McDonalds was one of the first corporate giants to infiltrate American communities with cheap hamburgers, fast food, employee training programs, marketing strategies, toys for the kids, drive up windows, extended operating hours. You can dine in any corporate or franchise store and get sameness.
McDonalds leapfrogged across the United States leaving stores wherever its arches touched ground. Their business formula is so profitable the company has planted its logo worldwide and a generation of kids choose Egg Mc’muffins over frosted flakes.
Now Mickey’s has a new employee – the Big Mac Kiosk.
Machines make great employees. They aren’t late, don’t do drugs, don’t have fights with their spouse, don’t steal, don’t need a health care plan.
How does a society survive when its people are replaced by computers?
The Big Mac Kiosk shows the State of the Union better than a President’s speech.
1 Comment
Charlie
on November 3, 2018 at 10:00 am
I hate the kiosks. Sharon and I encountered one in Maui, when we were looking for a dinner that wouldn’t cost us $50 (or more) at the tourist traps. I fiddled with the damnable machine for a few minutes, without results. Sharon, being more patient and more technologically advanced than her Luddite husband, solved the mysteries of the machine and we got our dinners. However, there were no views of the ocean, no girls in bikinis, no waiters asking if our dinners were delicious. The customers seemed satisfied though. One couple played a card game at their table and at another, small, quiet children were enjoying their night out with mom and dad. Instead of candles at our tables, our food was illuminated by harsh fluorescent lights, exposing all of our physical flaws. Still, the fact that the food was a lot cheaper than at the hotel we stayed at made the evening a success. Thank God our dinner wasn’t dependent on my skills navigating the kiosk. May it rot in Hell.
I hate the kiosks. Sharon and I encountered one in Maui, when we were looking for a dinner that wouldn’t cost us $50 (or more) at the tourist traps. I fiddled with the damnable machine for a few minutes, without results. Sharon, being more patient and more technologically advanced than her Luddite husband, solved the mysteries of the machine and we got our dinners. However, there were no views of the ocean, no girls in bikinis, no waiters asking if our dinners were delicious. The customers seemed satisfied though. One couple played a card game at their table and at another, small, quiet children were enjoying their night out with mom and dad. Instead of candles at our tables, our food was illuminated by harsh fluorescent lights, exposing all of our physical flaws. Still, the fact that the food was a lot cheaper than at the hotel we stayed at made the evening a success. Thank God our dinner wasn’t dependent on my skills navigating the kiosk. May it rot in Hell.