As Lockdown Drags On, Some Seek Larger Outlet for Grumpiness

HOLYOKE, Mass.  At 64 years-old, insurance adjuster Claude Takac has been told by Modern Moosehead Property & Casualty to take it easy and not come back to work until they’ve given the “all-clear” signal.  “Claude is one of the giants of our company, but at his age he’s very much at risk,” says COO Mike Bruzeski, referring to the higher mortality rate among older coronavirus victims.  “You’d hate to be the boss who called a worker back just to have him croak when he pulls into the parking lot, that would tie up a space for the better part of a day while you wait for a tow truck to arrive.”

“I wish I could go outside and yell at some kids.”

And so Claude sits looking out the window of his home, a man of action obviously frustrated by his enforced idleness.  Does he miss the warmth of human contact that his job formerly provided him with, this reporter asks?

“You betcha,” says the former Army drill sergeant.  “On an ordinary day I’d be turning somebody down flat right about now,” he says, then launches into the patter that has made him a three-time Western Massachusetts Claims Adjuster of the Year.  “Ma’am,” he says, adopting a folksy but firm tone of voice, “a tree falling on your house is an act of God.  Like the poem says, ‘Only God can make a tree.’”

“I’m busting out of this joint!”

Mental health experts say the lack of contact with other human beings is taking its toll on service industry employees who thrive on abusing customers and others they interact with.  “Nobody’s flying these days,” says Dr. Oren Daily, Jr. of the MetroWest Psychological Partners, “so the snotty gate attendant who used to get a warm feeling between her thighs when she told people she hadn’t called Group B yet is just stewing in her own juice right now.”

“There will be a slight delay in boarding Group B while I go get an iced latte.”

Under traditional theories, emotions that are not released in a constructive, societally-approved manner turn back in on a person’s psyche, resulting in anger, depression, sexual dysfunction, and yellow waxy-buildup on kitchen floors.  “I’m not saying we’ll see a zombie apocalypse of frustrated managers and ‘gatekeepers’ to essential services when America returns to work,” says Daily, “but people need an outlet for the anger besides banging on picture windows for kids to get off their lawn.”

For those such as Takac whose age puts them at a higher risk of contracting the virus and dying a painful, premature death, there are obvious trade-offs but none that are non-starters.  “If I spend the last breath of my life telling someone there’s no way in hell we’re paying a claim,” he says with pursed lips and a lump in his throat, “it will all have been worth it.”