Tier Me

“Lockdown? It’s all up here, mate” Jacques says, tapping the top of his head.

The cafés are silent. The bars are dead. The streets are empty.

After a year of isolation in his Manchester flat, our handsome hero has snapped. Unwilling to eat another slice of 2020, Jacques decides that it’s time to carry on with life as normal, even if no one else will.

7:30am

Full of beans, Jacques begins the first day of his old life.

He starts the day by visiting his favourite local coffee merchant, thirsting for a morning boost to kickstart the day .

With the café closed, Jacques must use his own resources to mimic the atmosphere he longs for.

Finding a seat outside, he slowly pours a lukewarm cafetière of coffee into his mug. His mind’s-eye concentrates on piecing together flashbacks from previous times he’s visited.

The smell of £4.80 sourdough toast, the hissing and gurgling of foaming oat milk, the sounds of old friends, lovers and I-don’t-know-what-we-ares chatting over mugs of chai and hot frappelattes. It all seems so close. It all seems so real.

A bitter brew. Watching the world go by as a haze of anxiety fogs his brain.

With a busy work day ahead, Jacques takes his coffee to go and begins to prepare himself for his first day back at the office.

So low from furlough, our stunning protagonist begins to worry about how to navigate social interactions. What did he used to say to people? How did he used to act?

8:45am

As empty as his stomach, Jacques favourite breakfast spot remains closed.

Before facing the world, he decides to start the day with a light breakfast at his favourite burger joint.

Despite his resilience to continue life as normal, it seems as if the rest of the world isn’t playing ball.

After several hours of knocking on the window, Jacques realises “They must be busy” and reluctantly heads into the office.

10:30am

Keyboard worrier, Jacques tries to adapt back to life in the concrete jungle.

With his work-life balance having been thrown into turmoil, the need to be productive and mingle with others is stronger than ever. Idle chit chat, small-talk over the water-cooler and misplaced communal anger over gender-neutral toilets used to consume a large part of his 9–5.

Without this healthy daily structure, what’s left to fill the time?

“When you take the foundations from a house, the roof cannot stay sturdy” Old Builder Proverb

11:20am

Drowning his sorrows — Jacque sips from his flask and dreams of the daily grind.

With the office doors closed, Jacques takes a well earned break in his favourite spot.

It’s not only the team that he misses, but the stability they provided him.

Sure they got on his nerves.

Sure he moaned about each one of them behind their backs.

Sure he occasionally filed formal, career-destroying complaints about Dominic when he f***d up his lunch order.

But all of this seems so insignificant now.

In the open plains of his abandoned workplace, Jacques tries to envision an email he could be drafting. A task he could be doing. A purpose he could have.

3:00pm

Our lone ranger clocks out for the day as the winter sun retreats.

Having very little to show for himself, but having put the hours in, Jacques feels like he’s spent an honest day at the office.

A cold wind whistles between the empty glass buildings as the cruel mistress of dusk begins to cloak the sky with her cape of twilight.

Standing alone in the darkness, a somber feeling of isolation begins to creep up on him. Jacques mind starts to become clear.

He is alone, this is all a farce, a tactic to break away from the agonising reality of-

“Last one out gets the first round in!” Jacques quickly yells into the wind, jogging away from the office.

5:00pm

Easy… easy… Jacques perfects his three-point pint holding technique as he softly walks towards the table

“It’s always happy hour when you’re the bar!” — Jacques’ Dad’s favourite phrase, often used as a fair warning to signal the start of a turbulent evening ahead.

With all the bars and clubs boarded up and not a foam party in sight, there is very little release for the night-owls of the city to let off some steamy hoots.

Unable to stay within the four walls of his brain, Jacques convinces himself to have a fun night out with his mates, even if they are only there in spirit.

The Eagle has almost landed as Bambi takes the final steps to the riverbank.

Having ‘snapped’ in the truest of senses, Jacques sports an ill fitting Hawaiian shirt in order to get in the party mood.

With the temperature averaging around -1c, there really is no stopping this party animal from getting to the watering hole.

You had the Snakebite, right?

Managing to find the only pub in Manchester that’s still left its tables and chairs outside (aww people are so trusting here it’s amazing) Jacques settles in to a quiet evening out.

All through the night; laughs, drinks, deep conversation and political ideas are bounced around like a ping pong ball.

Exactly! But I don’t know why she can’t see it too.

Jacques is on top form, entertaining his friends whilst getting the drinks in. Sure he’s heard their jokes before, but that doesn’t stop him from looking forward to the punchlines.

I know I’ve tried vaping too but I like to have something to do with my hands, y’know?

As the evening begins to wind down, Jacques is strongly feeling the winning effects of good company and alcohol. Everything is great, he thinks, it’s all going so well. It’s almost as if everything was back to normal.

Normal.

That word.

Never has a word been more tainted with sobering nostalgia.

I guess I’ll call an Uber

Everything is not O.K. His friends aren’t talking anymore and they’ve barely touched their bevvies.

Jacques tries to manoeuvre himself off the table and can feel the unsteadiness of the ground underneath him.

Exhausted intoxicated, and somehow having spent £32 on drinks, it’s time to head home.

Well, almost.

11:00pm

Can I have some more garlic mayo?

Having eaten his own bodyweight in unidentifiable meat (otter?) Jacques sits and reflects on the days achievements.

He had set out to prove to himself that he wouldn’t let a little thing like pandemic get in the way of living his life as if nothing had happened.

But it had happened. It was happening.

No amount of work or kebabs could ward off the negative thoughts. The reality of this year was beginning to sink in deeper than his shoes in that pool of urine underneath them (genuinely didn’t realise till I got home).

But what he had learned, is that despite the city being dead, he could still feel alive. In the silence of his life there was still some noise, even if it was faint, he knew it would one day come back louder than ever.

This cathartic thought carried him all the way home and into bed. As his head touched the memory-foam pillow, the chaos and carousel of madness begun to quiet down. For the first time in a long, long while, he managed to get some rest.

Tomorrow was a new day, and a step towards the old ones.

by James Dann

Photos by Livia Lazar — www.livialazar.com

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