My Experience at McDonald: when "Fast" Became Clear in my Mind

I never ate hamburgers prior to arrive in America. Now I don’t eat them very often, but sometimes I do. A couple years ago, I sought a job at McDonald's. They gave me a job as assistant manager. The salary wasn’t bad, and the store was close to my house. I accepted the job as if it was a “regular” job; only later, I realized that I was going to fulfill duties that clashed with my beliefs.

During the time I was at McDonald's, I found out a few things about myself and about the corporation. I understood that I am not a pushy person, and thus I am unable to tell people what to do and how to do a certain thing. I believe in advises, but suggestions weren’t what McDonald was looking for its employees. The company needed someone who could walk over the tired bodies of its minimum-wage employees. My job could have been decent if only my supervisors allowed me to act according to my ideals that, instead, seemed to be a big issue for them. That my thought was a problem for them came out when they decided to activate what, from then on, I called “human drive-thru.” They planned it like this: during peak time (about 11 am until 2 pm), McDonald's wanted two drive-thru lines. One was the “classic” drive-thru customers were already accustomed to, for the other one, an employee, in order to take as many orders as possible, had to wait for the consumers on the parking lot under the burning Florida’s sun.

McDonald's wanted another drive-thru line to increase the production, make more hamburgers in a certain time range. Only then I understood how important Time was for McDonald’s. Only then I understood why its food is “fast food.” If customers had to wait more than one and a half minute, the food wasn’t “fast food” anymore!

The term “fast” became one of my major concerns because the sandwich-makers (most of them underpaid Spanish women) had to run a doubled quantity of food within the same time frame they used working with only one drive-thru line. McDonald's planned two drive-thru, but the number of workers behind the counter didn’t increase.

Every served customer was a goal for the store, but it wasn’t for me. I didn’t care about time, but about those employees who sweated and puffed over the food incited by a fat-ass general manager. All the managers were excited at serving two customers every three minutes or less, but I wasn’t.

Although I believe that customers are always right and they should be served as fast as possible, at McDonald's, this model worsened. I just wanted to scream “Stop it! Stop those freaking drive thru lines and give water to these poor women!” But I didn’t say anything. I was sure the managers could not understand me. They all were concentrated on money and time. All mangers incited workers to improve the production.

At that point, in order to continue working at McDonald's, I had to change what I was and the way I was raised. Could a hamburger be worth much? I left McDonald's. I didn’t want to treat “my employees” like slaves only because I had to please a few hundred customers per day. My decision no to work for McDonald's maybe didn’t change the harsh working condition of those employees, but I, an immigrant, didn’t consent a mammoth American corporation to trap me in its web.