Category Archives: IL

What The Heck Is Going On With McDonald’s?

The following is my personal opinion.

I was a small child in the 1960s when McDonald’s opened a restaurant in my South Side Chicago neighborhood. As a kid, I was amazed by the concept of fast food. Clean, efficient, and in my child’s mind, delicious!

I was an adult when the River Road McDonald’s opened in my hometown of Naperville. Shining in its 1990s spender, I was once again amazed by the crew’s speed and accuracy. Rumor was that it served as a training site for McDonald’s corporate. By that point in my life, I was less impressed with the food. However, I was still sold on the core concepts of speed, reliability, consistency, and reasonable cost.

Fast forward to a few weeks ago. I am driving my family from Ohio back to Illinois. The kids are getting hungry, and so I pull off the expressway. A McDonald’s restaurant lies in our path. “How about McDonald’s?” I ask. Moans of displeasure erupt from the kids. They reluctantly agree, and I pull into the drive-thru line, which is moving at a snail’s pace. We reach the speaker, and something atypical happens, the order taker gets our order correct on my first try. This has become so unusual that my wife comments to me about it.

After a very long crawl, we reach the window and get our order. My wife does a visual check, and everything looks in order. We pull away.

Julie bites into her regular cheeseburger and sighs, “They got the order wrong.” Her sandwich is missing most of its condiments. “Do you want me to go back?” I ask. “No, let’s just keep going.” The next moment my son sighs, “This isn’t a double quarter pounder with cheese, it is a single.” The second error signals our return to the restaurant. My wife takes the offending sandwiches and goes into the restaurant. She is gone for a very long time. On her return, she apologizes for her delay by noting that they had to make her sandwich from scratch.

Now on the highway, I hear a sheik and an anxious laugh from her, “Well I guess they got me for complaining!” I look over to find that her cheeseburger has all of the right condiments, but it is missing the burger! What has happened to McDonald’s?

This is not an isolated incident, which brings me to my local McDonald’s on River Road. On Friday mornings I often stop there to purchase a coffee and a breakfast burrito. On Tuesday evenings I used to stop there to buy dinner for myself and two of my kids.

The morning lines can be very long, likely caused by the second window sometimes having to do the double duties of cash collection and food distribution. The morning shift seems to have the typical problems that fast food restaurants have. For instance, not including the salsa packet in my burrito order. I have also had to remind them that my order was incomplete, and on several occasions, I have had to tell them that they hadn’t collected my payment! These kinds of errors speak of poorly trained, underpaid, and overworked employees.

However, my Tuesday evening experiences have been worse. Yes, some of the above happens in the evenings too. I have gotten grossly incorrect orders with missing items, wrong items, and items that should have been tossed because they were too old or incorrectly made (for instance, fries so salty that they were inedible). Worse have been the times that defy any sort of quality control. My son has gotten double quarter pounders made with regular sized hamburger patties. I have had several instances where my Southwestern Salad looked like trash, appearing like a salad that had fallen on the floor and was then picked up and put back into its container. Not only did these salads look like a mess, but they were also missing the chicken. Yes, this has happened on more than one occasion from this location.

I bet you are thinking, “Why are you complaining here, you should be talking to McDonald’s!” It is true that on many occasions I have just eaten what I was given because I was tired or in a rush. However, over the last year, I have talked to staff, a manager, corporate, and I even wrote a personal letter to the CEO. Bottom line, It is my opinion that McDonald’s could care less that their product and their customers.

I go to the River Road McDonald’s because it is close and convenient. I don’t want extra layers of grief (like having to return to the store). When I have returned with a wrong order, I’m given the right food, but the workers seem more bothered than apologetic. With one of the “garbage” salad experiences, I asked to speak directly to the manager. She barely made eye contact with me. When she returned with a new salad, she mumbled a very weak “Sorry for the inconvenience.”

In another instance, I wrote out a complaint on the corporate website. The result? A few weeks later I received a postcard/coupon for a free value meal without any explanation. The postcard peeved me enough to do some research and get the name of the CEO of McDonald’s, who I wrote directly expressing my concerns. In that letter, I clearly stated where the store came up short. I appealed to the CEO, one businessman to another.

