“Soon we will have to get vaccinated to get to McDonald’s”

The sisters Miep (81) and Ada (83) Huisman are questioningly standing in front of the McDonald’s on Groene Hilledijk in South Rotterdam. Yes, they know that they have to show a QR code to be able to eat, because they have just been sent away from HEMA. But they don’t have a smartphone (Miep), or they do have a smartphone but not yet the app with QR code (Ada). And they are hungry, not hungry!

From Saturday you can no longer enter in many places without a corona ticket. In all catering establishments (except for take-out), cinemas, theatres, concert halls, music venues, casinos, festivals, events and professional competitions, proof, in the form of a QR code on the smartphone or on paper, must be presented for access. Churches and mosques are exempt from this duty.

“We have been vaccinated,” says Miep Huisman to the girl behind the desk at the entrance of the McDonald’s.

Twice, Ada says, pulling out her vaccination card. The vaccination ticket is not a QR code, but the girl lets them in anyway. “You can’t leave two older ladies outside,” she says. If you watch for half an hour, you can see that her work today consists mainly of turning away one bewildered customer after another. Older people, young people, parents with children. What should we show, they ask. About half of the potential visitors leave. A few protest or react irritated. You can order, wait outside and then take it with you. Even without code.

With every guest who turns around and walks away, an average of eight and a half euros in turnover is lost, says franchise owner of this McDonald’s Ben Franken resignedly. He leans against his case outside, cup of Coke in hand. He’s wearing a tracksuit, he’s just been carrying chairs around.

Nonsense

Two friends with two children in prams are stopped at the door. “What nonsense is this”, responds Jazzy (31). “If we’re not allowed in, we won’t come here anymore,” says Nadia (28). “We don’t come here for ourselves, we come for the kids.” They have no QR code, they are not vaccinated.

Eventually Jazzy orders inside and Nadia waits outside with the children. She still mumbles something to herself. Jazzy, who comes out again: “We just walked past dozens of restaurants, you don’t have to show your QR code anywhere.”

“Don’t get mad at me for keeping the rules,” Franken tells them.

“I’m not mad at you,” says Nadia. “We just want to eat something.”

Jazzy: “Soon we will have to get vaccinated to get into McDonald’s. Are you crazy in your head? We abide by all the rules.”

Nadia has to laugh at her friend’s anger: “Soon we will get a chip in our arm and have to check in and out everywhere,” she shouts, now jolly.

Did you just say that there are no checks anywhere, Franken asks thoughtfully. He peers across to the KFC. Is someone there scanning QR codes or not, he mumbles to himself. “Can you see that?” [Ook bij KFC werd gecontroleerd op QR-codes.]

Also read: Corona pass with minimal support by the Chamber

Inside, Miep and Ada Huisman are now sitting behind a tray of fries and a hamburger. They talk about the paper QR code that Miep needs. Ada will ask one of her grandchildren to put the app on her phone. Miep: “On the square a neighbor told me this morning that you should call the GGD,” she says. “Then you get it sent home.”

Football canteen

A QR code is needed not only in restaurants, but also in football canteens. No, Nelly (66), Wim (68) and Peter (60) hadn’t realized that. They drink coffee, cola and eat a sandwich after their grandson’s game at the Amsterdam foot club WV-HEDW. But they’re fine with it and they have one – which no one asks about. Wim thinks that the corona pass is “necessary” “to get it away”. He knows people who didn’t want to be vaccinated but did because they wanted to go on holiday to France. “It just works that way.”

Information boards along the field and in the clubhouse state that you can pick up something in the canteen without a corona pass. But whoever sits down must be able to show it.

This is how the rules are now and the club can’t afford a fine

Around twelve o’clock vice-chairman of the club Hette Spoelstra puts on an orange vest with some reluctance. Corona coordinator, it says on the back. The club checks “randomly” in the canteen, he says. That feels “quite a bit weird”. Because in Amsterdam, the mayor has indicated that there will be no enforcement for the time being. Spoelstra: “So the boas don’t work, but we volunteers do have to check people. And then you might get a big mouth.” But hey, those are the rules now. And the club cannot afford a fine.

The football fathers he addresses first do not have a big mouth. Said Lamkadi (52) and H. Baulam (56) think the control is fine. Said has had corona twice. “Once in the first wave and very hard in the second wave.” Now he is vaccinated. He routinely conjures up his QR code. His fellow football father (not been ill) can only show the international code, which can already be obtained with one shot. “But you have been vaccinated twice?”, Spoelstra asks. The man nods. “Then I believe you.”

Everything runs smoothly

At the cinema, scanning the QR codes goes smoothly. The ticket seller at the counter of the Studio K arthouse in Amsterdam carelessly swipes his smartphone over that of the visitor. He turns the screen with the green tick towards the visitor with one hand, while he picks up the landline with the other hand. He waves the visitor’s outstretched ID. He is relaxed. Everything runs smoothly.

At the cinema, scanning the QR codes goes smoothly

The visitors, who had been warned in advance to arrive on time, lined up to the cinema. On the long staircase they stand together a bit awkwardly, because, someone says: “Oh yes, that one and a half meters is no longer necessary.” A lady with gray hair reminisces about Russia, where she was ten years ago: “There was a huge queue for an exhibition, but the Russians seemed to love being there – they could talk for hours. ” Then the hall door swings open and everyone grabs their smartphone. “Not necessary,” says the ticket seller, who has come upstairs. “You can all go through.”

Back in Rotterdam. The terrace at café ‘t Kruispunt on Beijerlandselaan is full. The QR code is cheerfully grumbled.

“It’s impossible to maintain.”

“Then give that one and a half meters back.”

“Have you looked at the mosques yet, everyone can walk right in there!”

“Now it’s still going,” says the owner. “But will you see me scanning when Feyenoord is playing and the whole cafe is packed?”

The five men and women around a table are all vaccinated, but not all wholeheartedly. “You are hindering yourself if you don’t vaccinate,” says the woman. After a lot of worrying, she got a vaccination a week ago. She got Janssen so she only had to come once. Her husband, sitting next to her, has previously been vaccinated with Pfizer. He was sick twice. His mother is still terrified that he will get some of it, he says.

In collaboration with Merel Thie on Karel Berkhout

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