The Trainee

Frank Wainwright served as McDonalds’ night manager, having attained his status after nearly two years in the fry pit where he earned the reputation as an unflappable flipper who unceasingly delivered product during the lunch and dinner rush.   

As a manager, he wore a white shirt and tie along with a cheerful countenance when facing the public that morphed into a scowl when turned round to chastise his crew.   One of the workers reflected the sentiment of many when he quoted the slave Jim from Huckleberry Finn:  “I know’d him by de back.”

This Jekyll and Hyde persona reflected the current state of the young man’s toils.  When in high school, he was known as Waino, a cheerful, hard-working guy, popular with his peers.  He attended junior college, and hoped to save enough money while working at McDonalds to pay for tuition at the University.  But all that changed when he became a surprised father at age 19.  His insistent teen-aged bride bore a colicky baby who resumed wailing when her teeth emerged.     

So Frank’s life trek continued on an unanticipated course, the change altering his once genial personality.   His promotion to night manager at age 22 increased his pay so he could now afford a two-bedroom apartment, and the monthly payments for an upgrade to a pre-owned SUV.   But the long hours in the burger business wore him down. 

Constant employee turnover and the never-ending parade of customers who grew impatient when food service lagged filled him with angst.  Frank felt trapped at a place where he spend most of his waking hours walking the restaurant’s floor with its microscopic layer of grease that could never be completely removed on which he seemed to be constantly slipping.  

The bottlenecks in production that slowed customer’s orders generally occurred at the grill located behind the service counter to the rear of the restaurant.    The public only saw the bobbing heads of the burger flippers who went about their robotic pacing that ebbed and flowed with the pace of the incoming crowd. Their supervisor orchestrated burger movement, cracking the whip to increase production, tugging the reins on slowdowns. 

During the dinner and lunch rush, McDonalds doubled down on flippers.  Their rapid frying technique involved laying out a row of uncooked patties next to a neighboring row of half-cooked burgers with their finished brown sides up as the bottom sides sizzled.  By the time the new row of burgers was laid, the neighboring side was finished, and an elongated flipper gathered up the 100% pure beef patties two at a time, and transferred them to the bun toaster station.  Then flip the other row and lay down a new line of burgers.  Reflexive rhythm kept it humming.

Another crew member manned the bun toaster, loading buns on a handled tray that slid into the mouth of the toaster that buzzed and kicked off the heat at the allotted time.  The lightly browned buns were removed and placed in the work area for their burger marriage. The bunner grabbed the mustard/ketchup gun that squirted its three-dot mixture of condiment, added two pickles and finely diced onions. He then added a slice of American cheese to half the beef sandwiches, and crowned with the top bun.  The crew wrapped cheeseburgers in yellow paper; regular in blue, and placed them on a shelf above the grill for counter workers filling their orders.

The Big Mac followed a similar pattern, which per the old commercial jingle, consisted of two all beef patties, special sauce, lettuce, cheese, pickles, onions, on a sesame seed bun.   Filet of Fish only garnered a nibble except when hungry schools of Catholics swarmed in on Fridays during Lent before they learned to profitably deep-fry their own fish.

A separate employee assigned to the deep fryer immersed frozen sliced potatoes—each bag calibrated to fit within the wired rectangle metal basket—into a pool of red-hot grease.  A buzzer signaled completion, the finished fries lifted, dumped, salted, boxed and placed under a heat lamp awaiting a bag drop as part of an overall order.  

Another employee worked the fountains with different sodas poured into cups, plastic lids affixed with a five-dimpled lid atop; the appropriate dimple depressed to designate coke, diet coke, orangeade, seven-up or Dr. Pepper. 

The shakes, a conglomerate of sweetened vanilla, chocolate or strawberry that defied a straw’s suction, were dispensed into a cup like molasses in January.  The exact consist remained an unguarded secret since no one wanted to know, but the caloric output combined with burgers and fries helped Americans become true consumer heavyweights. 

The whole process started by the McDonald brothers, and perfected by Ray Kroc, ran like clockwork.  The only recurring problem involved constant employee turnover, which took up an important part of a manager’s job: finding new help.

Frank Wainwright hired a new employee who was working an unrelated part-time summer job in the morning, and sought added income by working the evening shift.  Richie Woods was just the kind of employee the night manager was loath to hire.  Woods would be leaving for college in a couple of months, and worked for what Frank derisively called party money, which differed from his income garnered for family subsistence.

On his first day of work, Richie was given a retro paper diner hat akin to the 1950’s soda jerk hats that consisted of sturdy crepe paper with an adjustable design that fit any head, and crowned with durable tissue paper.  The soda jerk hats served as a hair covering and—like nearly everything else in McDonalds—conveniently disposable.  

