Life in the fast lane

Our correspondent gets behind the counter of a fast food chain and learns how to smile through the chaos
Life can be very demanding. This realisation dawned upon me quickly as I grappled to fill the sizeable shoes of a crewmember in the kitchen and counter of a frantically busy Mcdonald’s restaurant. As a general yardstick, the time spent in making, wrapping and placing an eatable in the tray of the customer who is restlessly waiting at the counter is much less than the time he would spend in eating it. At rush hours, the restaurant (with an average of six counters) might be expected to successfully execute as many as 750 orders per hour.

The standardization of products and consistency in their taste is facilitated by a remarkable symbiosis between the man and the machine.
For example, a “sauce gun” ensures that its one shot delivers exactly the same quantity (2/3 fluid ounce) of mayonnaise on every quarter poundal bun. But it is the highly meticulous and unerring eye of a “Production Caller” who provides for that freshness by ensuring that no eatable on the delivery bin of the counter is there for more than a maximum of ten minutes.
Uncomfortably numbed by the sheer quantum of hectic activity around, I tried to remain inconspicuous. However, when the restaurant manager remarked sternly, “This is not a place for idlers. We know you are useless in the kitchen, so why don’t you make yourself useful at the counter.” I changed into a striped green Chinese collared shirt, black pant and a cap to prevent my unkempt hair from falling in the meal, and hoped that the outfit change would suffice as a confidence boost. A trembling “your order, sir!” met with a reply. “Two large softies, two large Cokes and two aloo tikki burgers. Fast.”  The onerous part of keying the order in a computer screen with multi-coloured boxes and tendering the right amount was taken care of by a cordial ‘colleague’ who understood the predicament of a ‘first-time’ employee.  

The customer, however, wasn’t aware of the ephemeral nature of my job and the delay in execution of the order made him smirk—“Is it a training school and we guinea pigs?” My attempt at a seemingly easy task of getting a vanilla ice cream into a cone from the machine was a disaster that could hardly be called a softie. Having seen my clumsiness, the “Drink Drawer” at the duty on the Coke machine didn’t want to risk any further embarrassment. As he efficiently poured sparkling fizzy cold drink in the large plastic glasses, he explained why the cold drinks at Mcdonalds always taste that wee bit fresher. “We don’t buy readymade cold drink from Coca Cola. Instead we buy only syrup. The filtered water is carbonated separately and the two are mixed in this very machine, just as the customer places his order.”
The task of preparing the seeming innocuous French fries, meant that the sliced raw fries had to dipped in a pre-heated machine, in which oil gurgled like an inferno. “You require training,” came a passing remark. Surely adeptness at these processes presupposes training, which may last from two days to two weeks, depending upon the candidate and the nature of the duty. When the crew members are on training they interchange their duties as per roosters prepared by the restaurant manager. Those who show skill and commitment rise fast. The incumbent Global CEO of the company, Jim Skinner, is known to have started as a regular crew member. As my ordeal came to a close, the management was kind enough to give a certificate of experience. Surely, it was not bad for a behind-the-counter Mcjob!