In an increasingly acrimonious campaign, former president Donald Trump has accused Vice President Kamala Harris of lying about her resume. He claims she never worked at McDonald鈥檚.
Comedians have had fun with this. Just because he hasn鈥檛 seen her behind the counter doesn鈥檛 mean she鈥檚 never been there. Besides, he probably uses the drive-thru. Or maybe he鈥檚 trying to trick his way into a free lunch. If you really worked at McDonald鈥檚, prove it. Make me six Big Macs.
I think the comedians are missing the point. This is deeper than an ordinary accusation of stolen valor.
I have a friend who is a very successful businessman. He has founded companies. He has negotiated deals. He has served as an outside director on the boards of major companies. But he doesn鈥檛 speak of those things. He does, however, talk about his days as a car-hop at Steak 鈥榥 Shake. He remembers those days fondly.
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For many of us, there are special memories attached to a first job. You are still living at home, but in a figurative sense, you have left the nest. You have become a little spoke in the Big Wheel.
I was a spoke at Chicken Unlimited. We had a catchy slogan: 鈥淒inner is always ready at Chicken Unlimited.鈥 One small restaurant on Halsted Street had quickly grown into locations all over the south side of Chicago.
We competed with the mighty Kentucky Fried Chicken. Colonel Sanders was Darth Vader. The empire鈥檚 slogan: 鈥淔inger-Licking Good.鈥
The man behind Unlimited was Charles Giragosian. His son, Charlie, was short and had red hair. He was known as the Red Ant, which was shortened to Rant. He was the most socially adept of my group. He could make small talk with girls, and he could dance.
I was not mindful enough to pay attention to my friends鈥 parents, but Rant鈥檚 dad was a man of intrigue. What made him think he could go up against KFC? People were not yet in the habit of going out to get their dinner. I remember when the first pizza shop opened near my house. 鈥淧izza Pie,鈥 a small neon sign declared. My mother thought it was nice the way the Italians could make fun of themselves. 鈥淲ould you like a pizza pie?鈥 鈥淵es, I鈥檒l have a small piece.鈥
I was already in high school when the first McDonald鈥檚 opened in the neighborhood. It was another challenge for my mother. We were White Castle people, but mom was open to change. She would try the new place. She ordered as if she were at White Castle. Two hamburgers each for her and my sister, one for my grandmother, four for me, and five for my father. Something like that.
The cost was a little steep. Fifteen cents for a burger as opposed to twelve cents at White Castle. It wasn鈥檛 the price that surprised my mom. It was the size of the burgers and the buns. They were huge. She had over-ordered.
I had a couple of friends who worked at that McDonald鈥檚. It was a prestigious job. Young people hung out in the parking lot. My Chicken Unlimited didn鈥檛 have a parking lot. We were a storefront operation.
Still, I have fond memories of that job. Unlike at McDonald鈥檚, which seemed like assembly-line work, a CU employee did it all. We soaked the chicken in marinade. We breaded it. We fried it. We worked the counter.
Of course, it could be that my fond memories 鈥 and those of my friend 鈥 are as much about the era as the jobs. It was a wonderful time. We didn鈥檛 know enough to worry about things. We lived within lead-painted walls and amid clouds of second-hand smoke. Nobody had heard of climate change. In fact, had there been a referendum on nudging the temperature up a couple of degrees every now and then, it would have passed easily.
Trump is the nostalgia candidate. He promises a return to a care-free past. What a sneaky way for Harris to make inroads. She talks about McDonald鈥檚, and I think of Chicken Unlimited and my friend thinks of Steak 鈥榥 Shake. It鈥檚 a connection.
But it is the McDonald鈥檚 pedigree that makes this really special. Do you know how many former McDonald鈥檚 employees are out there? Hundreds of thousands. Millions. In a close election, they could be the difference.
I have not seen any studies, but Harris would likely be the first McDonald鈥檚 grad to make it to the White House. She might be the first former fast-food worker.
As impressive as a McDonald鈥檚 gig is on a resume, I am more interested in tips. As in, have you ever worked for tips?
Tipping is a touchy subject these days. Many people are sick of tipping. You try to pay for something that should not require a tip and you鈥檙e confronted with a payment device that almost demands one.
Still, there is value to being a legitimate tip worker 鈥 a cab driver, a bartender, a waitress.
You learn to not judge people by their appearance. People who look like money might not be generous tippers. People who look scruffy might be generous. You just don鈥檛 know.
A friend of mine has plenty of money, but no wife, no kids. His expenses are low. He has reached a stage in life where he understands he is probably going to finish his journey alone, but with money. That鈥檚 comforting.
He has started leaving $100 tips.
Not every time. But the does it on a fairly regular basis. He鈥檒l get a cup of coffee and put a $100 bill in the tip jar. He recently tipped the pizza delivery guy $100.
I am just guessing, but I bet if any of the recipients of those $100 bills ever reach affluence, they will pass it on. People who work for tips tend to be good tippers themselves. Working for tips breeds a certain generosity of spirit.
Sadly, voters don鈥檛 seem to value a history of working for tips. Claire McCaskill waitressed her way through the University of Missouri and she lost to Josh Hawley, a banker鈥檚 kid who went to Stanford.
Maybe a fast-food history will have more resonance with voters. Harris is counting on it. Trump is concerned about it.
By the way, in 1976.