One of my favorite memories growing up involved a weekend tradition that pivoted around McDonald’s.

On Saturday afternoons my dad would take my older brother and I to the JCC in Commack NY, where he would work out for an hour or two. Adjacent to the gym were two full-size basketball courts. They were usually empty. As someone who wore an Allan Houston jersey multiple days of the week, I found myself in total paradise.

My brother and I would shoot around, play horse, or engage in one-on-one battles that forced me to develop a low post game. He was bigger and faster than me, but I realized I had an advantage in lower-body strength and Jokic-like hook shot creativity. I often made the games competitive but still lost every time.

We’d be properly exhausted when my dad returned from his workout, which I realized later was probably the whole point. We’d then engage in the annual ritual of “Fast Food Night.”

We’d drive to our fast food restaurant of choice and bring it back home for happy consumption. Sometimes we’d do pizza. There was a period of time where we were into KFC and Wendy’s. But for at least 75% of fast food nights, our choice was Mickey D’s.

To ensure the best possible experience, all three of us would typically eat most of the fries before we got home.

***

Growing up in the 90s, I viewed the existence of McDonalds the pinnacle of food and the ultimate representation of America. How amazing was it that you could have a cheeseburger and fries within minutes, that it would taste delicious, and was remarkably inexpensive? And that there was one in literally every town.

My home McDonald’s even had a famed play place, which legend has it I once got stuck in and my mom had to rescue me.

I was vaguely aware of how bad the food was for you—my mom would pretty much never eat it, although one time I remember her getting a McSalad Shaker—but I was a kid, and things like excessive calories and sodium seemed like problem that didn’t apply.

Once when I was probably about 7 or 8, I observed a high school-aged employee mopping up a mess. Exasperated, she looked at me and said point blank “never work here.” I thought she was crazy. Wasn’t McDonald’s the greatest place you could ever work?

As a teen, McDonald’s continued its mystical hold over my imagination and identity; this, despite having watched the documentary Supersize Me. There was one a short drive from my high school. Once I got my license, the dollar menu served as my primary means of sustenance outside of the home.

The fact that I could get a McChicken or a cheeseburger for only a dollar each was the epitome of the high life.

***

Since that time, the role of McDonald’s in my life has taken a sharp downturn; similar to what I imagine the stock market must be about to do once it is revealed the AI emperor isn’t fully clothed.

In my 20s I’d occasionally grab a McGriddle near my office when hungover. It was also a semi-frequent stop when I did weekends on the road during my standup career.

Until recently though, I hadn’t eaten it in years.

I guess this is growing up. But to me, McDonald’s has made some disappointing changes, visibly leaning into the who cares about intangibles if you can’t directly point to how it maximizes shareholder value ethos that rules so much of our world.

The replacement of the fry huts with the homogenized grey rectangles has to be among the worst unforced errors of all-time, and being essentially coerced to order from a kiosk when employees are right there feels like you’re signing a terms and conditions agreement to join the dystopia.

McDonald’s, at least in my non-research backed opinion, also hasn’t fully kept pace with the times and competition. Growing up in the northeast, I’d heard legends of storied establishments like Chick fil-A, In-N-Out, and Popeyes. But visiting them was never within the realm of possibility.

Now, thanks to global capitalism’s insistence on extracting value from every possible nook and cranny, I can get the fast food version of Louisiana chicken anytime I want; there is a Popeye’s less than 5 minutes from my house. And if I’m craving the best chicken sandwich in the land, I don’t have to travel all the way to Atlanta; there’s a Chick fil-A two towns over. The ubiquity of “healthier” fast food options like Chipotle have also added a level of optionality not previously available in my youth.

Finally—and this is not so much a McDonald’s problem as it is a me problem—is that I expect things to cost the same as they did in 2008. The fact that the dollar menu is gone is an insult to human progress, and the fact that a meal costs over $10 seems to defeat the entire purpose of the place. Why not just make some pasta?

***

All of this to say. We recently took our family to McDonald’s for Older Daughter’s very first Golden Arches experience.

She’s turning three at the end of the summer¹, so she was able to provide a somewhat coherent analysis on the experience. Here are the highlights and some toddler observations:

A. Thanks to everyone who weighed in on the “should we be active on Facebook?” poll from last week. The people of Millennial Dad Journal have spoken, and you have voted for me to “get over myself and build an audience.”

We’ll be posting at least once a week from there, so if you are active on the platform be sure to follow us on Facebook.

B. I found this post from Tim Ferris’ blog about the potential cause-and-effect relationship between AI and non-fiction book sales (particularly self-help non-fiction) very interesting, and actually somewhat encouraging. My takeaway is AI might help accentuate a clearer divide between nonsense, oft-regurgitated content vs. original and interesting writing.

C. I am working on launching a referral program, in which you’d get some cool stuff (if you care about that sort of thing) for referring subscribers. Might launch next week, might launch in like October. More to come.

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