Ep. 6 - McDonald's

Writer: William Jiang

Editor: Rita Li

It was March 15, 1999, when I was forced to leave my nostalgic hometown and start my journey of illegal immigration to the United States. As much as I was haunted by the constant fear of beat-up violence, I was more uncertain of the future that loomed ahead. All I knew was that my parents had sacrificed a lot and spent a lot of money to bring me to the United States. My parents told me that in America, there are opportunities. There, I could earn more money to pay the family’s high interest loans. America was a place where I could be safer and survive. Home was no longer a stable sanctuary. Home became an idea wherever hope carried me.

In my group were three people: me and two other guys. Our first stop in the immigration process was New Zealand. We were hungry after getting off the plane, so we found a nearby McDonald’s. Despite being the best English speaker in the group, the only fast food vocabulary I could recall was “cheeseburger.” To avoid making any scenes and have a smooth transaction, we decided to simply order 5 cheeseburgers for the 3 of us. We didn’t even think about ordering drinks because eating burgers was already the best we could have ever asked for. 

“Can I have five cheeseburgers?” I asked after walking up to the counter.

The cashier appeared confused; I assumed it was because of my unclear pronunciation, so I repeated my order. The cashier only caught the words “five,” “cheese,” and “burger.” Thinking we wanted five burgers and five cheeseburgers, he placed down a total of ten burgers. I knew we wouldn’t be able to finish that many burgers with just three people, but I was afraid I couldn’t explain further in English. Maybe we can save the burgers for later. 

The ten burgers cost a total of 27 dollars and 10 cents. China has stopped using one-cent coins long before, and the smallest currency then in China was mao which is ten cents. Thus, I assumed the smallest unit in New Zealand would also be ten cents. I paid using my smallest coins as if they were dimes. But in reality, the smallest coins were pennies that represented one cent. So I handed the cashier with only a little over 2 dollars.

Looking puzzled, the cashier cocked his head at the 2 dollars. “Twenty-seven and ten cents,” he repeated, stretching the words as he spoke as if I couldn’t understand it.

Although my English wasn’t that great, I could still understand numbers. Numbers are one of the first things you learn when starting a new language. I told the cashier that I did indeed pay $27.10. The two of us just stood there awkwardly for a long time. In desperation, the cashier brought out the manager.

“It’s twenty-seven dollars and ten cents,” the manager said, wording just like the cashier.

"I discovered that there were so many things to learn in a new country: culture, language, and even the local currency were all new concepts," Fang said.

I couldn’t understand what the problem was. Behind me, I could hear many people chatting, wondering what was taking us so long. Out of a hurry, the manager quickly ran to the back of the kitchen and slid across a giant chalkboard, largely carving the number “$27.10” in front of our faces. But I was sure I hadn’t misunderstood. I really did pay 27 dollars and 10 cents, so why wouldn’t they accept my money? Glancing over at the long line behind us, I couldn’t help but notice the agitated foot-tapping and the impatient stares directed at me. After some thought, I took out a 100-dollar bill from my wallet and handed it to the cashier, thinking that this would certainly be enough and there wouldn’t be any confusion. Surely, the cashier took the bill and gave me back the change, which must be $70.90. 

With all this change, we navigated through the area with a level of uncertainty, making our way to a table holding ten burgers. People stared at us, clearly confused by our presence, not just because we had mispaid, but also because of our brown eyes, heavy accents, and scramble of letters that were supposed to be English. All greatly contrasted from all the other New Zealanders there. Only after counting the change did I realize that New Zealand had one-cent coins, and I had given the wrong amount of money. I discovered that there were so many things to learn in a new country: culture, language, and even the local currency were all new concepts. I thought that maybe when I arrived in the United States, I would also face many things I didn’t understand and would need to continue learning. I will also need to know how to adapt to many embarrassing situations.