The soda jerk hats also doubled as a ranking designation within the crew:  blue for the established crew and red for the crew chief.  Rookies were given white soda jerk hats that bore large black letters in all caps: TRAINEE.  

Presumably, corporate thought that such public appellation for rookies—like a sign on a car that read ‘student driver’—might give irritated customers patience when they saw a trainee performing at his fumbling best to get the burgers out.   Woods found the hat amusing, but to avoid teen age razzing he stuck the hat in his pocket when he went outside to pick up trash in the parking lot.  He accepted that there was a learning curve for an aspiring burger flipper, but he knew how to pick up trash before McDonalds hired him. 

Entry pay stood five cents per hour above minimum wage.  The government was not going to tell McDonalds what to pay its employees.  Yet, that extra stipend failed to retain loyal employees.

Corporate McDonalds hired MBA’s who employed their schoolbook knowledge in an attempt to boost employee morale when the extra five-cents per hour proved unavailing.   A recent MBA graduate gave Mickey Dee Corporate an idea:  A contest whereby McDonalds’ local restaurants would select employees to be tested under pressure to determine who was the fastest, most efficient burger flipper, bun toaster, deep fry French Fryer, beverage fountaineer and counter worker.  Store winners would receive a Ronald McDonald wristwatch, and an opportunity to compete metropolitan-wide for a two-day, all expenses paid trip to Disneyworld

Timers and tabulators objectively recorded production rates for all competitors except the counter workers whom back then were all female due to their superior multi-tasking skills.   But they could only be judged subjectively on their courtesy and efficiency when taking and completing orders.  Thus, the naming of the victorious counter worker fostered the losers’ whispering campaign about the winner’s fidelity.  Such the price for fame and glory.

The big day of the competition arrived when corporate minions arrived with clipboards and stopwatches.  The actual testing would only run for an hour during the dinner rush, with each of the groupings given individual 15-minute time trials.  Richie was assigned to work that date to fill in for the all-star cast vying for honors, some of whom started work earlier in the day, and would be dismissed after the contest so as avoid being paid for overtime. 

It irked Frank when he espied Richie clocking in for work scheduled for his usual 5:00 to close shift.  The contest began at 5:15, and the rookie would be in the way of the pros.  It pained him to see a worker paid though not working, but Frank had no choice but to tell Richie to wait in customer seating until the contest was completed. 

As it sometimes happens in the restaurant business, this particular evening proved randomly slow.  But the show must go on, so the burger flipping and bun toasting proceeded as if the dinner rush charged forward in full gear allowing for timed production under pressure.  With the competition completed, Richie’s first assignment for the evening involved dragging a large plastic trash can full of wrapped burgers back to the dumpster.   

The new trainee began his employment as a bun toaster, and then continued his education as a burger flipper.  Co-workers liked the newcomer despite or perhaps because of his steady stream of bad jokes that helped ease the job’s tedium.

“Hey folks, what did Tarzan say to the heavy equipment operator at the construction site in Kiev?”  After a pregnant pause, Richie delivered the punch line himself, voiced in a mangled jungle accent:  “Me Tarzan.  You Crane.” 

He followed with another.  “What did Tarzan say when he ran into the felon on the lam in Canada’s northwestern wilderness.  No one? Me Tarzan. You Con.”

Frank found no humor in such jokes, and his agitation increased when the rookie flipped another, creating a momentary pause in burger production.

“What did Tarzan say to the castrated Santa Claus?” 

“All right, enough clowning Ronald McDonald.  Get on with your work, Woods,” growled the night manager. 

Richie ignored his boss when one of the crew shouted out: “What did Tarzan say?”

 “Me Tarzan.  You Nick.”   

Frank took the joke personally as if Richie had called him a eunuch.  It did not help that others on the crew laughed, which inflamed the manager’s ire.  Just then, a commotion stirred at the front counter that saved Richie from a tongue-lashing.  But Manager Wainwright did not forget, and filed the incident in his mental reprisal folder for future reference.

It was a right of passage in McDonald’s world for a rookie to eventually shed the white Trainee soda jerk hat and crowned with the coveted blue hat.   After a couple of weeks on the job, Chris ‘Cookie’ Conway, a red-hatted crew chief told Richie that he could now wear a regular blue hat.   Richie suspected that he might not be quite ready for the ‘promotion’, but was glad to shed the dorky trainee hat.  He wondered if the crew chief sought to curry favor as Cookie favored Richie’s cousin who worked the front counter.   

