Why Eating Out is Not What It Used to Be

                  

                 I think my salads should come from home, like this one, from now on.

 

              If I were to be honest, I would tell you that I remain astounded that the damage done in the COVID era has not improved.  I live in a Mid-Atlantic state which is, not in the least, a depressed area. During the COVID era, all of the restaurants in our county closed leaving only a couple of fast food restaurants near the interstate exits. Originally, we thought that the normal restaurants would return, but they haven't. One by one, they closed permanently.  Now, even the sheriff's department drives to the edge of the county to go to a better fast food joint.

                   In a quest to eat properly, I don't eat out often. Once in awhile though, I get sick of preparing food, meal planning, or I just want to have some food I didn't make myself.  Last week, I took the family to the Wendy's just off the interstate. One of us had wanted a particular burger they had as a special promotion. I had not been to this location in about four years.  We ordered, and then stood to wait. The total for three people, including my salad, was thirty-two dollars. When we realized that the people who were actually getting their food had ordered more than a half an hour ago, we decided to fill our cups and sit down. The restaurant wasn't particularly busy, but there were a few young families ordering.  Forty-five minutes later, they called us. "Oh, you're food isn't ready," they said. "We just wanted to make sure that you hadn't left".  About ten minutes after that they called us to collect our food.

                    We ate inside,foolishly hoping the food would be worthy of the wait. Mine was a very average iceberg lettuce salad with crouton crumbles flavored with parmesan, some asiago slices, chopped chicken and two Caesar salad dressing packets that were 240 calories each if you used all of them.

                    I ate half the salad and all of the chicken on it.  The following day I was ill, I believe from the salad.  I resolved not to eat there again, but who knows, in another four years, I could be stupid enough to turn the roulette wheel again, in this location.

                    It has taken several days for my stomach to feel better. I am still not back to what is a normal diet for me. Today, I was in another town running an errand and I was hungry, realizing that I haven't eaten today.  I stopped by a very busy Hardees, thinking that something small would be a good idea, and that all the locals standing inside waiting to order couldn't all be wrong. After I entered, I noticed that there were people arguing with the staff about how long they had been waiting.  "I'm sorry ma'am", said one of the younger workers. "No one wants to work".  I ordered a small portion of chicken strips, and a cole slaw and a drink. It came with french fries. I waited fifteen minutes.  When I took my order, I asked for honey mustard and ketchup packets. They were out of those. They ran out of french fries during the time I was waiting.  Then I asked for a fork for the cole slaw, and they were out of that too.  

                   I think I'm just going to load a cooler for the car and eat out of that in the future. You might wish to do the same.

                 

Goodbye "Carole"

               

                                    This is not my Paddington, but you get the idea.

 

 

       Yesterday, before I woke up, I dreamt I spoke with a friend I haven't spoken to for many years. I hadn't been able to look her up over the years because I don't know what name she used after she was divorced, and so we had lost touch.

                 When I was a young girl, I graduated from high school at sixteen and went on to college.  A young man I dated was friends with many people from other colleges and so I met a woman I will call Carole. My boyfriend had been a mutual friend of Carole and her husband.  Carole was a college student from a wealthy family who had married into a wealthy family.  She was navigating learning to be a wife while going to college,  while also being a twenty something with friends.  I remember her as particularly kind and generous.  She once tried to lend me her Mercedes while my car was being repaired.

                  I became a friend and confidante to Carole, and she became a slightly older friend and chief "encourager" to me.  Life was hard for us both. I was navigating being the youngest person in my college class and having family issues, and she was navigating being a young wife to a man she didn't understand. We did our best to support each other. However, I was young enough not to be able to offer much more than encouragement myself. 

                  Before long these days ended. I moved and attended a different college, and she admitted that her husband was abusive, and she moved away before finally getting a divorce.  We spoke in notes a few more times, but last time we spoke she had a new job and new life, and I wasn't sure whether I would be a reminder of those tough days with her first marriage.

                   In the busy years that followed we lost touch.  Over the years, I have thought about her from time to time, but I have not been sure what last name she used after her divorce, or whether she remarried afterward.

                   In my dream yesterday morning, she told me "My name is Stevenson. I use my maiden name".

That morning, I looked up the woman I will call "Carole Stevenson" for the purpose of this post.  There she was.  After relocating, my friend had become a businesswoman.  She married briefly and had a daughter.  She was divorced again and moved to another state.  Eventually, her daughter grew up, married, and had a son.   My friend was diagnosed with cancer and was taken care of by her second former husband until her death last year.  In her obituary was a lovely fairly recent picture that was so clearly the woman I had known all those years ago.

                   The really funny thing about this is that one December, she and I went shopping in Morristown, New Jersey.  I believe it was Bamberger's that had the large Paddington bear with the hat, the raincoat, and wellington boots. I remember commenting that I loved Paddington and that I had read all the stories as a child.  The bear was a fortune and so I didn't give it any thought.  Carole must have returned another day and bought it for me, because she gave it to me in a large shopping bag as a Christmas present that year.  The bear was not only cherished by me, but it lived on a shelf in every one of my children's rooms at some time or another through the years. It is still a point of fascination for my grandson.

                     I don't understand how Carole could have been young, lived an entire life, and died, and I could have grandchildren now, and Paddington Bear looks as new as he did that first day in Bamberger's.

                    Carole, you have been missed from my life, but I was happy to trade your presence if it meant a new start and chance for happiness for you. I will always remember you fondly.