What to lose if the pandemic finishes sharing food?

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My 2-year-old has trouble sharing. Open a bag of Goldfish cookies and know how lucky you were getting one or two. Fortunately for him, now that he spends most of his time in the confines of our house, he doesn’t have to make a percentage before.

When my son’s day care in the Bay Area closed in mid-March, he was given great opportunities to be remodeled, and combat, the art and field accept not having everything for us. This is a wonderful lesson for young children. But lately, I’ve been thinking about how the pandemic and the new restrictions the crisis has brought to our daily lives have reduced the opportunities for adults to be formed of how to divide in percentages alike. A concrete example: food, which was once the most common of all needs, is no longer public, whether in the field itself or professionally.

“The days of this giant glass jar of rubber bears in the workplace are over,” says Diane Swint, market position manager for ezCater, a net commercial catering service. The Compabig apple, founded in Boston, which was first suffering from the closure of workplaces in Apple’s states, is now looking to rotate its operations. Last month, ezCater announced Relish, a service that allows companies to continue feeding staff on-site and remotely by providing packaged food distributed by friends through contactless delivery. This is a practical resolution for the combined catering apple, but it is also a sign of the mandatory and consequential replenishment of the most collective family-flavored foods and buffets, once it is not uncommon in corporate cafes and dining rooms of giant apples.

Of course, the pandemic never affects workers’ eating habits in the workplace. Dinners with friends have also been successful, not less than in large numbers of apples in the country. The same goes for wine tastings or in a bar, looking like other people.

Food isn’t the only thing we share, but eating is a particularly good example of a shared activity because it’s necessary, and because we engage in it throughout our lives—unlike playing with blocks, perhaps. It’s also, inherently, one of the most social activities we partake in, from childhood to old age, in personal and professional settings. (My grandparents, whom I spent lots of time with as a child, once told me I couldn’t have a friend over because there was “no meat in the house.” I tried to explain that my 8-year-old friend wasn’t coming for the kebabs, but it didn’t go over well.)

How much influences and makes it hard for us to share food, as well as nurturing our bodies? A study by researchers Kaitlin Wooley and Ayelet Fishbach, published in the journal Psychological Science, tested whether food in a shared dish, compared to food on individual dishes, can also establish cooperation between two people. Unsurprisingly, the result of the study showed that “shared cooperation in the distribution of the admission provision among foreigners”.

Sharing food is like a cement for businesses. And yet here we are, in a world where best friends packed by individuals are here to stay, no less than for the foreseeable future. Even when the pandemic is behind us, Americans and organizations will meet new friends. While these new practices are legitimately instituted and implemented and protect us from danger, some will not only reposition the way we eat, but will deeply reposition the way we interact.

“The snacks you’d like to have to look for probably won’t happen,” Robvia Kwok, senior vice president of other Americans at the Slack collaboration service, told me in a new interview. Removing snack bowls in the workplace may not look like a recording at the service station (and, frankly, it’s consistent with any gaming station that’s been canceled decades ago). But what about the missed opportunity to sit next to strangers at community tables in restaurants? Or the inability to spice up your friend’s food, some other not-not now that we’re all hyperactive and very familiar with hygiene.

Of course, food is never the only potential percentage product. Another study, led by researchers Zoe Liberguy and Alex Shaw, proved the influence of sharing secrets in young children. It turns out that young children deduce so much from sharing secrets, mainly that passing secrets from one individual to another is an even more powerful indicator of close ties than sharing a physical resource, such as a cookie. (Yes, cookies were components of the study).

“If you see other Americans eating similar food in a similar bowl, you’re making inferences about their relationships,” says Liberman, a study co-professor and assistant professor at the University of California, Santa Barbara. “But it also gives us a lot of way to share non-physical things like time and secrets.”

Unfortunately, I don’t have much time and secrets. But the reality is that there are things that can’t be touched that would bother us about sharing. There’s an explanation for why Zoom, the video conferencing service, is booming. The same goes for Twitch, Amazon’s own form of streaming for players. We all feel the connection, sharing, even assuming that breaking the bread into a mixture is never an option.

“The Huguys are very motivated friends,” says Liberguy of the University of California, Santa Barbara.

Huguy beings are also incredibly innovative. According to this recent Apple article, Dixie’s cuts were the “escape start” of the Spanish influenza pandemic of 1918. Believe it or not, before this epidemic, it wasn’t uncommon for metal cupstations not to be uncommon and shared across many people. Disgusting, isn’t it? Again, the same goes for jelly bear glass jars in the office.

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This story originingreatest friend presented in Fortune.com

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