That made three people within earshot turn around.
“Roasted you how?” someone asked.
I tried to explain the burger. The passbook. The whole exchange.
At first they laughed.
Then I said the balance.
“Three hundred forty-two thousand,” I said.
The room went quiet in a way that felt… hungry.
Jenna’s eyebrows shot up.
“Your grandpa has three hundred forty-two thousand dollars?” she said.
“Yeah,” I said. “And he eats beans and hot dogs.”
Another coworker, Marcus, leaned back in his chair and snorted.
“Okay, but did he also buy a house for twelve dollars and a handshake?” he said.
A few people chuckled.
My face got hot, because I could already see where this was going.
Jenna pointed her straw at me.
“I’m just saying,” she said, “old people love to pretend it was all discipline. Like there weren’t pensions, cheap healthcare, affordable housing, and… you know… a world that didn’t charge you a fee to breathe.”
Someone else chimed in.
“And a job that didn’t make you answer emails at midnight,” another person said.
“And no subscription economy,” Marcus added. “Back then you bought a thing and it was yours. Now everything is rent.”