The sad meal

Lately I’ve been working so much that I’m always hustling at lunch time. I get small gaps of time between project deadlines or client meetings just to get a quick bite.

Unfortunately that little time leads me to having to eat fast food. Subway, BurgerKing you name it. Whatever is closest.

Over the last month I’ve been to McDonald’s three times. More than I’ve been over the past 3 years. They were close to the places I had meetings. After all, they are almost everywhere you look!
On those three occasions I was alone, and I spent about 20 minutes having lunch.

Inflation in Argentina has skyrocketed on these last years, and fast food is not really as cheap as it was before, or as it currently remains in other countries. The cheapest combo in McDonald’s is $50 pesos (that’s about 9 dollars). Not very accesible for everyone.

I like to analyze people whenever I can. I find it interesting. I like to guess what they do for a living, where they are going, their relationships, etc. I don’t know, it’s just fun for me.

Being alone for lunch, with no one to talk to, and in a public place, is always a great time to do that.

On those three visits to McDonald’s I noticed a heart-breaking pattern.
Parent’s buying Happy Meals for their children, but not eating themselves. Why? Because they can’t afford it.

And I mean it. They didn’t eat before, or they weren’t eating later. There eyes stared the mouthwatering burger their children were eating as it was solid gold . With eyes of shame, they sometimes took a bite from the hamburger or one or two fries to their children’s discontent.

Their kids got mad, and sometimes cried. Little children don’t understand money. They don’t know what things cost, and they don’t remotely think about their parent’s finnancial situation. Money is not in their lives. They just love McDonald’s and the little toys inside their happy meals.

Those three days at McDonald’s the scene was the same and it just felt terrible to look at. Nobody around cared, everyone was minding their own business.

By looking at them, I wondered what I was supposed to do. I had the ability to buy them some extra burgers… but… would that insult them? would that make them feel bad? would they feel ofended or disrespected? I assumed they would so I stayed where I was…

After that initial feeling of sadness, I felt incredible proud of them. They were smiling. Something that their kids took for granted took an enormous effort behind. And that effort was love. That’s what parents do.

With no more time to spare, I cleaned my tray and walked outside.
As I left I saw a happy family finishing a sad meal.