Someone once said that everyone should work in food service for a year. I don't know exactly why that someone made that pronouncement, but there's truth there. Why? What does working in food service do for a person? Gives you insight into the human condition: greed, jealousy, fear, kindness, evil, sadness, joy, meanness. You can see it all in one day if you work at least an hour. Some hyperbole there - probably won't catch all of those states if you only work the hour prior to opening or after close. Ok, still some hyperbole, but man, do you see a lot when you work in food service.
I attended a professional conference last week during which the presenter asked if any of us had ever had "McJobs." I hadn't heard that term before. I had, however, worked at McDonald's for two and a half years. Add in two seasons at a food stand at the Iowa State Fair and about six months at Hardees, and I have done my time in food service. Still, I had not heard the term "McJob." A quick glance at Wikipedia tells me that "McJob (sometimes called joe job) is slang for a low-paying, low-prestige dead-end job that requires few skills and offers very little chance of intracompany advancement."
I am not going to say that I enjoyed working under the golden arches (or at any other of the above-mentioned places), but I am going to say that as a teenager in the 80s, I felt like I was paid okay; I made friends; and I wasn't looking for advancement. I was looking for some money to go to the movies or buy ugly earrings and stone-washed jeans. It wasn't fun. Well, it was fun the one time we had a rat the size of a small terrier run through the mall store. It was also fun the time I scared my friend Kathy when she thought she was alone breaking down the shake machine, and she almost wet herself. That was fun. I never considered myself degraded by working there. I had to be on time, cheerful, follow a script of service, but there are standards in every job. Standards don't degrade people - they require a mode of behavior that hopefully one will learn from and rise above.
I learned how to serve food to all sorts of people, with a smile, and quickly. I learned the ins and outs of keeping things clean, of staying busy (or looking busy). I learned that there are people in the world who will buy and freeze McDonald's hamburgers and reheat them at home. I learned that you don't mop the owner's shoes and tell him "Out of the way, Big Daddy," when he's in a foul mood. I learned that you do, in fact, refill the lady's fries when she complains the packet isn't full even though you watched her eat nearly all of them and then come back up to the window. I don't believe my self-esteem was brought down because of working in fast food. At the time, I made friends of varying ages and varying interests; almost thirty years later, some of them are professionals, some of them are clergy, and one is a truck driver.
Of course, upon reading further in Wikipedia, this term is being applied to adult individuals who are working in such jobs now. The term "McJob" is even in the Oxford English Dictionary (OED), and there has been controversy surrounding it. McDonald's employees were asked to sign a petition asking OED to remove the word. Many of those employees felt that the term was so accurate that they refused to sign. Is it demeaning to those who work in fast food or restaurant settings? Does McDonald's treat entry-level employees badly? Is there little chance for advancement in that company? Well, I don't know how it is now; I have only my own now outdated experience to go on. But, I can tell you my what happened in the drive-through yesterday at McDonald's.
I was welcomed by the sound of the microphone clicking on. A pause. Then, a terse, "Well?" I placed a small, unspecific order, to wit: a cheeseburger and a small diet Coke. I was told the total and the microphone clicked off. I pulled around (there wasn't anyone in front of me, so I had no wait time), and was greeted by a sign that read, "Thank you for having your payment ready." It wasn't. But, I fished out the two dollars and change and paid. No words were exchanged between the cashier and me. I smiled and pulled forward, having now resolved not to speak first but to see if the food delivery window person would speak. She handed me my Coke and turned her back on me, resting her butt on the edge of the drive-through window. She chatted with a co-worker as I waited. I should have had my payment ready within two seconds, but I was now to wait with a rear-view for company. The wait was short, perhaps two minutes total. She handed me the little bag with my cheeseburger, and I was off. No words. No thank yous. No have a nice days. No come agains.
I do realize that working part-time as a teen is different than full-time as an adult. I do not want to go down Back-In-My-Day Lane; however, it seems to me that no matter what one's job, one can "mcjob" it if one wants to. One can refuse common courtesy; one can demand speedy payment and provide unspeedy service; one can put one's rear-end on the windowsill of any job. In each job I have had - from newspaper route to McDonald's to classroom teaching - I have learned skills and been able to apply them in the next job. Regardless of the actual setting, McJobs might be many fewer if employees take their rear-ends off the drive-through windows and get to work. And, that might even apply to our lawmakers right about now.
