says. The day built to a frenzy, with orders coming in constantly and riders from Deliveroo, Uber Eats and Just Eat queuing at the doors. “At dinner time it just kicked off – it was then pretty solid until 10pm. After we closed, we still had 10 orders we were packing and waiting for riders to turn up,” he says. Jones, not his real name, did not feel safe returning, especially as Sheffield has one of the highest infection rates in the country. “You are so much more exposed to people at work,” he says. “We are being put at risk and in our industry, it is an unnecessary risk. It is hard to justify us being sent back to work. We are not an essential service.” The nine staff on duty were provided with mask and gloves, but it was impossible to keep away from each other as the orders piled up. “The floor is taped but there isn’t a great deal of room. Certain parts of the shop are quite narrow,” he says. “Once it got busy, we needed at least two people packing the orders. We were right next to each other and moving around each other. It made me uneasy and nervous.” A KFC spokesman says: “To help teams maintain social distancing, we’ve introduced designated zones in our kitchens that adhere to government advice, and we’re serving a limited menu so we can operate with a smaller kitchen team.” Jones, who is in his late 20s, fears he could contract the virus at work: “There are young people who have got undiagnosed health conditions. I’m also worried I could be spreading it unknowingly.” The government’s approach seems reckless, Jones says, adding: “There are lots of people who can’t work from home. If they all return, we run the risk of the virus getting worse again.” |