As a little girl, in the early 1990s, we lived remotely in the high desert, and we were very poor. I always thought of fast food restaurants as being fancy treats. Even on long road trips we usually brought small snacks, or did without.
I remember in middle school, a friend invited me to McDonalds, because they were selling hamburgers for only 10 cents that day, to support the local football team. I was shocked as i watched everyone in the restaurant eat hamburger after hamburger, some people ate five to ten.
I was from a family of very small portions of rice or potatoes, and a very treasured small main course. Just a scoop. Rarely any seconds. You ate what was in front of you and never complained.
My parents gave me a hard time about the ten cents for the burger. It was a resource. So I sat there in shock watching everyone at the table eating buckets of fries, and sandwich after sandwich, and I nearly cried. I realized I was poor. I sat there with my treasured dime in my hand, for my one really special restaurant sandwich.
I went up to the counter, and ordered my burger. It took forever because everyone was ordering large volumes. But I got mine, and everyone asked if that was all I was going to eat. I ate my hamburger, and then just sat there, seeing something I had never witnessed before except at holidays. People eating for fun, until they were totally full. I was jealous and ashamed.
My tummy was growling, because I skipped lunch to come there. And then that night I was sent to bed without dinner because I already had eaten at the restaurant. I laid there in bed confused by the two worlds. People who could eat until they were full, as part of a party. And then my world where there was never enough, and a dime for a sandwich that one almost could never taste, was something really special.
On Fridays we might get fish and chips - 20c each for a piece of fish, 20c for chips for 4. Feed the family for $1.