I have written the heads of corporations in the past, but this is hardly a regular occurrence. Usually, the results of my efforts have been positive…. Editor’s note: in the spirit of full disclosure I did have one experience that was equally bad, that was when I wrote the CEO of Comcast for a friend. A year later he is still paying for services that he can’t use, as the building where he was renting his office was sold, forcing him to relocate…. I write a good letter that is fair and balanced, and it appears that most CEOs appreciate it when someone takes the time to contact them about a real concern. They seem to understand that customers are what makes a company successful.

My response from the CEO of McDonald’s was the most generic of replies from a customer service representative. The letter wasn’t even signed with a real signature. It stated that McCorp preferred having the store deal with local complaints. That was that.

“Dr. Mike, why not protest with your feet?” Dear reader, McDonald’s are everywhere, and they are very convenient. It is unlikely that I will completely stop going to them because of these factors. However, I am definitely going to them much less than I did before, and I order less when I do go. I find myself driving longer distances to go to other fast food places (Portillo’s anyone?), and I now cook on Tuesday evenings. Think about what I just said, it has become more convenient for me to prepare a meal than to deal with long lines and wrong orders. That does not bode well for McDonald’s whose success was based on fast, reliable service.

I recently watched a video on the most loved and hated fast food restaurants. The most hated fast food restaurant is now McDonald’s. Advertising and a clown can’t make up for horrible service.

Are all McDonald’s as bad as these two? I would say, no. I have gone to other McDonald’s where the lines have moved, and my order was correct. I have gone to still other McDonald’s and received terrible service and bad food. When I look at both the good and the bad, it is my opinion is that McDonald’s is definitely declining. No one in my family looks forward to going to McDonald’s or eating their food.

McDonald’s defined the concept of fast food. They did this not only with their speed of delivery but also with their consistency and reliability. The McDonald’s of the past was able to convince us that they were our local McDonald’s, rather than a sterile extension of a corporate behemoth. Our kids wanted their Happy Meals, we wanted to feed our families easily. Such a simple concept, once achieved, now lost.

An American icon, gone wrong. Shame on you McDonald’s and shame on your CEO. The reply that I received from the letter that I sent him suggests a significant lack of interest on his part. The food and service that I receive from his restaurants seem to confirm that suggestion.

I always try to find the good in bad. The good here is that I’m cooking more at home, and choosing restaurants that appear to have better and somewhat healthier offerings. I guess that is something to be grateful for.

Dear readers, what has your experience been with the Golden Arches?

My local McDonald’s

Terry’s Story: Building A Guitar Museum

This is the story of Terry, and his 40-year desire to create a school and museum so he can share with others his love of stringed musical instruments.

I enter Terry’s music store, and he is pouring over an ordering catalog. He writes down items in a spiral notebook and then places a call to his music house’s customer service representative. From what I can tell he is ordering guitar strings, guitar tuners, and perhaps a pick-up or two. Terry is 65 and does all of his ordering the old school way, as he doesn’t own a computer.

After about 10 minutes he invites me to sit in a chair towards the back of his La Salle, Illinois store, which is called “The Guitar Junkyard.” It is a shop filled with every imaginable type of guitar and stringed instrument. Guitars are hanging from the walls, the ceiling, and on racks. Old looking one, new looking ones, fancy ones, handmade looking ones. Guitars are everywhere; they visually represent his life of collecting.

Terry always loved music, but as a child, he didn’t think that this would be his life. Terry was raised in the affluent Chicago suburb of Hinsdale. He went to Iowa State University in Ames because his parents expected him to go to college, but he always felt that he was more of a “hands-on” type of guy. Like many teenagers, he wasn’t sure what he wanted to major in. His choice was based on rules of elimination. English was crossed off because he didn’t like the rigid rules required. Meteorology was eliminated because of the excessive chemistry load. He was left with an anthropology major. He had been playing the guitar since he was a child, and so he decided on a music minor. Terry considers himself an ethnomusicologist, based on these areas of study.

In 1972 Terry taught himself the banjo. In 1974 he joined a bluegrass group in Ames as a banjo player, The group was locally successful. Terry was now working as a carpenter, and the band served as a nice counterpoint.

