After waiting approximately six hours in front of the butcher?s, the meat van would eventually come. I was with my three and a half-year-old son. I could hardly convince him to be patient. I kept him close to me in the throng of people who were pushing the others to get to the counter more quickly. The last bag was rightfully mine, but, while I was counting the money and observing the child, a ? good comrade ? from behind me pulled the bag, paid quickly and left. The baby started to cry because I had not kept my promise. Everything was deprived of logic for him. Was there anything more to comment? Later on, I got some meat from the snack bar at the Writers? Union. (A. B., 124)

It was a holiday day. My husband was enlisted in the army. I had to obtain the meat for my family. In the morning, I queued, together with my five-year-old and two-year-old sons. (The queue was formed since three o?clock in the morning, when the old persons came with their tools), I was hoping to get some meat. I promised my boys that if they behaved I would make schnitzels for them. They did have patience, but, by noon, they were hungry and sleepy?I bought some bread bars for them and we deceived ourselves that the van would arrive soon with the long wished for meat. I did not feel like leaving, I had a rather good place at the beginning of the queue. I thought so? The van arrived indeed, but it was around 4 p.m. All the old ladies at the beginning of the queue brought their children, grandchildren and neighbors. My place was now about at the middle of the queue. There were still hopes, though. Apparently they unloaded a big quantity, and I hoped I could get a packet at least. The children had lost their patience. I was also exhausted after ten hours of waiting in the heat, hungry and thirsty. I was drawing near the counter very slowly. Suddenly, I could not see my boys. I asked the persons behind me to keep my place in the line me, and I went to look for my boys, I was afraid that they might go in the street and a car might hit them. An old man answers cynically to the words expressing my fears: ?Big deal if they get hit.? I could not stand such a remark and I burst: ?The car should hit you, because you have lived your life.? At about 6 p.m., I finally managed to get a piece of meat with bones and fat. I was dead tired, but happy though, because I had something to feed the boys with. But what about tomorrow? Will I start all over again? (A. B., 38)