Coronavirus coverage: Fake TV smiles just make things worse

The fake smile. It’s painful enough when someone’s trying to sell you something, but it’s downright rude when it’s offered during a time of crisis, frustration or grief.

I first noticed this phenomenon on the local news maybe 30 years ago. We were about to go through our 20th day of 100-degree temperatures in a month (or something like that). Everyone was miserable. Yet there was Mr. Smiley Weather Dude, acting like he’d just won a million bucks in the lottery. I turned the TV off.

I haven’t watched the local news in decades, mainly because I got tired of shallow, smirking heads delivering news of car crashes, apartment fires and government scandals between tasteless smiles and vapid banter.

Oh, the incongruity!

They might as well start singing, “It’s the end of the world as we know it, and I feel fine.”

No one likes bad news, but when it comes from smiling, laughing messengers, it’s that much harder to take. It gives the impression that, “You poor saps have to go through this, but we don’t care. We’re just fine here!”

It’s like a punch to the gut. Rubbing salt in the wound. Adding insult to injury. Pick your well-worn cliché. Maybe you should take fiddling lessons so you can practice in case Rome burns again, Smiley Anchor.

Default-happy seems to be demeanor of choice for TV journalists delivering the news. And others, too. Videos show flight attendants with plastered-on smiles demonstrating how to evacuate a jumbo jet in the event of a crash: as though it would be some big party. Commercials for the latest obscenely priced designer medication show carefree families frocking in the park; meanwhile, in the background, an announcer calmly ticks off potential side effects: “May cause irritable bowel, sweating, constipation, fever, heartburn, psychosomatic anxiety, brain hemorrhage, alien abduction or, in extreme cases, even death.”

(The very idea of drugs companies paying millions to advertise already-overpriced drugs to people who can’t afford them sickens me. But that’s another story.)

At least pretend to care

This brings us to the coronavirus tragedy. And yes, it’s not just a “crisis,” it’s a tragedy. People are angry. They’re angry about being put out of work. They’re angry about being stuck at home. And they’re scared about not being able to pay their bills or that they — or their loved ones — might contract the disease. And they’re hurting because people they know are stuck in a COVID-19 quarantine. Or dead.

Yes, safety measures are necessary, but telling us we have to stay away from our loved ones or stay home from work with a smile on your face makes it seem like you don’t give a rat’s ass. You might say we’re “all in this together,” but if you still have a job and you haven’t been infected that comes off as disingenuous and cruel. Especially if you don’t wipe that insipid smile off your face. At least try to pretend you care.

If you’re a journalist, it’s easy to numb yourself to the tragedies you’re reporting. And if you’re a government official, you probably have no clue what people outside of Washington or City Hall are going through. You’re more concerned with your own re-election than anything else. Oh, it’s not entirely your fault: You’re conditioned that way. Still, if you’re in politics, you probably have such a big ego there’s not much room in that self-centered brain of yours to care about “the little people” you were elected to serve.

But at least for a moment, pretend you care more about people than votes or Nielsen ratings. Pretend you understand what it might be like to be bored to death, stuck at home, with nothing to think about but the mounting bills you can’t pay or the possibility that you might get sick at Walmart. Think about that for a minute and wipe that automated, teeth-whitened smile off your face just long enough to think about the ramifications of that bad news you’re delivering.

People are dying. People are out of work. People are suffering. If you realize the implications of that and you’re still smiling, there’s something very, very wrong with you.