A good friend was managing a music store in Ames. He called Terry with a request to run the store for him for a couple of weeks as he had a family emergency and needed to travel out of state. Initially, Terry was reluctant; he had no business knowledge. His friend convinced him that it would be easy, and it would only be for a short time. This would be a turning point for Terry.

The friend never returned, and Terry was given the store manager job. The owner arranged to have someone train Terry on the business side of the store, and he was off on a new and unexpected career. Terry adjusted to his new job but found it too slow-paced. He started to buy junk guitars for the sole purpose of learning how to fix them. Eventually, he became an expert guitar repairman. Terry specifically refers to himself this way as opposed to calling himself a luthier. Terry had a steady job and was playing music on the weekends. His wife had advanced herself too, eventually earning a Ph.D. Life was good.

For every up, there is a down. After two years the store owner decided to close the Ames store, and Terry was out of a job. Around this time his bluegrass band was starting to fall apart. Once again, things were changing for Terry.

With a small bank loan, he started his music store, which became a successful enterprise. Around the same time, he was approached by another band, “The Warren County String Ticklers” to play the guitar and sing. Terry was a busy guy, running the store during the week and playing gigs at night and on the weekends. The Ticklers were popular locally leading to TV appearances on Iowa Public Television. Life was once again excellent, and it was about to get better.

Illinois Public Television was in the process of putting together a show for Jethro Burns, of Homer and Jethro fame, and they need a band for him. Through their Iowa TV connections, the Ticklers were chosen for the job. The show, called “Country Music Hall,” was a success and the band started to tour with Jethro. County fairs, state fairs, TV appearances, and more. Terry was traveling with an “A” level performer, and he was having the time of his life. His store was thriving, his wife’s career was advancing. Terry was on a successful fast track.

Life started to unravel by the mid-80s. Jethro Burns became ill and had to leave the tour for an extended period, and various members of the Ticklers were abandoning the band for various reasons. Although Terry loved working in the band, he was tired of the band life. Set-up, tear-down, fast food, long hours. It was exhausting, but more importantly, it kept him away from his friends, wife, and son. “About 3% of musicians become professional, but only about 0.1% reach a level of enough success where they can have a pampered life on the road.”

His wife got a job for the Department of Agriculture, and the family left for Washington DC for a three-year commitment. Terry left an employee in charge of his store, which quickly went from making a profit to being in debt. At one point he had to return to Iowa for two months, to save his business. “I found a drawer of bounced checks and people said that the shop was often closed during business hours. Apparently, my employee was making more money at the local pool hall than at the music store.”

Eventually, his wife’s Washington job ended, and she returned to Iowa State University. Terry’s shop was in the green, but this phase was also short-lived and a new twist that was about to happen. His wife’s university job ended, and she had to find a new one. One of her job offers was in Illinois, close to her family who lived in the LaSalle area. Terry packed up his shop and moved it to LaSalle, where it remains today.

All of this time Terry was collecting guitars and other string instruments. He says, “I only need one of each type.” Unfortunately, there are countless varieties to be had. Construction techniques can differ, body shape can vary, ornamentation can change. “When I make money I don’t pay myself; I buy another instrument.” This explains the expansive number of instruments in his shop.

Terry says that he has wanted to create a museum and teaching center for many years. The building that he rents for his store is for sale, and Terry is in the process of buying it. He envisions a museum on the first floor and his music store on the second.

Most of his instruments are not collector quality, but they all tell a story. He would like to allow people to play them and experience their differences. Also, he would like to share some of his talents. As a professional performer, he understands that there is more to playing on stage than plucking an instrument. He envisions a center that teaches the art of performance. As a self-taught guitar repairman, he plans a teaching program that could train future instrument fixers.

He would like to create a foundation to manage his museum and collection. His eventual goal would be to be the director of instrument repair. “I could leave the running of the place to someone else.”

Will Terry succeed in his quest? The outcome is unknown. He has the instruments, and he will soon own the space. He feels that he will have enough capital to make the fundamental changes needed to turn his shop into a museum. What is less clear is if he can draw enough people to LaSalle, Illinois to sustain the museum. He is very close to Starved Rock State Park. A park that gets over 3 million visitors a year. He is thinking of ways of attracting those visitors to his museum which he plans to call, The String Instrument Museum for Preservation, Luthiery Education” or SIMPLE. He wants to use the tagline, Music is SIMPLE.

