One of the hardest jobs on the planet? Equipment manager for the New England Patriots. Not the coach or quarterback. Not the owner. The ballboy. Feel free at this moment to make the necessary snickers that accompany that particular epithet. I will continue by pointing our just how despicable it is that things like this tend to gain momentum and roll downhill. But not always.
The Chief Executive Officer of McDonald's is resigning. The Capo de Burger, Don Thompson, is vacating the big chair at the end of the table. Why would anyone want to leave what must be one of the cushiest positions in the world? Well, how about employee protests? No longer simply content to have the name tag and the recipe to Special Sauce, workers want a little bit of gold for their efforts under the arches. Apparently working the closing shift for less than ten dollars an hour is no longer as appealing as it might once have been. Civil rights issues? Sexism? Lawsuits?
It would be a relief for Mayor McCheese if these were the only issues. How about declining profits on top of that? Declining to the tune of half a billion dollars. With billions and billions served, one wonders how the market share of this monolith of American business couldn't withstand a little cut into the bottom line. Apparently, half a billion dollars is not considered "a little" anything. That's thirty percent of their gross profit. And if you've ever seen a McRib sandwich, I think you understand "gross profit." Circumstances such as a potato shortage that caused french fry rationing in Japan or the recall of a million Chicken McNuggets aren't necessarily Mister Thompson's fault. It could be that the planet may finally be evolving past McFood.
My own love affair with Ray Kroc's empire has waned over the past decade or two. I am no longer drawn to the land of Happy Meals and Big Macs. Some of my formative moments as a fast food consumer took place bathed in the warm glow of those fluorescent lights. These days, I find myself drawn to a list of ingredients that I can list on one hand, and a burger that will fill me without having to go back for seconds. If you need someone to blame, point your greasy spatula at me. Or Smashburger.