Last month, an elderly volunteer usher for the Arvada Center got pushed to the ground when she told a theater patron he would have to keep his mask on throughout the performance, per current Jefferson County Public Health orders. Another got called a Nazi for doing the same.

At that point, for the health and safety of the Arvada Center’s largely older core of ushers, Box Office Manager Amber Gale told them to stop reminding people about their own health and safety.

Because people are losing their freaking minds.

Last week, a local stage manager who doubles as a Whole Foods stocker watched an older woman blow her top over the shape of one of the breads. She demanded that the grocery’s resident bread-maker be fired.

Blame ongoing COVID fatigue, isolation anxiety, economic insecurity, remote learning or the Broncos’ continuing offensive (and offensive!) ineptitude. But none of that excuses the rampant boorish behavior that is becoming somehow normalized the longer COVID has its finger pressed squarely on all of our collective buttons.

Civility is dead. Buried right next to common sense, critical thinking and basic human decency.

Shannan Steele is a beloved local musical theater performer who occupies a rarified place in local theater history, having performed in Denver’s longest-running musical, the Denver Center’s “I Love You, You’re Perfect, Now Change.” But for most Broadway-caliber performers who choose to make Colorado their home, it takes two careers to get by.

Steele, who will appear in the play “Hurricane Diane” for the Aurora Fox in March, is also a licensed physical therapist who has been working in acute care for a large hospital in Lafayette for the past seven years. In May, she will complete her doctorate. But none of that cred mattered much to a recent COVID patient who wanted nothing to do with what Steele was peddling (his recovery).

Steele’s job is to get the body of any isolated patient moving. That prevents bed sores, increases circulation, improves mental health and speeds rehabilitation. Steele is among thousands of health-care professionals who risk their own safety every time they walk into the COVID zone – meaning the hospital room of an unvaccinated COVID patient who is now taxing the system with their avoidable illness. Steele’s job is to provide them with compassionate, quality care without judgment.

“People don’t realize there is an emotional and mental toll on those of us who have chosen to stay in the field and put on the PPE and step into the room and do what we do,” Steele said. “And it’s really rough to see a person suffer so greatly when they didn’t need to.”

The man, whom Steele describes as “a thorn in a pile of roses,” was an ICU patient who had maxed out his oxygen and was transitioned to a breathing machine that’s just one step before a ventilator.

Steele entered the man’s room. He was sitting up in a chair. He was capable of movement. And he refused her every attempt to get him to move a muscle. She told him that standing up and sitting down is good exercise. That marching in place would expand his lungs and endurance. “The more we work your lungs, the less chance this virus has to take over,” she told him.

He responded no, no and no. “Because I don’t have COVID,” he said. Even though he had, in fact, tested positive for the novel coronavirus, which is why he was in the hospital, risking brain damage and death by refusing treatment. The man was in complete denial about the existence of COVID, and he had no respect for science or the medical professionals trying to save him. Steele was prepared for all of that.

“But I think the hardest part was that he was just so rude to everyone,” Steele said. “He had zero gratitude for anything that dozens of people were trying to do to keep him alive.” And yet, she thinks she understands where all of this anger and ignorance starts.

“We just don’t know where another person is coming from unless we have fully walked in their shoes,” Steele said. “We already have this mass political polarization, and that has now bled into this mass pandemic polarization that is bringing out the absolute worst in human behavior. I think that’s because we have all been in fight-or-flight mode for nearly two years now. When the human condition is placed in a state of trauma and panic and survival mode for this long, I think people’s capacity for grace, patience and compassion becomes diminished. You simply cannot have a grasp on sound human behavior when you have been in this mode for this long.”

At the Arvada Center, patrons who were upset about the cancellation of “Elf, The Musical” performances did not simply accept refunds gracefully. Some demanded perks and even additional compensation for their trouble. And they took it out on the front-line box-office workers. Gale has since had to work in additional training in de-escalation techniques.

“People used to get mad once in a great while, but now it seems like someone is berating my staff once per night,” Gale said. “And there is more of a mob mentality now. It feels like people somehow think it’s OK for them to stop treating people as human beings. Whatever the reason, people have lost their filters.”

Patron services is the highest-turnover job in all of the arts. Why? Because they are underpaid, underappreciated – and now we can add “they sometimes get pushed to the ground for enforcing mask mandates” to the list.

I was thinking about all of this last month as I waited on hold for 57 minutes to get my “The Lion King” tickets straightened out with an embattled Denver Center box-office employee. During the wait, it occurred to me: Every single customer this worker is talking to today has been on hold for pretty much 57 minutes. I didn’t get angry. I got empathetic.

While on hold, my mind went back to March 22, when I dipped into my local Safeway hours after the massacre at the Boulder King Soopers. It was nearly empty. As the checker finished my order and quietly wished me good night, I made a point to say, “Hey, I appreciate you.” Sunny, it turns out her name was, started to tear up and said softly, “Thank you. We don’t hear that very often. It’s been a hard year.”

Turns out, she hadn’t even heard the news from Boulder yet.

I don’t know what’s wrong with people. But I think things might be a little less wrong if we resist the next urge to lash out at a customer-service rep and say, “Hey, I appreciate you,” instead.