An attractive blonde with a contagious smile, cousin Janette caught the eyes of all the boys on the crew, her movements followed like a tumbleweed in the desert.  One of the burger flippers nicknamed Rube expressed shock that Richie could be related to Janette, and asked him if they were really cousins.  When Richie affirmed, the yokel marveled and said:  “Wow, you’re lucky!”  Richie looked quizzically over at Cookie who shook his head and said: “We’re not in the backwoods, Rube.  That kind of connection is illegal and frowned upon here.”

Frank was off on the day Richie earned his promotion, and unaware of the soda jerk hat swap.  Two days later, their respective shifts corresponded.   On that fateful day, the night manager came to work after a knockdown, drag out with his young bride.  He was itching for release. 

Richie’s post at the grill provided fodder when he lagged on the grill and struggled to maintain a shaky equilibrium with the middling crowd that entered the restaurant.  The customer line at the counter moved, but not quickly enough to satisfy the man in charge who went searching for the bottleneck.

The manager ambled back around to the fry grill like a drill sergeant inspecting the troops, and did not like what he saw, beginning with Richie’s hair, which certainly was not hippie long, but extended down to cover his ears just short of the lobe.  

Too long for Frank’s liking. 

“Woods, you need a haircut.  You’d better get a trim before you come in here to work on your next shift.”

He then glanced down at his flipper’s old, battle-worn Converse low tops that were scuffed and tattered, and looked like a dog chewed on them more than once.   

“Woods, you can’t wear shoes like these to work,” he groused with an edge to his voice.   “Don’t come back here wearing those shoes again!”

Richie Woods found these demands bizarre, especially since he worked in a grease pit, and his feet were out of view from the customers’ visage, and his hair was shorter than some others on the crew.

The shift continued, the line of restless customers growing longer, the manager’s patience growing shorter for his neophyte burger flipper who struggled to increase production to meet demand.  Something seemed askew to the evening shift boss when it suddenly occurred to him when he finally noticed the blue hat. 

Frank paused a moment to ponder his move to best savor the moment, then asked in a forced, pleasant voice:  “Woods, where’s your Trainee hat? Who said you could wear a blue hat?’ 

Richie was nonplused as he looked up to see his boss staring at him with a sudden look of contentment.  “Cookie said I could wear it, Frank.”  

Frank tried to hold back his glee, but a small smile creased his face.  “Only a manager can say when a rookie can discard his Trainee hat, and wear a blue hat.  Go down stairs and get a Trainee hat on.”

The cowed rookie turned tail and headed down the back stairway to the restaurant basement.   The basement served as the stockroom where McDonalds kept it large walk in freezer filled with beef patties, frozen pre-cut potatoes and shake mixes.  Shelves stood next to the freezer stacked high with buns; soda canisters; and sundry paper products and packaging.   A large laundry basket stood in the corner for discarded soiled uniform tops and aprons. 

Richie Woods looked about the place gathering his thoughts as he tossed his blue hat in the trashcan, and picked out a white soda jerk cap with the large black letters in all caps, TRAINEE.  He tossed his soiled apron in the dirty clothes bin, and went back upstairs.

Frank was busy helping counter workers complete customer orders as he kept one eye on the back awaiting the rookie’s return to the grill wearing the white trainee soda jerk hat.  Instead, he sighted a hatless Richie standing at the time clock punching out his time card.  The night shift manager called out:

“Woods, watta you think you’re doing!?!”

“See ‘ya later, Frank.  I quit.”

Frank cried out in exasperation.   “You can’t do that!”

“I just did.” 

Well, you need to fill out paperwork explaining why you quit, or you won’t be paid!”

Woods replied, “We’ll see about that,” and walked out the door.

Frank found himself working the grill that evening.   He left his post briefly to use the facilities and upon return, looked about and saw his entire crew wearing white TRAINEE soda jerk hats.  He could not fire them all, so he pretended to take it as a joke.  Two weeks later, Frank Wainwright filled out the required McDonalds’ employee form explaining why he resigned, upon which he wrote that he left his employment due to inadequate support from upper management.  

In reality, Frank Wainwright found a new job at an entry-level position at United Parcel Service.  The incident at McDonalds provided impetus to find a new job.

When he left McDonalds, he took a white Trainee soda jerk hat with him, and kept it laying flat in a sock drawer where he would see it every morning.

Frank eventually worked his way into management at UPS where he was known to have the backs of his employees.   In short, he was a workers’ boss, not a boss of workers.

Richard Woods went on to college and spent his working career in corporate America.   He endured many bad bosses while earning his livelihood, but found that higher pay and family responsibilities made it prohibitive to quit.  So he learned to endure them.   But along the way, he took solace in knowing that at least once in his lifetime he experienced the thrill and satisfaction of walking out and telling an overbearing boss:   “I quit!”