Has the Covid pandemic given us all a pass to express how we really feel, even to those we don't even know well? Photo / Getty Images, File
Has the Covid pandemic given us all a pass to express how we really feel, even to those we don't even know well? Photo / Getty Images, File
OPINION:
You might think that, after 30 years as a restaurateur, I'd be jaded, blase, tired. But I'm not.
One of the things that keeps me passionate about my job is the conversations I have with our guests and the privilege I have of sharing special moments with them. Andnot just celebratory moments.
I gain a window into their lives and a broader cultural context of our city and the world beyond.
Over the past 18 months I have noticed changes in the conversations I have with customers. There is a newly found frankness, openness and honesty, and I love it.
What used to be throwaway, rhetorical questions such as "how are you?" now start discussions on hardship in the family, challenges in business, vaccine hesitancy, political policy, and even the philosophy of social contracts.
The conversations, stripped of adornment, are of real value. By exposing their uncertainty and vulnerability, people become more authentic.
A regular patron, who has become a dear friend, recently confided in me that he has just come through rehab. He is an incredibly hardworking and successful man but the stress of health problems and Covid had put him into a dark place.
Pre-Covid, he wouldn't have been nearly as forthcoming about his mental health challenges but now he is straight-up and honest. And it wasn't because he didn't have anyone else to turn. It was because now he feels he can. Covid changes perceptions.
People know that everyone is doing it hard and they have become much less judgemental. Now it's okay not to be okay. What an amazing revelation for humanity.
During the first lockdown, back in March of last year, one of our customers showed up to the front door of Cafe Hanoi as we were distributing food to our team.
He thrust a wad of cash into my hand and said: "This is for your staff. We love what you do. It is going to be tough." He then apologised that it was $50 short of what he'd intended as he'd given this to a homeless person he'd encountered on the way down.
The previous Krish would have never accepted his money but I could see where the offer came from. I cried in front of my team when I got back into the restaurant.
For me, the shift was profound, and the realisation was immediate; our lives were never going to be the same.
Krishna Botica. Photo / Marie Jeong, File
Honesty and sincerity that was previously reserved for close friends and family members is not only found at restaurant dining tables. It's on the streets and at the supermarket. In parks and on beaches.
I find myself buoyed by this newfound conversational freedom.
I've noticed phases in the cultural shift within our community. After the first lockdown, there was a cautious re-entry. After the second lockdown there was a sense of patriotism and pride and the carnival-like atmosphere of a community that had just dodged a bullet.
After this lockdown, who knows? We're tired. We're hurting. And we can't see the end.
I suspect it is going to continue to be very hard for many in Auckland and across the country. Covid will impact lives and livelihoods in an uneven and, what may seem to be, in unfair ways.
A virus that doesn't discriminate and a system that is struggling to accommodate both seems to pick victims with astonishing precision. Yet amidst this uncertainty and hardship I hope that our usual Kiwi reticence may give way to a willingness to share our insecurities, challenges, and fears.
I think that we, as a community, will be better for it.
But beware. Next time you run into someone you know and ask them, "how are you?" be ready for an honest reply.
• Krishna Botica is director of Comensa, the group of eateries Cafe Hanoi, Xuxu Dumpling Bar, Saan and Ghost Street.
