Sliver of the Prize

A smell of grease accompanied the sounds of eating and merrymaking out onto the streets of Helsinki, fresh and furious from one of its 13 McDonalds - restaurants. This particular one resided in its eastern parts, where the quality of life was generally poorer; while to most it was natural to dine in a fast-food restaurant, some had to do it in order to survive - the food came cheap. I watched as an old woman, slowly and with staggering steps, entered that restaurant -  corporate Finland incarnate. Just then, a stream of consciousness came to me in a sudden flash. I didn't see an old woman and a merrily colored restaurant; I saw a spent person, a drained person. Her black clothes, the ones she wore to hide her bulging belly, seemed to reflect the sadness of her position: forced to eat in a fast-food restaurant, forced to destroy her own health, that would've been sad enough for me. But that she most likely didn't even know that she was being used again, drained until she was dead? That broke the camel's back. I walked away, sadder by each step.

She continued inwards, calling to her memory the names of her children and their children. They'd visit her this week, and she'd take the kids dining here. Inside, one of the salesmen cleared a desk for her. It wasn't that busy inside right now - the seventh-to-ninth-graders who frequented the place were probably having class right now. What did it matter? She never minded anybody else than herself in there. One of the salesmen noticed her, smiled, even gave a small bow and called her over to the desk.

"What'd you like?"

She smiled faintly to the salesman, grateful for the service. Old people got nothing nowadays - she had heard they were going to cut all of the retirement funding, as well. What would she do then, where'd she go? To a house full of other old people, taken care of by an undermanned staff with little to no training who didn't care about you? Her smile died quickly.

"I think I would like a Big Mac this time. Also water and salad, if you will."

The salesman bowed again. Oddly enough, she didn't seem to notice.

"On the house."

Now she was taken aback.

"No, I will pay --"

The salesman cut her off with a flick of his hand. She looked frightened for a moment, but then corrected her features.

"On the house, as I said. Please, go find yourself a seat..."

She took a few steps backwards, quite surprised, and went to sit to a cozy side table with a window view onto the street. Soon her meal was brought to her, all jumbo-sized. With the meal, someone else sat down to the table - an old man, complete with white beard and the generally scrawny appearance that many seem to expect from elderly folk. She recognized him immediately.

"You don't have to live in poverty, Jane." The first words. He said them quietly, but there seemed to be a hypnotic quality in his voice. He had clearly practiced it since last time.

"I don't know anything." A touch of frustration in her tone surfaced as she spoke. "And that is the truth."

Author's Note

The first paragraph is based on a true situation -- the ones after that are just experimenting with ideas and styles. They might not flow together well, which is, for now, a necessary minus.

Reviews

[Nienor Niniel]

I enjoyed this story. It begins with a bit of social commentary and then switches to a fiction story which ends with intrigue. (What did the woman mean in her reply? What does not knowing anything have to do with her poverty? Questions! (:)

As a matter of curiosity, I am wondering what you meant by "corporate Finland incarnate". I like learning about other countries. Were you referring to the old woman or the McDonald's? Do only old people work in Finland?

[Mikael Malmberg]

For your question: a bit of the both. Yes, we have many very old workers here due to the child boom right after the war. Now those ages are retiring though, but we still have loads of those old workers. McDonalds is another reference to the 'corporate Finland', which isn't as strong of a reference as the one which links through the working class. Then again old people do NOT work at McDonalds, they're far too proud for that.

[Nienor Niniel]

Ah, okay, thanks for the explanation.