With New Zealand finally joining the club of countries with vaccine programmes under way, there's a chance we could also join another.
That's the club of countries with queue-jumpers - people determined not to wait their turn for a dose.
A steady drip of cases is pooling around the world as people who aren't frontline workers or elderly elbow their way towards liquid protection.
A 54-year-old former Goldman Sachs investment banker and the head of Canada's largest pension fund, resigned after defying public health advice and travelling to Dubai for a dose. Only 4.5 per cent of Canadians have been vaccinated so far.
In late January, a Canadian casino executive and his actress wife slipped into the remote town of Beaver Creek to get injections intended for indigenous older people.
"There is nothing more un-Canadian than going to another jurisdiction to jump the line because you have the means to do so," the British Columbia premier, John Horgan, said.
Flights from Germany to a Moscow airport are reportedly being arranged for people to get the Sputnik V vaccination without entering Russia.
A pair of women in Florida, aged 33 and 44, dressed up to appear elderly in order to scam their way to a vaccine dose. "You've stolen a vaccine from somebody that needs it more than you," an Orange County sheriff's deputy in Florida told them.
Squabbling has also broken out at higher levels. This week, Italy blocked a shipment of 250,000 AstraZeneca jabs from continuing on to Australia, over supply shortfalls with the British-Swedish pharmaceutical company.
The pandemic has had all sorts of behavioural impacts. On a lighter note, it has broken down social barriers.
People around the world have been stuck in their homes or quarantine hotels at times, or have just chosen to work from home. And suddenly those homes - those private spaces - have been opened up to others' scrutiny like never before.
Thanks to Zoom, workmates, distant relatives and nosy friends have been able to judge other peoples' taste in casualwear, decor, books and DVDs.
In a video of a Zoom group, the Queen breezily chatted with officials responsible for rolling out the vaccine in Britain, everyone in equal-sized screens. It was a rare glimpse of a relaxed, smiling and candid monarch.
"Well, once you've had the vaccine you have a feeling of, you know, you're protected, which is, I think, very important," the Queen said. "As far as I can make out, it was quite harmless, very quick. And I've had lots of letters from people who've been very surprised by how easy it was to get the vaccine."
We've become used to reporters on CNN or the BBC analysing market moves from their living rooms, or medical experts in offices in surgery gear. Some show up on a "room-rater" account on Twitter.
We're also familiar with lower levels of video quality and technical glitches that come with Zoom news appearances.
Conversations become broken snatches of words, faces pixilate to scary effect. It's rare for a news bulletin to go an hour without an anchor saying "it looks like we've lost" a link.
The Zoom cross is the news equivalent of the impromptu encounter that can sabotage any politician on a campaign walkabout. It strips back the professional gloss and gravitas to show a more human side.
It's simply harder to present an air of dignity, control, super confidence and apparent perfection. Those things tend to require distance, impressive settings, lighting, make-up and expensive clothes.
Axios reports that Zoom exploded from 10 million users in December 2019 to 300 million during the pandemic.
According to a Stanford University study "nonverbal overload" could be causing Zoom fatigue from sitting in one spot and making prolonged eye contact.
Long periods of interaction are usually reserved for close friends and family, but Zoom makes us do that with everyone, every day, Stanford University communications expert Jeremy Bailenson writes.
Who would have thought appearing on a screen could be so exhausting?