Terry is 65, but he is still dreaming. Sitting in a rocking chair is not in his plans. He has wanted to establish his museum since his college days, and he is now a few steps closer to achieving his goal. His concept is novel, a place to showcase a diverse collection of string instruments, rather than one that displays museum-quality pieces. He wants to bring his type of music appreciation to the general public.

At the end of the interview, I asked Terry if he had any life regrets. “Are you sorry that you didn’t continue in anthropology, or as a professional musician?” After a long and thoughtful pause, he just said, “No.” Terry is right where he wants to be.

I wish Terry well in his plans and his future.

In life there are many ups and downs. It is how we view these twists and turns that determine our life satisfaction.

Terry’s music store:
The Guitar Junkyard
1049 8th St
LaSalle, IL

If you would like me to write your story, click here.

Terry
A massive collection.

On Old Friendships

Weeks ago we set up the dinner date with Ralph and Anne, and our get together was finally upon us. Julie picked a new fusion restaurant in the River District that she thought didn’t take reservations. Since it was an easy walk from our house, we decided to hike to it early and secure a table for dinner. We would meet Ralph and Anne there. All went as planned with two major exceptions. The place did take reservations, and we didn’t have any.

The trendy hostess said it would be over  90 minutes to seat us at a table. Frankly, an hour and a half is just too long for this old doctor to wait for the privilege to eat a taco pretending to be something more exotic than what it is. We left the fusion joint and traveled down the street to the Rosebud, an Italian restaurant.

I have known Ralph and Anne for over 27 years. About 25 years ago Ralph and I formed a partnership with a couple of other docs and created Genesis Clinical Services, which is a psychiatric and psychotherapy clinic. Together we built the clinic into a successful enterprise. Ralph is more business oriented; I’m more of a creative type. During my tenure as a senior partner, I created the company logo, constructed the first computer network, designed our letterhead, and much more. I even taught myself web-design and built our multi-media website. I was very invested in having the place succeed.

Unfortunately, such efforts come at a price. I was working at the clinic, plus another job. On my “free time” I was immersed in HTML code and Photoshop. What was the actual cost for me? My health. I started to talk to Ralph and another partner (Steve) about my leaving the partnership about 18 months before I did. With that said, I don’t think either of them believed that I would give up all of the benefits of being a partner in a successful medical practice. They were wrong.

Partnerships are like marriages. When you get “divorced” feelings get hurt. Although I thought that I had done everything correctly, the actual separation was very traumatic. I was hurt, felt betrayed, felt angry. I think the same could be said of Ralph. To make matters worse, I had decided to stay with the practice. I went from being a top dog to a lowly contract worker. I did this because I thought it would cause the least amount of trauma for my patients. I felt that I could handle it, this was a miscalculation.

After the dust settled, I was determined to put my angry feelings behind me. I know that Ralph is a good person and I believed that he would not deliberately try to hurt me. The reality was that despite the fact that we had grown to 5 partners, Ralph and I did the majority of the administrative work. My leaving placed a significant burden on him. Early on I intellectually forgave him for his actions. A workable truce was established. Unfortunately, intellect and emotion are two separate things. I was still raw and hurting. The closeness that I felt towards Ralph was replaced by a protective shield. I was in self-preservation mode. He was likely in a similar place.

At times I would cautiously extend a hand of friendship to him, and at other times Ralph would extend one to me. Like most reparative situations our connection trajectory wasn’t linear, it was jagged. Despite our mutual trauma, we both saw the greater picture. We were good people who genuinely cared about each other. We weren’t willing to throw away our friendship based on an isolated disappointment. We started a deliberate plan of walking with each other. A time of talk and reflection.

I can’t say when my emotional forgiveness caught up with my intellectual forgiveness, but it was a while back. Thankfully, we are back to our “pre-trauma” friendship state.

And now back to the Rosebud…

I texted Ralph that we moved our dinner plans to the Rosebud, and in a few minutes, he arrived with Anne. Nods were exchanged, then hellos. We sat down to Italian food and a little red wine. Talk of career, kids, potential vacations. It was just a regular evening with friends. It was beautiful in its lack of uniqueness. As we parted Julie asked me, “Do you think that they had a good time?” I replied, “I think so, I know that I did.”

