I walk into McDonald's with high expectations. It has thousands upon thousands of locations worldwide., and the sign proclaims 'billions and billions served.' They must be doing something right.
I wait in a small line and eye up the menu. The pictures certainly appear appetizing. They have conveniently sorted many of their presumably popular burgers into handy meals, and they have a super-size option, which fits in well with a philosophy I have always held: 'go big or go home.'
I decide to go with a two-cheeseburger meal. After all, isn't the cheeseburger the benchmark of any drive-in or fast food place?
I take a seat and dig in. The fries are cut terribly thin, presumably to make them cook faster. It has the effect of making them taste more like cardboard than deep-fried potatoes. Disappointing to say the least. I mean, fries are so easy to make, and make well. These are not tasty or well-made fries, they are an insult to my palate--and I don't mind telling you, that takes some doing.
I move on to the burgers. Apparently there have been billions of these served. As I unwrap the package, I can't begin to imagine why. What I see in front of me does not look appetizing. Moreover, this is the smallest cheeseburger I have ever seen. I bite in. Not, perhaps, as bad as I was prepared for. However, the burger has no crispness to it, no distinctive taste. It is, in fact, remarkably bland.
I reach for my Coke in an effort to wash the taste out of my mouth. As I take the first sip, something seems wrong. Then I pinpoint the problem: it's flat.
As I eat, my attention wanders to the decor. The seats are plastic and uncomfortable. For some reason I cannot fathom, there is a full-size plastic clown seated on a bench. I can only guess senior management realizes you need a sense of humor to eat here.
Out of desperate hunger I finish my meal. I leave feeling slightly bloated but mostly unsatisfied.