04
Apr
11

RONALD MCDONALD LOVES YOU

I understand that in purely economic terms job growth is job growth. As long as people are working, and spending money, I guess it really doesn’t matter if people are pushing pencils or flipping burgers. Economic theory allows no room for measuring the human element. For example there is no formula to indicate at which point having a certain job long enough would drive you to commit ritual suicide.

Take working at fast food places. Most of us have done it at some point in our lives. And when your parents are finally fed up with your unemployed, college-educated ass being back at home and they say “Hey, McDonald’s is always hiring” you can at least know it’s for real. Like crazy real.

“McDonald’s said Monday that it is planning a one-day hiring spree of 50,000 new workers on April 19 for its U.S. restaurants. McDonald’s said that these new “Mcjobs” will include crew and management positions, part-time and full-time. McDonald’s, which has 14,000 restaurants in the United States, said the hires will occur nationwide.

“We’re excited to offer 50,000 new jobs, all across America, all in one day,” said Jan Fields, president of McDonald’s U.S.A. Fields, who started working at a McDonald’s restaurant as a crew member behind the counter in 1978, said the 50,000 new hires will increase the U.S. workforce to 700,000 from its current level of 650,000.” – CNN MONEY

I suppose I can’t get too cynical. At least people are working somewhere. But, this is a long way from the bullshit they taught me as a child. You know, that I could grow up to be anything I wanted. I don’t remember anyone ever saying they wanted to manage a goddamn McDonald’s. I remember I always said I wanted to be a dictator or a terrorist. Yeah, I was that kid.

I guess it wouldn’t be so bad if they didn’t have to go the extra step and call it a fucking “Mcjob”. Or make you dress like a member of some corporate SS detachment. Or rob you of all your dignity. Or keep you dangling at the edge of an economic leash. Or kill your pets.

Okay, the pet thing I made up. But take one look at that picture and tell me you wouldn’t lie to save your life. It looks like something I might see right before I wake up screaming in my therapist’s office after a hypnotic session, finally understanding why clowns give me an erection but make me cry at the same time.

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