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MR. SHOY IS NOT what one would call a radical man. Quiet, industrious and unyieldingly easygoing, he joined the fast-food movement only after watching himself and his family descend from what seemed like a once-secure position in the middle class.

In 2008, when he was 53, Mr. Shoy lost his job driving forklifts at a warehouse on Long Island owned by the Waldbaum’s grocery-store chain. His salary at the job, which he had had for more than 20 years, was $22 an hour, and came with overtime and benefits, he said. His wife, Elana, worked as a waitress until three years ago, when she tore a ligament in her knee and had to quit. In 2003, before any of that had happened, the couple bought a house for more than $500,000 — a comfortable three-bedroom on a quiet street in Middle Village, Queens.

Now the house is almost empty, devoid of furniture except for a couch, a table and the bed wedged between them in the basement, where Mr. Shoy sleeps these days, alone. Two months ago, his wife and children — Eduardo Jr., 22, and Leslie, 19 — moved to Pennsylvania, where Leslie plans to enter college next year (with the help of financial aid) and where Eduardo Jr. works in a warehouse for Amazon.com. Mr. Shoy has remained behind, doing what he calls “the bachelor thing — working,” until he manages to sell the house that he can no longer afford.

“I thought I’d spend my life here,” he said the other day, standing in the vacancy that used to be his living room. “The way I had it planned, I’d be retired by now: full pension, Social Security. But things turned out a little different in the end. You do the best you can.”

Working more than 70 hours a week between his two jobs, Mr. Shoy makes a quasi-livable income: about $43,000 a year. But out of that, he has to pay his mortgage, his utilities, his car lease, his car insurance premiums and his children’s car insurance premiums, and then write a check each month to help them with their rent.

“Whatever comes first, I pay first,” he said.

Just two weeks ago, in an effort to accentuate the challenges of fast-food jobs, labor-union organizers published several screen grabs taken off a McDonald’s corporate website, McResourceline.com. The site, which is now unavailable, was designed to offer financial tips to a cash-poor work force. Despite its good intentions, it read like a Dickensian satire, counseling employees to break their meals into pieces (which “results in eating less and still feeling full”); to take two vacations a year (“can cut heart attack risk by 50%”); and to sell “unwanted possessions on eBay or Craigslist” for extra income.

In a statement, McDonald’s said, “This is an attempt by an outside organization to undermine a well-intended employee-assistance website by taking isolated portions out of context.”