Their lives were upended by the pandemic. Months later, 10 Americans find ways to thrive.

A hotel housekeeper, furloughed for months, worries she’ll lose her benefits. A restaurant manager wonders how he’ll be able to sustain the livelihoods of his family and staff. A recent college graduate, struggling with her mental health, is terrified of graduating into a recession.

Like so many others across the country, their lives have been upended — jobs lost, companies brought to a standstill, families separated and futures uncertain.

In April, The Washington Post began following the lives of 10 people navigating the coronavirus pandemic. Our goal was to understand how the pandemic would affect them and millions of other Americans facing similar challenges over time. What would their lives look like months later? Would they be able to return to those lost jobs? Would businesses be able to survive and would federal aid programs make a difference?

Each person’s journey reflects how the pandemic fundamentally changed every aspect of American life.

I don’t know what the world is going to look like when this is all over, if it’s over.

Chloe Bates, 21, a recent college graduate in Baltimore

(Salwan Georges/The Washington Post)

I am not going to wait for a rescue. … I’m prepared to just make this my new normal.

Cara Briggs Farmer, 45, a sculpture artist in Marion, Iowa

(Kathryn Gamble for The Washington Post)

In the early months of the pandemic, most of the 10 people were still reeling from the virus’s onslaught. All but a few states had issued stay-at-home orders and shut down nonessential businesses. Entire industries were told to close their doors, sending the economy into a tailspin.

Diane Sphar, owner of a travel company in Cincinnati, saw hundreds of tour cancellations and was forced to lay off her staff. Mazhar Chughtai, an operations manager for a restaurant in a Virginia business district, teared up when he told his employees they needed to close, at least for now.

The workers were among 20.5 million Americans who found themselves without jobs by the end of April. The unemployment rate, at 14.7 percent, was the highest it had been since the Great Depression.

10 lives, interrupted

The voices of Americans searching for survival and reinvention amid an economic collapse

In Marion, Iowa, sculpture artist Cara Briggs Farmer braced herself for a downturn early on. Her shows were getting canceled and work was dwindling, so she took a 4 a.m. shift at a grocery store filling online orders. “I am not going to wait for a rescue. … I’m ready to do this for a year,” she said in April. “Realistically, I’m prepared to just make this my new normal.”

Sonya Roper, a 51-year-old grandmother and home health aide in High Point, N.C., struggled to find the personal protective equipment needed for her work treating elderly and other high-risk patients. Roper worried about getting sick herself. “If something happens to me, who’s going to take care of my grandkids?”

The uncertainty of what lay ahead was the biggest challenge for Chloe Bates, a college senior in Maryland. Bates was one of millions of students whose classes were moved online. Her graduation ceremony had been canceled. “I don’t know what the world is going to look like when this is all over, if it’s over. I don’t know how to plan,” she said. “It’s just like this big, blurry question mark in my head.”

In one way or another, all 10 were in precarious positions. Workers in some industries, including those cleaning hotel rooms and waiting tables, were especially vulnerable.

As Larrilou Carumba, a furloughed Marriott housekeeper in San Francisco, told us: “In this pandemic, we are not okay.”

I’ve been working for 60 years, and not having a job, I feel like the dryer when it’s finished with its spin cycle and it’s slowing down.

William Hensel, 75, a former car dealership employee in Webster, Tex.

(Callaghan O’Hare for The Washington Post)

What I’ve learned is sometimes you just have to keep putting one foot in front of the other and showing up to try to do your best, even when you don’t necessarily want to.

Erika Thomas, 42, founder of an ice cream business in Denver

(Matthew Staver for The Washington Post)

I have been in tears from the support that I’ve been getting from my clients. There’s no better gratitude.

Alanea Manuel, 38, owner of a hair salon in Alexandria, Va.

(Salwan Georges/The Washington Post)

In May, stimulus checks and loans from the $2 trillion Cares Act offered a glimmer of hope. But its rollout was plagued with glitches. A program to aid small businesses ran out of money within two weeks. For the businesses that did receive loans, the money quickly came and went, offering only a temporary salve for industries that would still need many months to recover.

Business owners including Erika Thomas, who started an ice cream company in Denver, found ways to pivot. The Paycheck Protection Program helped her and many other American business owners pay staff and cover rent. With few people visiting her scoop shops, she invested in selling pints, created a shipping program and placed her ice cream in grocery stores. “Things are crazy. We are back in start-up mode,” she said.

Across the nation, hair stylists, personal trainers and other professionals who worked in close daily contact with clients before the pandemic had to balance safety with the need to work.

Alanea Manuel, a hair salon owner in Virginia, opened her business just two years ago and feared taking on more debt. She also feared returning to her salon even when the state allowed it. She didn’t apply for loans from the Cares Act and instead survived by selling hair products and gift cards to some of her most dedicated clients. “I have been in tears from the support that I’ve been getting from my clients,” she said. “There’s no better gratitude.”

