Demo-Dopes too stupid and/or lazy to buy a pen

Saturday was a typical day for the JG’s editorials.  Proving the point that there are never enough things to be paranoid about, in his May 16^th letter “Signing our lives away?  Let’s hope not”, fear monger and pandemic panic pusher - Tim Harmon - uses a whopping 811 words to warn us that we all may die if we use the same ”communal pen.”

How about exercising a bit of personal responsibility.  I can solve Harmon’s problem in four words – buy your own pen.   Here’s a three word solution – wash your hands.

As far as “signing your life away” with the “communal pen,” consider that if you are healthy and under the age of 65, you probably have a better chance being struck by lightning while being mauled by a polar bear than catching the Chinese Virus from a pen and then dying from it.  Paranoid pandemic panic pusher Harmon doesn’t bother to let readers in on that little tidbit of information.

I used to think that liberals throwing their minority constituents under the bus for being too stupid and/or lazy to get an ID for voting was just a cover for another of their voter fraud programs.  Now it appears that they have a whole other group of people too stupid and/or lazy to buy a ball point pen or wash their hands after using a communal pen people. I guess we may have to accept that the Democrat Party is largely made up of stupid, lazy  constituents

Carrying your own pen or using your own hand sanitizer is just too great a burden and doesn’t take into account the following:  1)  Those solutions are racist, because poor people of color cannot afford ball point pens and hand sanitizer.  2)  Using ball point pens and hand sanitizer are “white privilege” because of all the “pen and hand sanitizer” deserts out there. 3)  Only the rich can afford a personal pen and hand sanitizer.

Saturday, May 16, 2020 1:00 am

Journal entry

Signing our lives away? Let's hope not

TIM HARMON | The Journal Gazette

It is time to talk about The Communal Pen.

We've come a long way in learning how to minimize exposure to coronaviruses. Just three months ago, people were shaking hands and pushing elevator buttons without a second thought.

Because I write a lot about health issues, I had a few days' head start on concepts such as social distancing, and during the first days of the shutdown, I dreaded my interactions with people who hadn't quite caught onto the simple techniques that minimize spreading the virus to others.

Of course, some people are blissfully going through life as they used to, seemingly unaware they are in the midst of a pandemic. Many others, though, have adjusted to the concept that we owe it to ourselves and those around us to do everything we reasonably can to avoid spreading infection.

I am pleasantly surprised to see how seriously workers in grocery stores, package delivery, pharmacies and, especially, routine health care, have taken that responsibility.

They are wearing masks and making every effort to minimize contact. Evidence suggests their efforts have saved lives. They've also contributed to making customers and patients feel safer.

But one thing hasn't seemed to change. The Communal Pen – the customary, weather-beaten ballpoint some businesses and organizations still offer customers for all manner of transactions.

It seems to me the very definition of counterintuitive. Too often, cautious gloved and masked workers go through elaborate rituals to spare contact with you – but before they can give you your food, or your medicine, or even, sometimes, your medical test, they direct you to ... The Communal Pen and ask you to sign something.

This can happen whether you've prepaid or not. It can happen whether you've taken advantage of drive-up or cautiously ventured into the store. One of my favorite carryout spots started requiring a signature with The Communal Pen on prepaid orders a couple weeks ago, even though it had rarely done so before. Why? I asked. “To show that you really got your food,” a worker explained. Really? If it came down to a court case or whatever, wouldn't they have a video of my car going through the drive-up? And why wasn't this a problem before a deadly pandemic came along?

It happened, too, this week at a highly respected local medical facility I was visiting for a routine test.

Masked worker meets me at the door, six feet away. Checks me in. Good. My name is on the list, and she confirms what the test is for and which doctor ordered it. Good and good.

Just one more thing, she says. You have to sign the check-in list at the desk. Though I have already checked in and although there are only two other patients in the waiting room.

And there, beside the check-in sheet, is The Communal Pen. Perhaps, I think, they have sanitized it. The check-in woman is busy with another patient – no way to ask her.

And besides, I have a wrinkled face with white beard hair sticking out from under my mask. I am not just in the high-risk group – I am in the high-risk-for-coming-across-as-a-crotchety-old-man group.

Then I notice there is the customary jar full of identical Communal Pens sitting beside it. I reach in and try to choose a clean one. Maybe I lucked out.

During an interview on other health matters this week, I mentioned my new obsession to Allen County Health Commissioner Dr. Deborah McMahan. She said she hadn't been offered any unsanitary pens during the pandemic. But she agreed places that neglect pen sanitation are taking a risk.

“They should wipe those things down all the time – not just during COVID, but all the time,” she said. “I can't imagine how much disease is spread with those pens, when you sign your name on the charge-card thing and then rub your eyes.”

Let me be clear. This is nothing against all these workers who are trying so hard to keep their customers, patients and colleagues safe.

No, behind each of these Communal Pens is a manager, maybe sitting safely in a home office somewhere, neglecting to make a simple change in a long-held policy.

It seems to me those managers need to waive needless signature requirements. For signatures that still must be required – the law, for instance, mandates a signature to receive some kinds of medicine – those managers could give workers training in how to carry that out safely by properly sanitizing pens, using disposable covers, or whatever other solutions might be available.

And they could direct employees to clearly state what precautions have been taken when they ask customers to use those pens.

It's not a big thing, compared to all the things those companies and organizations are doing right in this troubling time. But just for the next few months, why not humor a crotchety old man?

Tim Harmon is an editorial writer for The Journal Gazette.