Mark Bell, RIP: A Remembrance

 I lost my good friend Mark Bell to Covid three weeks ago. On the day Georgia called to tell me that, shortly before noon on the Tuesday, I sat in front of my computer staring at the same page of the book I was reading for three hours. I cannot tell you the page number, not even the book title. It was a white page with black text. I think. A grief counsellor would tell me I was in the first stage: Shock and denial. But that counsellor would be wrong. I believed Georgia, having let loose with a sorrowful "Noooooooooooo!!" even before she told me. She told me nicely. And I believed her and shortly thereafter hung up the phone. 

Mark Bell wouldn't be checking up on how things were going with me ever again. I rarely asked for anything, telling him "I didn't want to abuse the privilege." Didn't stop him from asking next time we talked. And sometimes we talked once every couple of weeks. Sometimes months passed by. But to me, Mark was one of my best friends (from a fairly small pool). On the other hand, he would have described me to other people as one of his friends. Best friend? No. Not at all. You see, Mark Bell was friends with just about everybody he came into contact. He was a good man.

He wasn't perfect, nobody is. But he wanted to be the best he could be within that understanding. He formed a partnership with Andrew Stanley to sell comic books and that company eventually morphed into The Comic Warehouse, where you could by comics, graphic novels, action figures, cards, games and just about anything else a kid of any age could possibly want. Georgia McDonald entered the picture later, splitting time in Brampton at Mark's and her other home in Kingston, Jamaica. Hurricane Georgia I called her because she is a force of nature, who liked cruises and sitting on the couch with Mark on Friday nights binge-watching something or other with a never-empty bowl of popcorn at hand. 

The last time I talked to Mark was about three weeks before his passing. Georgia and he were on a break from the night's marathon of something or other, one headed to make more popcorn, the other for a bathroom break. Mark got back first and picked up the phone and dialed my number. It wasn't our first conversation this year, but being only the second wasn't good news. He and I had been under the weather this year. And at our age, under the weather is a euphemism for being pretty sick. I normally would have played a game of 'Can You Top This' with him, but something in his voice troubled me. A lot.

First, he described what had happened to me back in May to a 'T' as he described his symptoms and weight loss. For me, being weak isn't anything new. Mark, the brawn of the store in may ways, was describing his legs turning to jelly in the aftermath and seemed astonished such a thing could happen. I knew just how he felt. But instead, I let him give me the laundry list of 2021 malaise. I didn't want to add my complaints to his long list of things rotten from this year. Despite still not feeling his best, he then did as he always did. He asked me whether there was anything he could do for me. I demurred. Usual reason, and I REALLY meant it this time. 

"Hey, we've been buddies for what, 30 years now? If you need something, just say the word. Talk to ya later, buddy." And with that little giggle-cum-laugh, he hung up the phone. I didn't even correct him. It was closer to 35 years. It just felt wrong. 

I have been customer, provider, customer, employee, customer, reluctant provider, and friend through tout. I think I have the sequence correct. Being a comic buyer, with a 200 buck a month habit when comics were largely less than a buck apiece, made me a fairly big customer of the store. I bought graphic novels, both for myself and for gifts. Each Christmas I give the O'Neill family a game, usually after advice from Mark and Andrew. In many ways, the stores Andrew and Mark operated were my idea of the ultimate playground. I wish there had been a golden ticket to let me sit in a back corner and just read. And read. And read. There was even a little café at the front of The Warehouse for any needed sustenance. But no Willie Wonka stepped forward to give me the ability to completely shut the real world out. 

Having jumped ship from the Brampton Guardian, I started writing for the Brampton Daily Times. They took my Bridge column and my Comic Book column and were due to start with my Trivia column when the paper folded without warning. Mark and Andrew paid for the comic book column. 

Later, when I was between jobs (again), having quit the CKMW-790AM radio gig, and not yet headed to Memphis to take over the Media Liaison job with the American Contract Bridge League, I needed somewhere to go and get out of the house. A new comic shop was opened on the other side of Brampton, not far from the old Dixie Cup factory. Mark handed me the keys to be the counter guy there. IF memory serves, that was something like six months of me calling him Boss. 