Mick Stewart, a personal trainer in Houston, didn’t want to depend on the government. He relied on his savings and made clear plastic shields to keep his clients safe in his home gym. He hoped to open again by May.

While others worked to keep their businesses, those who lost jobs or were furloughed faced a painful waiting game for benefits or a new opportunity. William Hensel, a 75-year-old veteran, lost his job at a car dealership in early April and had yet to receive any unemployment benefits or other assistance more than a month later.

Carumba received her unemployment benefits but had no idea when or if she’d return to work. Many nights, she worried about how she would support her three children as a single mother.

At least she could be with her family. “My kids are so happy that they’re here with me,” she said. “But I also can’t help think at the end of the day, when I’m alone and they’re asleep, that I don’t know long this is going to be.”

If something happens to me, who’s going to take care of my grandkids?

Sonya Roper, 51, a home health aide in High Point, N.C.

(Eamon Queeney for The Washington Post)

I was one of the naysayers about covid. … Then I saw the mortality numbers and I thought, ‘This is bad, this is really bad.’

Mick Stewart, 53, a personal trainer in Houston

(Callaghan O’Hare for The Washington Post)

I’m really scared about how I’m going to survive. … I don’t know what will happen, but I will never stop fighting for my kids.

Larrilou Carumba, 47, a furloughed hotel housekeeper in San Leandro, Calif.

(Melina Mara/The Washington Post)

In late May and June, many cities began reopening in hopes of reviving the economy. But cases of covid-19 grew in mid-June and by July 1, the U.S. saw more than 50,000 new cases in one day. Many who had expected to return to work were sent home or laid off a second time. Any optimism for recovery quickly diminished.

“We are feeling really scared. We are getting concerned about our long-term survival,” Chughtai told us. In late June, he was writing an appeal letter to his landlord, who was demanding rent. His restaurant had reopened, but with 10 percent of its usual revenue.

Stewart, who lives in Houston, was one of the first to see his city reopen and admitted he fears a second wave. “I was one of the naysayers about covid,” he said. “I’m a conservative, I thought it was BS. Then I saw the mortality numbers and I thought, ‘This is bad, this is really bad.’”

As the virus threatened the livelihoods of the 10 people tracked by The Post, it also took its toll on their friends and relatives. Carumba lost her mother-in-law in the Philippines to covid-19.

Sphar’s brother also contracted covid-19 and was struggling. That happened just as she laid off her staff a second time. “They’re being taken care of somewhat, but it’s not the same to me. I get too attached to people, and it hurts my heart, and it hurts down to my soul,” she said.

This isn’t a snow day where you’re waiting for the sun to shine and the world to return. Because the world we have lived in for so long in many ways is never coming back.

Diane Sphar, 64, owner of a travel company in Cincinnati

(Maddie McGarvey for The Washington Post)

We are getting concerned about our long-term survival.

Mazhar Chughtai, 58, a restaurant operations manager in Springfield, Va.

(Salwan Georges/The Washington Post)

As the project tracking 10 Americans closes this month after 100 days, the country continues to struggle. Cases have surged in many states. The death toll has surpassed 160,000. While the economy continues to contract, Congress remains divided over the details of a second stimulus package.

Rather than wait for government help that may never come or may not be enough if it does, this group of Americans and millions of others nationwide are adapting as best they can. After considering closing her salon, Manuel has reopened and decided to continue her business. Bates will begin a new job in the fall. Briggs Farmer has kept her job at the grocery store but is seeing her studio work pick up. Thomas plans to open at least two new stores by next year but still struggles with doubt.

“The fatigue of [the pandemic] has really set in. I’ve wrestled with feeling ineffective and just tired,” Thomas said. “What I’ve learned is sometimes you just have to keep putting one foot in front of the other and showing up to try to do your best, even when you don’t necessarily want to.”

For others, the road to recovery remains unclear. Hensel has not found a new job. Chughtai said that without additional government assistance, his restaurant may be forced to close permanently. Carumba’s $600 unemployment benefit ended July 31, and she’s afraid she won’t be able to cover basic necessities. “I’m really scared about how I’m going to survive,” she said this week. “I don’t know what will happen, but I will never stop fighting for my kids.”

Stewart, the trainer in Houston, is one of the only people in the group who believes the virus will subside in a couple of months.

Most expect it will be much longer before people will feel safe resuming their normal ways. Despite her relentless optimism, even Sphar said she knows her life has irrevocably changed. “This isn’t a snow day where you’re waiting for the sun to shine and the world to return. Because the world we have lived in for so long in many ways is never coming back.”

Rachel Siegel, Renae Merle, Julie Vitkovskaya and Jena McGregor contributed reporting.

Source:WP