Fast Food Nation

April 20, 2013

I know McDonald's is bad for you. It’s bad for our health, for the agricultural industry, the global food market, the environment, the economy, and for a whole host of other things; but there is something magical about McDonald's to me. It is a place of good childhood memories –— getting lost in the ball pit with my brother, special lunches with my babysitter, Vicky, after speech therapy, and lunch leave in high school with my friends. Also, I am fascinated with how the company grew from nothing to something, to more than a restaurant, to a monopoly — first across the nation and then across the world. Rather impressive if you don’t think about it too hard.

That doesn't mean I agree with their methods; just that I enjoy going to McDonald's every now and then. There's nothing wrong with that, right? Well, there probably is, but I try not to think about it.

Capitalist, franchised, consumerist, factory-farmed, epidemically obese. What is happening to our world? After I watched the Super Size Me documentary, I actually wanted some McDonald's, which I agree is completely despicable on my part. But I don't eat their chicken nuggets. I draw the line at that menu item. Thirty-six ingredients and one of them is a component in butane (The Omnivore’s Dilemma). Gross. Also, the portions have gotten out of control over the years. They are too large. But they are still cheap. That's always a plus. I am not complaining about the cost. The cost to society, however, is an entirely different conversation. But I won’t get into that now.

I went to McDonald's today. It might have been the first time all year. I cannot tell you for sure, though. I have driven by this particular one on Aloma Avenue many times, but had never actually pulled into the parking lot until today. I went through the drive-thru and a curious thing happened: there was no intercom speaker and display screen outside. There was the yellow height clearance bar and the backlit, colorful menu boards, but no way to order. I paused briefly, selected my purchase, and then tried to find a secret box — hidden in the overgrown bushes perhaps. After a moment, I gave up and pulled around to the window. But the first window was closed. I continued to the second.

"Hi, how are you this evening?" the cashier greeted me.

"Hi. Good. How are you?" I asked.

"Great. What can I get you today?"

"Is this where I order?" I asked.

"Yes, it is," he said.

"Okay, cool. Old school," I said.

"Are you saying I'm not pretty enough to be in the window?" he said.

"No, not at all. It's just a bit confusing,” I said, laughing, “I don't remember what number it is, but it's the bacon cheeseburger Angus one."

"Yes, the Angus cheese and bacon burger. Number thirteen,” he said.

"Yes, thirteen. I'd like that one please," I said.

"Medium?" he asked.

"Yes," I said.

"What to drink?" he asked.

"Iced tea," I said.

"Sweet?” he asked.

"Yes, sir," I said.

"Is that all?" he asked.

"Yes,” I said.

"Are you in school?" he asked.

"Yes, sir," I said.

"Where?" he asked.

"Rollins College," I said.

"What are you learning?” he asked and then added, “If you don't mind me asking?"

"No, not at all. English literature," I said.

"I'm getting my bachelor's in criminal justice now," he said.

"Oh, really? That's great," I said.

"Yes. I was in the military for twenty-two years. I got my AA while I was serving. In Germany, actually. And then they gave me $50,000, so I figured I'd use it for school," he said.

"What a great idea! That's the best way to use it," I said.

"Well, you have a good evening," he said.

"You, too. Good luck with your studies," I said, smiling.

"Thank you. Same to you," he said, smiling back.

An interesting-looking fellow with a silver tri-band wedding ring, he appeared to be anywhere between forty-five and fifty-five. His name was Jeff. He was very nice, perhaps overly sharing of his personal life, but friendly nonetheless. It wasn't busy at seven o'clock on a Saturday night, and I was in a social mood, so it was good. It was nice even, to have a small chat with someone who normally wouldn’t share much of anything with you other than your total. Jeff was old school. I don't think I would have had the chat if there had been an intercom speaker outside. Funny how today’s progress and technology sometimes separate us more than they bring us together, hindering more than they help.