When the ACBL gig went south, I was okay with it because I now had a social life. At least I did until an unexpected death knocked me for a loop, the first time that had happened to me. I didn't get over Laura's death for three months. By that time, I was doing computer consulting by being one page ahead of the others in the manual. And I was programming, systems software. And that led me to being a service provider for Mark once again. He wanted me to do a Point of Sale program for his operation. He disliked the software he was using and couldn't get any modifications made. For a solid six months, I found reasons not to do the software.

But I eventually ran out of excuses and said yes. The result was software that was used at multiple stores connected to the Warehouse and was modified as needed. For most of the first part of this millennium. Around 2017, the business that Andrew and Mark had built up and weathered through rotten weather, crooks and worse financial times, was changing. I have the logo I created for Mark17, the replacement I started for cwRegister. And still haven't finished. 

And now, I am not sure it will be. That discussion is still to be had with Andrew. I'm not even sure the Warehouse survives Mark's passing. I don't want to talk about it with anybody because not talking about it means Schrödinger's cat is still alive in the box. I guess that covers pain and guilt. I've put off until tomorrow, until there are no tomorrows left on the calendar. Not something to be proud of. 

At some point, I told Mark my worst problem, something I've never told anybody else. Not Patrick, not Marilyn, not James nor any member of my family. To the best of my knowledge, Mark never broke the confidence I had sworn him to. But he did come back three days later with a solution, albeit not one I wanted to act upon. Still, the knowledge that there was an approach made sleeping that night and most nights since then a lot easier. That was Mark. Don't judge, figure out a fix. 

When I made out my will earlier this year, Mark, Andrew and Georgia were part of it. I expected my brother Rick to get them to curate my collections of books, magazines and comics, as well as electronic media, and disseminate parts of the library to assorted other people in my will, and then the rest of the SF-oriented material would head for Kingston to Georgia's local library down there. I was thankful they all agreed to help in the event of my passing.

Never thinking for one second that any one of them would pre-decease me. 

If I'd been raised to curse in public forums, I would be swearing up a blue streak right now. I know a LOT of the words and I've used them in private. But I just can't turn a memorial to Mark into a place where I get my anger out. He doesn't deserve that. I do. But not Mark. 

So, I remain right where I was when I head the news. The only differences are that I have moved away from the computer, even got dressed. I have seem Mark's memorial service on the web (Thanks to Georgia's son). But I am still depressed and I'm not going to try and play 'Can You Top This.' 

Mark Bell was a good guy. He was my buddy. And I miss him and will continue to miss him, even if it's only at the other end of a phone call. Covid-19. A killer of good buddy phone calls, a murderer of the good guys. 

RIP Buddy. 

The Question Is: Who are the Gonzaga Bulldogs?

 Of course, in honour of the late great Alex Trebek, a fellow Canadian, the answer is: Who will win the 2021 NCAA Men's Basketball championship in Indianapolis the first week of April.

Now, as things go, this is about the least unlikely champion pick in the tournament that I have ever made. Which should worry you. It's been 45 years since the Little General, Bobby Knight, guided his Indiana Hoosiers to a perfect season. Five times since then, schools have stumbled after perfect regular seasons. This time, the sixth sense says bet the Zags.

Along with 60 per cent of the betting public in all likelihood. 

I haven't done a deep dive, looking for defensive teams with senior point guards, a pair of good three point shooters (if not more), good defense, GREAT rebounding and having momentum. THAT's the definition of an upset school. So, a LOT of my upset picks are gut shots. And for a change, I'm entering in my true picks in the Gontram Architecture pool that welcomes this Canuck into the free pool every year. And I've never come close to winning a free meal at the local diner of choice. Not once. So, I'm not filling in a lot of pools this year AND I'm starting with Eddie Gontram's pool first. With my best guess. 

First Four games starting tomorrow? The one that everybody wants to see is Tom Izzo and Michigan State against UCLA (and Mick Cronin, a guy I like quite a lot). But everybody knows I think Izzo is one of the best coaches in the college ranks, ever. Sooooo, the Spartans to party. And I like the game to be a great tourney lid-lifter. Drake over Wichita State despite me being a Shocker supporter generally. Mount St. Mary's over Texas Southern is another wish pick, mostly because I think MSM can give Michigan a tussle in what is usually a 1-16 bore, Lastly, I've got Norfolk St. beating Appalachian St on a pure coin toss. 

