It was my second visit to the Hoxsie branch of Citizens Bank since the governor tightened restrictions on gatherings reducing the number to five and closing state parks. With the exception of the vehicles belonging to employees, which were parked at the back end of the lot, two cars were pulled up in front of the door. Nobody was waiting outside, as there had been a couple of weeks earlier and the vestibule appeared empty.

On my earlier visit, I donned a mask and thought to myself, would I ever have imagined entering a bank wearing a mask? I went ahead anyway, rationalizing that I was displaying my respect for others and let them be damned if they thought I was carrying things to extremes. When I entered the branch, I found nobody wearing a mask. Ultimately, I lowered my mask and keeping my distance spoke with a representative.

This time it appeared no one was using the ATM just inside the door, so I left the mask in the car.

I was in for an awakening.

Indeed, someone was at the ATM. I stepped back to give them as much room as possible and then to my surprise realized I was standing next to a woman, the hood of her coat pulled down over her forehead, collar up around her neck and white cloth mask across her mouth and nose. Her eyes flashed at me and she motioned for me to back away. She didn’t need to say anything.

Suddenly I felt naked and contaminated. I quickly stepped out of the vestibule and into the fresh air outside. In a moment the woman entered the lobby and the man at the ATM left. I had the ATM to myself.

But the experience offered a perspective on another encounter earlier in the week when I stopped at Salk’s Department Store. The place was humming. The front door was propped open, quite obviously so people wouldn’t have to use the handle. I quickly found what I wanted and headed for checkout. A clear shield had been erected at the counter since I had last been in, and the woman at the register wore gloves and a mask. I was glad to have my mask on. I was doing my bit.

There was one customer waiting in front of me. He wasn’t wearing a mask and was defiant when the clerk asked him to step back to the taped line – the 6 feet – so as not to crowd the customer she was assisting. He let his opinion be known. What good would all these regulations do? Who had the authority to tell him where to stand? What was wrong with people, didn’t they realize they were being scared into submission?

The clerk kept her cool and so did the customer she was assisting. I didn’t say anything, either, which seemed to feed the man’s annoyance. He opened his wallet, pulled out some bills and thrust them under the shield and without saying anything, grabbed his change and left.

The episode left uneasiness. The rest of us in line didn’t say anything. The clerk told me they didn’t have the staff at the moment to fill my propane tank, giving me a look with her eyes that said, “Do you believe what just happened?”

Whether wearing a mask or not, this pandemic has isolated us more than we realize. It reaches beyond getting together with family – for religious services, for sporting and entertainment events, for waiting in line at a popular restaurant where you don’t know anyone but enjoy the chatter of conversation and a staff there to make it an enjoyable experience.

We should wear masks, but we can’t let the primeval instinct of survival and this virus rob us of respect and compassion for one another.