I haven't been in many McDonalds, but this one seemed different. Classical music piped through the dining area, louder than typical ambient music, creating an atmosphere that was more like a Peet's Coffee than a McDonalds. It was evident that the music was setting the tone from the customers first step in the store. The employees were wearing blue oxford shirts, black slacks, and a small red scarf with tiny paisley like the accoutrament of an aristocrat in smoking jacket.
Yes, something was indeed different. Three inspirational posters hung on the wall with whimsical pictures of moutain tops and roads leading to the horizion with titles like "Success", "Innovation", and "Determination". On the other walls, black and white photos of Long Beach elite from the early 20th century hung in rememberance of the once prosperous oil fields in Long Beach. Most stunning was a mural covering an entire wall. It was reminicent of a Diego Rivera piece with proud, tall, American men, pulling themselves up by their own bootstraps with the image of an oil pump on the horizion.
A young man walked in the door wearing an untucked white button down shirt over baggy black slacks. He was carrying a folder with him, clearly for an interview with the two women behind me dressed in business attire with a laptop on the table and a McDonalds employment packet in plain sight. He kindly introduced himself and it was obvious to me that he was being as polite as possible even though first glances would probably stereotype him as a thug. For a man probably versed in "street", he spoke with the best grammer that he could and apoligized for being late.
"Yes, your very late."
"I aplogize for that."
She allowed him to give his story, but clearly wanted to tell him what he probably already knew.
"You have to be on time. No questions. I'm with somebody else right now, so have a seat and we'll see if we can squeeze you in."
She had established her ground. Now any future interview would be seen as gracious by this man. The man took a seat. The woman had not been with somebody else, except for her associate. Nobody else had come in before the man, an nobody had come in by the time that we had left and they beckoned the man to literally stand before them like a plaintiff behind the podium.
I couldn't help but think of how "corporate" this interview had seemed. I was amazed at how quickly she had to establish herself as the "decider" and be ruthless to this poor man, probably victim of the recession just like everybody else. I couldn't help but to think, "this is a McDonald's for God's sake!"
Through the glamor of the store, the bittersweet harmony of the working poor interlaced the classical music in the background. Today at McDonalds, somebody all but got on their knees for the same crappy job that begged to be seen as prestigious by the "lucky" few behind the counter. The same few that grinned and beared it when their co-worker/manager poked and proded them when it was clear that they were having a bad day. The same few that offered a kind a courteous smile and attitude to the prick in line who thought that he was at a five star establishment, and the same few that constantly wish for better circumstances.
How ironic that the interview was taking place out of sight from the counter; facing the murals, posters, and pictures; facing success and prominence. Around the corner, the stark reality of the working poor, and the unforgiving environment of a job where you can be replaced so easily by thousands of applicants willing to dress their best and agree to anything during a "gracious" interview.
Maybe troubling times strip us of our dignity. Like the man who was asked to wait to demonstrate a point and the co-worker who clenched her mouth shut. The individual who looses their job with benefits and joins the entry-level job force with a high school kid as their manager. The man in painters clothes that sits on the corner of the freeway exit, pacing. The man who reads Kellerman outside the Starbucks with his possessions in a shopping cart. The woman who carpools to the career center on her friends borrowed time in her friends borrowed car. The doctor who passes it all by in his Mercedes.
And the job developer who can't help but feel that his efforts are in vain...
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