So, that's my field. And I've got a chalk board to go, with a total of 14 upsets, eight of which go in the first round Friday and Saturday. I'm upset-light in the West compared to some of the upset darlings of the big name prognosticators. Just UC Santa Barbara, who will fulfill everybody's hopes by downing Creighton. As far as Ohio, VCU and Mizzou? Nope. But in the SECOND round, and even-numbered round that I traditionally mark chalk and be done with it, I have UCSB taking out Virginia AND USC bouncing Kansas. Just not that convinced the COVID-belaboured Jayhawks, one of my usual picks, are going to be ready for the USC size, due to lack of practice time.  But other than those upsets, Gonzaga will have an issue working up a sweat getting to the Final Four.

My most upsetting region is the East. I like St. Bonaventure over LSU in an 8-9 match-up and Michigan State will go on a bit of a run by adding BYU to it's victim list. It'll end with BYU, 'cuz Texas is going to end the party in the second round. And then we come to Georgetown who are one of the reasons Louisville didn't make the field. The Hoyas stole berth 68 or even 67 from the Cardinals when they ran the list in the Big East tourney at Madison Square Gardens, the newest version of which, Patrick Ewing had some part in building. His defensive monsters will swarm Colorado in a defensive showdown and then add Florida State in round two to the run. And it won't end there. Yep, Georgetown will take down Juwan Howard's Michigan top seeds in the region before meeting it's match in Alabama. The Crimson Tide will have had some practice with defence first basketball when dispatching Rick Pitino's Iona squad in the first round. Think it sticks in the Cardinal's craw that Louisville is out and Pitino is in?

The staid South will see Winthrop bounce the Wildcats of Villanova in the first round to give the tournament THREE #12 seeds advancing, and I like Utah State to do in Texas Tech. Why? I think western teams are generally under-seeded and this was a team that gave the Pacific sides competition all year long. And aside from Baylor, the top seed in this region, I just don't have Big 12 supporter-itis this year. Or ACC devotion either. So, go figure. Only OTHER upset in the region, I have Arkansas doing in Ohio State in a mini-upset before bowing out to Baylor in the regional final. 

Leaves me with the MidEast which starts with two upsets in the opening round and ends with Houston upsetting Illinois in the regional final. The first-rounders are the usual 8-9 game where I expect the rapidly improving Georgia Tech Rambling Wreck to take down the Loyola Chicago Ramblers (sorry Sister Jean, I truly respect anybody who can travel at age 101 to support her boys, but not this time) and I think Tennessee is reeling as the season finishes and the Oregon State Beavers will win the battle of the Orange. (San Diego St. will takedown Syracuse in another battle of the Orange, but that won't be an upset ... unless Buddy Boeheim, one of my favourite players in the event, goes truly off, which he IS able to do). The Beavers are the partners of the Hoyas in sidelining Louisville, stealing the auto bid in the Pac 12.

Final Four will end with Gonzaga taking down Baylor in the long-delayed showdown between the two best teams of not only this year, but of the last two years (in total).  I think it will be a comfortable win, but I just don't think there is a weal-point Baylor can expose in the Gonzaga game. Andrew Nembhard gets to hoist the cut-down twine and that's all right with me. 

Player-wise, enjoy Cade Cunningham, who can't improve his draft position, as he leads the Cowboys of Oklahoma State past Liberty (a must-watch first round game) and then Oregon State before Illinois finishes his college career. Evan Mobley and USC will make noise as I noted. Jay Suggs won't be the best Zag, maybe not in any of the team's games. But he's the third of my NBA top picks I think bears watching. 

I want to see Zach Edey with Purdue and the Oregon Duck Canucks, especially Chris Duarte. I have Purdue winning twice, Oregon once. Luka Garza isn't Canadian, but I have an appreciation of great college players who won't be great NBA players. He'll end his career with yet another loss to Gonzaga, but three wins leading up to the loss will gild his legacy. 

And those won't be the only players that are must see. The others? Well, a fortnight plus from now, you and I will both know. Enjoy.

Pascal Siakam and Al Brown, Together in My Mind

 The Toronto Raptors' Pascal Siakam is one of the most likable players in the NBA. He is a self-made multi-millionaire who has taken moderate talents (it appeared) as a late first-round draft choice out of New Mexico, worked diligently with high-level coaching with the Raptors organization and summers at UCLA in the off-season and has become an all-star. This from a guy who wasn't interested in basketball much growing up in Cameroon and only started a path towards NBA stardom a continent and an ocean away because he tagged along to a basketball camp with a friend as something to do during a hot summer weekend.

