It’s Writer Blocks Day. Here’s my roll: Essay, Lessons, Angry, Stranger.

Forgive me if I’ve told this story before.

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Remember the days of COVID when businesses shut down and then slowly reopened with new rules and regulations. Masks. Social distancing. Hand sanitizer. Who could have imagined it all?

Cooperation was palpable in those early days. We looked for ways to make it all work. Hand-sewn masks were made and distributed because manufactured masks weren’t available. Restaurants developed take-out menus. Zoom changed its meaning; it became a way to meet and connect, rather than something a car did on the highway.

When the sports facility where I worked reopened, we required everyone to wear masks. In the pool, where masking wasn’t possible, we implemented social distancing rules. Every other lane was left vacant and swimmers had to sign up to reserve their lane.

Over time, the restrictions were slowly lifted. The mask rule remained, however, long after other businesses in town had removed it.

One morning, A.M. (Angry Man) came in the front door. “WHAT THE #@*!$# DO I HAVE TO WEAR THIS FOR?” he yelled across the foyer to me.

I started to answer, but he continued cursing and yelling. “I DON’T HAVE TO WEAR IT ANYMORE. THE STATE LIFTED THAT REGULATION.”

I wanted to say that I understand. I wanted to tell him that I’m sorry; I don’t make the rules. I wanted to remind him that we are privately owned and run; we have to wait for The Foundation to lift the rule.

But he was yelling and other members were coming in, wearing masks, checking in at the front desk.

As one woman scanned her membership card, she said to me, “This is how Hitler got started, you know,” and she pointed at her mask.

A.M. was still yelling, F-ing this and F-ing that. I swear, the Hitler woman was smirking at me behind her mask. Other people were staring — at me, at A.M., at the mask sign on the front desk. I turned and walked away.

I walked into the back office where my supervisor worked. She wasn’t there. I walked down the long hallway to the Director’s office and knocked on the door. I interrupted a meeting.

“I don’t get paid enough to be compared to Hitler,” I said, and I told her the whole story.

When I finished talking, I saw A.M. coming down that long hallway. He reached me and went down on his knees.

“I’m so sorry,” he said. “Please forgive me. I’m so sorry for the way I spoke to you.”

“Of course, I forgive you,” I said. “Thank you for apologizing.”

We had a brief conversation and I went back to work. I think he stayed to talk with the Director.

Just the other day he was in my office.

“You know I have opinions,” he said.

I smiled. “Yes, you do, but this is a nicer way to handle them.”

He shared with me a concern/complaint/suggestion. I listened and thanked him.

That first angry interaction did not define our relationship and he is no longer a stranger. I think there’s a lesson or two in there somewhere.