Dear reader, I am a person who does not need many friends, but I do need some friends. Like any other relationship, sometimes friendships go smoothly, sometimes less smoothly. I am glad Ralph and I saw the bigger picture, and that we were willing to reach out to each other until our connection was fully healed.

At the same time, I understand that this scenario is not always the case. In my 65 years, I have had long-term friendships abruptly end for no apparent reason. I have also had friends distance themselves from me because of a misperceived slight, despite efforts on my part to correct the issue.

I tend to have very long-term friendships, but even here I need to reassess my connections with others. In retrospect, I have friends who only contact me when they need something from me, or when the fancy strikes them. When they have been asked to put out a little bit of effort for me, they have better things to do. Are these real friends? Their actions say no, but I am still uncertain. Do I continue to invest in these friendships? Do I let the connection coast along until time or an event forces the relationship back into the atmosphere of reality; where the relationship will burn up and disappear? Do actively end them? I do not have an answer to such questions at this time, but I am pondering.

I do know that friendships come and go. Some are worth considerable effort to maintain. Some get effort that is hugely undeserved. I have people in my life who appreciate me for who I am, rather than what I can do for them. Of course, I am there for these people. The amazing thing is that they are also there for me. These connection feel true and intrinsically more satisfying than some of the “what have you done for me lately”relationships from my past.

Dear reader, honor your friendships. Tell your friends that you care about them. Be kind to your friends. Don’t waste excessive energy on people who are not willing to do the same for you. You have value and worth that is based on who you are as a person. Fill your life with people who you love, and who love you. Celebrate that you are loved.

My Passion For Photography

My Passion For Photography

My birthday was approaching, and Julie and the kids asked me what I wanted to do. Since I ask for the same activity every year, my response wasn’t surprising to them. “I want to go somewhat and take some pictures.”

The day before our adventure I sat with my two youngest and searched, “Interesting towns in Illinois.” A list of 15 popped up, but most were over a 3 hours drive away. Woodstock was a little over an hour from our house, a reasonable drive. It seemed like the likely choice.

I charged my camera’s batteries and picked out a lens. Off we went.

Dear reader, my wife used to get annoyed with my constant picture taking. “Stay in the present, not behind the lens,” she would scold me in her best psychologist voice. But she understands me now. When I am wandering around, I usually drift off somewhere else in my head. A camera focuses me. I have to pay attention to my environment. I have to stay alert, as I am looking for anything that could make an interesting picture. I need to be on and not drifting away. But taking pictures always takes more time than just sightseeing. On my birthday my family gives me their time as a gift. They avoid making sighs and other sounds of displeasure when I suddenly stop in the middle of a street and raise my camera to my eye. Sometimes, one of them may even hold my camera bag.

I have always loved taking pictures. In the 1990s I jumped on the video bandwagon and had a whole desk full of editing equipment. Title makers, time base correctors, monitors. All connected with a sea of cables. When technology advanced, I converted to digital editing, building my video workstations to save money.

Video was interesting, but in the early 2000s I rediscovered photography, and I never looked back. Video is like reading a novel; photography is like reading a poem. A single picture can tell an entire story. It can inspire, repel, make you happy, sad, or even cry. Like the different genres of literature, there are genres in photography. Each requires a different skill set, but all are unified by a common language. That language is the language of light.

I find the creative aspect of photography the most rewarding. However, I also enjoy the gadgets and the photo tweaking. It is exciting for me to return home and upload my images to the large screen of my computer monitor. Sometimes I’m pleased, other times less so. No matter what I always learn a little bit more each time I go out and shoot.

There is also a joy in capturing something that is evident but likely ignored by the people around you. An emotion, a scene, an event. I have done professional photography through the years, but I get a different kind of pleasure shooting for the joy of creating something personal and uniquely mine.

So there I was in Woodstock, Illinois. Wandering the streets of its prosaic downtown, camera at the ready. I clicked here and pointed there; soon it was time to head home. The trip symbolic of many things: Seeing new sights, being creative, spending time with my family, improving a skill.

In many ways, my photography interest is symbolic of my life. The combination of creativity and technology is irresistible to me. When I take pictures, I am once again taught that most joy comes from simple things. It is a lesson that repeats over and over in my life.