He's a goofy guy who is one of the few Raptors to star in local commercials (along with the make-good idol of the undrafted, Fred VanVleet) because he doesn't have to talk to make people feel good. He does talk though and his punchlines bring smiles and laughs. 

So, I do not come here to bury Siakam. Far from it. If I had a daughter, he's exactly the kind of guy I would hope she brings home for the 'talk' with her parents. But there IS a thing Siakam does that drives me to extraction. He has a propensity for jumping in the air looking for someone, ANYONE, to pass the ball to. A lot of those times, he passes behind himself, frequently to poor effect. Other times, he actually gets the pass off to a fellow Raptor and then CRASHES into a defender, standing there ready to take the charge. And those fouls/turnovers are doubly hurtful for the Toronto team. 

My old high school coach at the junior level was Gerry (T-Tough) Thompson, who had a long and distinguished career coaching Bramalea Secondary Bronco junior boys' teams. Good coach, one of three I would think of, when asked who were the best basketball coaches in town. But I watched him learn a real tough lesson one year in the region final against Applewood Heights. There was a game plan that day. Shooting guard Bob Hamilton was going to be the ball distributor, throwing a curve ball at the Axemen in their gym. Coach Thompson figured Hamilton, the leading scorer on that team, would do a good job distributing the ball. And he was wrong.

Just like Siakam, Hamilton drove into the paint as often as he could, planning to distribute the ball. But his way of doing it was to jump in the air, and when that happened, the well-coached Applewood Heights team just sloughed off him or stood their ground. A good shooter isn't necessarily a good passer and on that day, Hamilton looked like a flopping fish before fouling out late in a one-sided loss. Hamilton's play that night violated what I thought had been a cardinal Thompson rule. "Never leave your feet to make a pass without knowing where that pass is going."

It's one of the rules that became foundational to my understanding of the game as a rarely-used, undersized, and slow, back-up point guard. And later a sports reporter and an announcer for pro basketball in Toronto. You don't leave your feet to make a pass without good reason (and virtually guaranteed success). I had been provided with the proof and in my own play, the difference between jumping and not leaving my feet was only a few inches anyways. I was living proof of the stereotype, white men can't jump.

Which brings me to Al Brown, the principal at J.A. Turner Secondary and it's senior girls' basketball coach. Brown was the silver fox of the coaching set and created a mini-dynasty at the school on the other side of Brampton from Bramalea. It took me until after I was done being a sports reporter and he'd retired from the teaching of our young for me to add Brown to my pantheon of best school coaches I knew. He wasn't self-effacing, but at the same time he wasn't a big talking self-promoter. It was my understanding that he was an outstanding administrator and a better teacher. He had some ... let's call them interesting ... training routines that he mandated be run early and late in practices and in warm-ups before games. The germane one here was his jab-step, stop and jump for a short range shot. Not the raindrop extended layup popular today. He had his ladies come to a stop by jabbing hard and jumping backward and maintaining good proper shooting form for a ten-foot shot attempt. 

This was extraordinary successful as the Hamilton sisters, Janet Weaver and a host of other players scored consistently in the (semi) fast break, rarely charging and hitting a high percentage of their shots, no matter the size of the opponents. And it wasn't just the guards. Tracey Gerber, the lion-maned power forward was equally adept at the art. The key was arresting the forward momentum with a hard step, falling back and depending on form and two changes in angular momentum to actually create a fairly good up-and-down shooting posture. 

Brown coached technique as well as any of the coaches in the boy's game did during that era, the 70s to the early 90s. The game at that time was changing in town as the town became a city became a mega-city. The complexion changed and schools in town became more athletic. There were strong runs at several schools over the next 25 years, putting Brampton on the map as a source of NBA-calibre talent. 

But I don't think the coaching in town is any better than the last quarter century if the 20th century. In fact, I could argue in some ways that it isn't as good. Better athletes, more year-round roundball players. Yes. But better coached?? I think Al Brown would have a credible argument to the contrary.

