Dining today is not what it was two months ago. When you go out, you’ll be greeted by workers in masks and gloves, you’ll eat in a mostly empty restaurant, you won’t be able to sit at the bar, and it’s going to feel a little weird.

I chose a chain restaurant that I like for my first dinner out. My thinking was this: I don’t want to beat up on a local place if they’re doing things wrong, because everyone is confused about what is right. And I also felt that J. Alexander’s Redlands Grill would have it right; when it comes to training, chain restaurants have got it going on.

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And I was right, minus one infraction: There were seats at the bar. Even though they were spaced 6 feet, bar areas are closed for now. There seems to be some confusion about this among several restaurateurs, but here’s a link to the Shelby County Health Department’s directive that makes it clear: “Bar areas should remain closed at this time.”

Yes, J. Alexander’s took PPP money — they took $15.1 million of it and that’s not cool. But they gave it back, and they get credit for that.

I met a friend for dinner — separate cars for social distancing — and everyone who worked in the restaurant made me feel safe about eating out. They wore masks and gloves, and they changed gloves every time they handled a dish touched by a customer. “We are going through a lot of gloves,” our server told me.

The food, as always, was good, and it felt so normal to order a cocktail, an icy and bracing martini, and have it come in a glass instead of one of those nifty Old Dominick pouches. The grouper in a creamy butter sauce with a mound of mashed potatoes, grilled baby artichokes, the fabulous avocado bomb take on sushi — it was all good. I think it’s too early for restaurants to be open, but it felt nice to be there. Not like it did, but who’s to say it ever will?

Here’s my problem with going out to dinner: You. I would say “us,” but it’s not me. I was the only guest there with a mask. Look, I know you can’t eat in them, but you need to wear a mask when you’re in public. I do it to keep you safe; is it too much to ask for the same consideration?

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We all have a comfort level and mine is not crazy stringent. If so, I’d still be at home. But I’ve worked throughout the shutdown and if I needed to be in public, then I was — 6 or more feet away from anyone, in a mask, in gloves if I felt I needed them, though I understand the controversy with them. I have sanitizer and a spray bottle of alcohol, used interchangeably for my hands. Truth: More than once I’ve been tempted to weaponize the spray when people don’t respect distance. 

Then there’s this. I sat in my car to wrap up a phone call before I went in the restaurant. I saw the hostess wipe down the door handles inside and out, which she did thoroughly. That handle was clear for me to touch when she finished, and it stayed that way for about 60 seconds.

Two men, riding together in a truck, walked to the door with no masks. Right before he reached for the handle, one of them wiped his nose then opened the door with the same hand. That handle went nuclear in a split second, and I was torn. I wanted to tell him what he did, but that would no doubt seem confrontational and everyone is already sensitive. I didn’t want to touch the door, didn’t want anyone else touching it, and I didn’t want to tell the hostess on him.

So I sprayed the handle with my alcohol, then touched — with a clean tissue from my car — in a different place to open the door. And listen up: Please don’t wipe your nose and touch a door handle. Think about what you’re doing.

Is this hyper-vigilance too much? Nope. It’s a little exhausting, but it’s the price we pay to move about freely.

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The hostess took us to a table just two removed from a group of five men, one less than the maximum of six allowed. It was too close for me. I asked her for another table, she pleasantly obliged. I started to apologize, then reconsidered. Even though she was following the rules, the whole restaurant was almost empty so why not space us even farther apart? She agreed.

We were given disposable menus, the style of which caused some complaining from a table that came in later — they thought the font needed to be bigger, and it was pretty small.

The kitchen is open at Redlands, so I was able to take a look inside and I was pleased with what I saw. Everyone was masked and gloved, and I can’t say if they were exactly 6 feet apart, but they weren’t on top of one another.

Gloves are a touchy issue: We wear masks mostly to protect other people, and gloves are mostly to protect ourselves. But changing them frequently, as I was told they do at Redlands, is another story. If my server truly had on clean, fresh gloves every time he brought something to the table, that’s a plus.

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The waiting area was, first of all, unnecessary as there were maybe 20 diners in the whole place. But paper signs taped on the banquettes asked people nicely (please) not to sit. A sign on the front door promised frequent sanitation of tables, that workers with a temperature above 100.4 would be sent home (they’re scanned before each shift, general manager Flannigan Clifford said), and that all employees would be in masks and gloves.

The ladies’ room was clean. The faucets are touchless, and a trashcan is placed next to the door so you can open with your paper towel then toss it behind you. The toilets are not touchless, but don’t tell me you haven’t flushed a public toilet with the sole of your shoe before. If not, no better time than now to begin.