I recently applied to become a volunteer contact tracer as part of my personal effort to keep the COVID-19 bug at bay. The federal government's application process bordered on the ridiculous. The first twenty questions, designed obviously to weed out the riffraff, asked applicants if they were: epidemiologists, social scientists, social workers, medical students, pharmacists, and so on and so on.
I didn't qualify in any category.
Instead of making me feel empowered, and useful, filling out this questionnaire made me feel bad about myself. After checking no, no, no for thirty minutes, there was a final question which was
basically, ok riffraff, what makes you think you would qualify as a good contact tracer?
"I have more than 40 years experience as a journalist," I wrote. "I can find anybody."
There is no better training to be a contact tracer than being a newspaper reporter or a television chase producer. The job is basically finding people who don't want to be found. Like the politician who is on the take. Or the suspect out on bail.
We're also trained to ask people difficult questions. Can I have a photo of your dead child? Was it your gun? Premier Ford, have you even read the briefing?
I once had to wake up the Archbishop of Ottawa to tell him that the Pope had died, the second pope, the one who was chosen to replace the original pope, who had died the month before.
"I'm sorry," the weary priest told me after my third call at 3 a.m. "I can only wake up the Archbishop in case of emergency."
"Well," I sniffed. "If the Pope dying isn't an emergency for the Archbishop, I don't know what is."
Ten minutes later, I had the Archbishop on the phone.
People seem to think that being a contact tracer would be difficult. It's not like you're calling to tell a guy he has the clap. There might be the occasional awkward phone call taken by a wife who wasn't at the pool party with her husband. Perhaps the person being called to cough up his contacts might be reluctant to do so, fearing blow back from his colleagues.
("Dude, you didn't actually use the public bathroom," or "Ugh, you kissed me with that mouth!")
But otherwise, it's just a virus. People want to know if they've been infected.
As a mother of three, I have a bullshit detector implanted in my skull. I can tell if anyone is lying.
Marissa, I found a shiv in the dresser. Who gave that to you?
Nick, I found ecstasy in the laundry. Are you on drugs again?
Stef, how much did you have to drink. I can smell it on you. Here's the pail. Use it.
Ask anybody, Rose Simpson can talk to anybody. I've had conversations with prime ministers, premiers, Supreme Court judges, a king, rock stars, cops, drug dealers, strippers, drunks, and other ne'er to wells. I roll in many circles.
Beside, I love to be the first person to know something, and I love to tell people stuff they don't know.
It's how I'm built.
I also worked in psychiatry for a time, so there's not much I don't know about people who live in other dimensions -- including psychiatrists themselves.
Today, I heard that 53,000 people had applied to be volunteer contact tracers. That was months ago, and everybody, including all these lofty medical professionals, are all still waiting by the phone. So I don't feel left out.
But I am disturbed that this effort is proceeding at a snail's pace during a pandemic.
Who does the government think it is, the WHO?
It's a pandemic, yo! Let's hurry up and wait.
Don't call us, we'll call you.
Meanwhile, the virus continues to spread.
I didn't qualify in any category.
Instead of making me feel empowered, and useful, filling out this questionnaire made me feel bad about myself. After checking no, no, no for thirty minutes, there was a final question which was
basically, ok riffraff, what makes you think you would qualify as a good contact tracer?
"I have more than 40 years experience as a journalist," I wrote. "I can find anybody."
There is no better training to be a contact tracer than being a newspaper reporter or a television chase producer. The job is basically finding people who don't want to be found. Like the politician who is on the take. Or the suspect out on bail.
We're also trained to ask people difficult questions. Can I have a photo of your dead child? Was it your gun? Premier Ford, have you even read the briefing?
I once had to wake up the Archbishop of Ottawa to tell him that the Pope had died, the second pope, the one who was chosen to replace the original pope, who had died the month before.
"I'm sorry," the weary priest told me after my third call at 3 a.m. "I can only wake up the Archbishop in case of emergency."
"Well," I sniffed. "If the Pope dying isn't an emergency for the Archbishop, I don't know what is."
Ten minutes later, I had the Archbishop on the phone.
People seem to think that being a contact tracer would be difficult. It's not like you're calling to tell a guy he has the clap. There might be the occasional awkward phone call taken by a wife who wasn't at the pool party with her husband. Perhaps the person being called to cough up his contacts might be reluctant to do so, fearing blow back from his colleagues.
("Dude, you didn't actually use the public bathroom," or "Ugh, you kissed me with that mouth!")
But otherwise, it's just a virus. People want to know if they've been infected.
As a mother of three, I have a bullshit detector implanted in my skull. I can tell if anyone is lying.
Marissa, I found a shiv in the dresser. Who gave that to you?
Nick, I found ecstasy in the laundry. Are you on drugs again?
Stef, how much did you have to drink. I can smell it on you. Here's the pail. Use it.
Ask anybody, Rose Simpson can talk to anybody. I've had conversations with prime ministers, premiers, Supreme Court judges, a king, rock stars, cops, drug dealers, strippers, drunks, and other ne'er to wells. I roll in many circles.
Beside, I love to be the first person to know something, and I love to tell people stuff they don't know.
It's how I'm built.
I also worked in psychiatry for a time, so there's not much I don't know about people who live in other dimensions -- including psychiatrists themselves.
Today, I heard that 53,000 people had applied to be volunteer contact tracers. That was months ago, and everybody, including all these lofty medical professionals, are all still waiting by the phone. So I don't feel left out.
But I am disturbed that this effort is proceeding at a snail's pace during a pandemic.
Who does the government think it is, the WHO?
It's a pandemic, yo! Let's hurry up and wait.
Don't call us, we'll call you.
Meanwhile, the virus continues to spread.
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