Back to Siakam. He's a devout disciple of the DeMar DeRozan school of adding a skill each summer. I fervently hope the skill he adds this summer is the jab-step jump stop. It's more difficult for him, given his racing horse speed and there's always the worry his joints won't agree with his decision to bring himself to a sudden stop. But he can't keep taking charges, costing him a foul that might put his butt on the bench AND turnover the ball at the same time. It's a double-whammy. He's got to stop doing that. If it means curling out when there's more than one defender between him and the basket, so be it. Better to pull it back under control. 

Wish there were some tapes of J.A. Turner's old warmups. Sure, it's a bunch of under-sized white girls, but I'm sure Siakam would benefit from the viewing.

A Guy's Gotta Eat

 Truly, madly, deeply, I like to eat. To do that, I occasionally need to get a service to deliver me food. The ones that come the closest to delivering you your choice of foods for a sawbuck, and getting mostly what you ordered from them, is Sobey's Voilà and Longo's Grocery Gateway. I'm mad at the first for the most recent deliveryman's ability to spread my delivery all the way to the far end of the porch and for Grocery Gateway for their creative use of the phrase, pricing.

But here's what you can expect from neither company, is a surprise on the payment page under the heading TIP.

I LOATHE the idea for tipping, have long come around to the view that restaurants pay their workers a living wage and leave the customers to look at the prices in the menu and quickly tote up how much longer the kids will have to wait to go to college in order to order from the menu. In fact, I still think tipping can be added, since service above and beyond should be appreciated. By a single bill, not a percentage. 

So, why the Scrooge act?? Well, let's start with a lady I called Sunshine in the days when once a week (or sometimes twice), I'd end up in a local bar playing NTN, which stood for Network Trivia Network, or somesuch silly thing. I played in Brampton ON where the trivia competing was actually pretty tough. My team, the BUMMS (Brampton Union of Marvelous Mugford Sympathizers) and a team of teachers from one of my alma maters, Balmoral Public School, were regulars in the North American top ten. More them than us, but we had our moments. I was offered the chance to jump ship (from my OWN team, which would have simply been The Bums, but the network wouldn't allow that name), but being overly competitive decline with malice aforethought. Occasionally, I'd show up at their bar and give a good accounting of myself, all by myself, just to be contrary. 

Sunshine was our waitress at Tom O'Malley's bar. She was a pretty, young lady who didn't smile nearly enough. She HATED being called Sunshine and I was too immature to care. I never tried in the least to get flirty, personal or touchy. And I tipped well. I could afford to since my share of the bill was always as close to peanuts as I could get. Basket of french fries, one or two orange sodas. That was the fullness that the restaurant/bar got out of me. I could afford to tip better than 30 percent and I did. But I admit, one thing she said to me bugged me till the day I retired from active trivia competition (concurrent with Tom selling the bar). According to her, TIPS was short of To Insure Prompt Service.

And that bugs the heck of me, still, after all those years. It's NOT my responsibility to insure Tom paid Sunshine well. That was between him and her. Off-loading paying her enough onto the shoulders of the customers MIGHT have been all right, but honestly, TIPPING has ALWAYS been a bad system made worse in SOOOOO many ways. Tip sharing is common. Why should hard-working Sunshine share with one of her co-workers who spent most of her time flirting with well-dressed customers than doing her job? Or the other workers?? Well, because they all assumed tipping was off-setting the wages Tom was NOT paying them. And I don't want to single Tom out. That was the way the bar/restaurant biz ran back then. And still does for all I know. 

But shaming customers into paying to avoid some spittle in the drinks? NO. Just NO. Paying is what I do at the cash register, not looking over my shoulder to see that no customer or worker or owner helps themselves to the money meant for the single person it was meant for. 

And I THOUGHT about my tips. I have tipped a single penny to a particularly rude and incompetent server. And on that occasion I went over to the owner, or manager, I didn't know which, and said that I wouldn't be back and the server I was pointing at was why. Mean?? You betch'em Red Ryder. Everybody has a bad day and incompetency's happen. Being rude for something that is essentially your fault?? Not on my watch. EXCUSING that behaviour is how it happens again. And again. And again. You owe it to your fellow diners and drinkers to stop the boorishness now. A word to the manager, commiserating without being nasty, should be the reward for a server who apologizes for lack of good service. But tick me off, then blame me?? Well, reap the wind. 

So, imagine my surprise earlier this year when I got to the payment page trying out Real Canadian Superstore and saw a TIP in place. Fifteen percent no less. And I had neither met the shopper from Insta Cart doing my shopping, nor had a lick of service from them to adjudge a tip. And oh, it gets worse. The instructions on my order for NO replacements didn't mean much to my ad hoc replacement. That shopper was getting a PERCENTAGE of my bill as a tip. So, ignoring my no-replacements comment, the shopper merrily replaced a whole lot of stuff. I have allergies. Wrong trust and I could be in hospital assuming I could dial 911. So, the food bank did well with my groceries that day. 

I still paid the TIP I'd promised. Later, I found the despicable amongst us, most of whom could laughingly be described as the well-to-do, rich slimeballs, would log in after the fact and CANCEL THE TIP!?!?! And why would these (frequently rich) jerks do this?? Well, the tip wasn't a pedestrian ten or 15 percent. No, the number would be in excess of 60, sometimes even 100 percent. They weren't going to pay it, so why not promise the moon??

Why?? Because the highest tip got the best treatment by the shopper. None of this queue business with first in, first shopped for. No, the orders get prioritized. That means shopping first, getting to the customer domicile first. Freshest food, items to those early in the priority, items not necessarily being available at the tail end of the queue. Survival of the richest. And to that, a plague on all your houses. Delivered as is, thank you. 

So, a guy like me with my modest tip, well I get what's left over. Literally. And to my shopper, no schadenfreude from me when you get bamboozled. Your integrity should be to ALL your customers,  not to the robber barons first, but to the customers who have ordered through the web, through apps, however. 

Of course, that ignores one thing. A guy's gotta eat. Should I come down on the shoulders of somebody willing to risk his or her life out in a pandemic to do what I won't do? Honestly, I'm housebound. I don't have much in the way of choice. Shoppers have a choice. I don't want to enforce a choice on them, but if they take the job, then playing favourites isn't the way to conduct yourself doing that job. And to the company that once again avoids paying its workers a living wage, SHAME ON YOU. 

This past week, still seething at the latest delivery from Voilà and the smacking around my credit card got from Grocery Gateway, I decided to try CornerShop. I'd looked at their site in the summer and seen emblazoned there-on, "NO TIPPING, WE PAY OUR SHOPPERS A GOOD WAGE!" So, imagine my disconcert when there, on the payment page, was a five percent tip already sitting there with options to make it bigger. I shook my head and decided to finish the order out, having wasted an hour 'shopping.' The food would be here in less than six hours. 

The shopper called me and asked me about no replacement. "None," I said. He argued anyways. The potato chips were available in the half-as-large size (for sixty percent of the price). "Okay," too tired to argue. I sat ten feet from my front door waiting for the delivery, which had the instructions, "Knock on door, Ring Doorbell, Phone in advance."

He was zero for three. I only noticed the groceries sitting on the porch when I got up to do something I do once a decade, look behind my TV. 

When I was finished hauling in the groceries I got on-line and made an attempt to cancel my account with the organization. I got one of those RATE OUR SERVICE emails and in a fit of blind fury, stabbed at the single star (zero not being available) and when faced with yet another TIP field, zeroed THAT out. Only later, I realized it might NOT have been an extra tip, it might have been the ONLY tip, And then, freshly revitalized at raging, I thought to myself that zero was more than he deserved. What if the order had been hot food on the very cold morning?? Or cold food in the midst of July?? The sheer callousness to deliver food and NOT let the customer know is ... well callous is about the right word. I didn't get my full order (which included fresh-baked bread) which was because my tip screwed my queue emplacement. My shopper didn't earn my money. Didn't earn his employer's money either. Cost them a customer. But the company that proudly proclaimed paying people a living wage, no longer bothers to do so. It would be a lie. 

I'll probably place an early spring order with Grocery Gateway. I've made my point. After a couple of months after that, I'll probably do a Voilà order again. Voilà does the best job of providing you with an order without resorting to unrequested replacements. I won't ever use a surrogate shopper service again. I have friends and extended family who regularly want to do it for me and I refrain during these troubled times. I love them too much to send them out into the cold, cruel world, with me having a LARGE WELL-FILLED PANTRY. It's NOT like I'm belt-tightening. So, I will wait until the Pandemic eliminates the excuses for these shopping services doing odious things in the future.

And yes, I understand I'm choosing their lives to endanger over those of my loved ones. And I'm being callous. But I'm not going to support the failure of organizations to pay their workers either. That day is done.