Mc Donald's

Author's note: After several submissions, I must confess I have not been able to correctly predict the ratings my stories receive. No biggie. I have found out that there are a bunch of frustrated English teachers who seem to delight in finding spelling and grammatical errors. To you with that inclination, I promise to keep you busy. There is also a group who only want BTB stories. Sorry, I write both but like reconciliation more than burning. By the way, I plan to never reveal in advance if there is no sex or whether it is a BTB story or not. Read and find out. I hope you enjoy.

///////////

I work at McDonald's. If your immediate thought in reading that statement was "Loser" then this story is not for you. I love working for McDonald's. It has given me the chance to meet lots of people who became my friends. It has given me the chance to employ a large number of young people I consider "my children" the opportunity to begin their job history on a positive note. I am proud to say that three Assistant Managers who trained under me have become managers themselves. They all have families they are able to support and have done a lot for their communities. I can't begin to tell you all the success stories from former employees.

Is that enough? Personally, working at McDonald's allowed me to meet my wife, excuse me, ex-wife (more on that later). It permitted me to support my wife through college without a student loan. It allowed her to stay home and raise our two girls until they became of school age. It gave her the chance to improve her wardrobe, so she could present the "correct" image in her public relations career. It made it possible for us to have a nice house and cars, to save for college, and to plan for retirement. It caused our divorce.

That last statement may seem misplaced with the other benefits listed, but you will understand more soon.

To understand this tale, you need more information on how I run my McDonald's. Perhaps the best way is to give you an example of how I counsel employees who think the job is beneath them, the people they serve are less than them, and the job doesn't pay enough, etc. I tell them that they have great potential, but their current attitude is decreasing their options for the future. Getting fired from McDonald's is not a resume enhancer.

Customers come to McDonald's for various reasons. The main two are good food at a good price. Maybe it's the only day of the week that Mom doesn't have to cook and do the dishes. Maybe it's Dad's only meal out for the family he can afford. Maybe it's a reward for the kids for doing chores, homework, or just being respectful to their parents. Coming to McDonald's is very important to some people. If people did not want to come to McDonald's, everyone here would have to find a job elsewhere.

We should be happy to give people the opportunity to enjoy a meal. We are providing a valuable service. People smile, laugh and have a good time. Employees should smile, have a good time, and do their job. If you can't do that, you need to quit because if I see that is not happening, you are gone.

Sometimes my counseling has helped an employee turn around. Sometimes it has been a waste of time. Over the years I have been happy to say that I have a much lower turnover rate than the national average. Something's working right in my life, but not everything.

My ex-wife, Brenda, was a very loving wife and mother for many years. We communicated well, and I thought we were both satisfied with our sex life. I could not conceive the possibility that we would not grow old together. I looked forward to the time when the girls has moved out, my wife and I could spend more time together. I guess my belief and my wishes clouded my judgment of what I should have seen coming.

Brenda also became very good at her job. After several public relations positions at different companies, she became employed at the local United Way which raises lots of money for various human service agencies that provide great services in our community. Brenda worked hard and long hours and increased the fundraising by the United Way substantially. Her reward for years of success was to be named the Chairperson of the Greater Cincinnati United Way, a position of high status and decent pay.

When she was appointed Chairperson, her long hours and frequent absence from home increased. I didn't realize it at the time but what also increased was Brenda's evaluation of her own improved status. Although the kids and I wished she could be home more, we were proud of her and encouraged her. It wasn't until the first fundraising dinner-dance that I realized all was not well.

I clean up pretty well. By the way, my name is David Campbell. I am six feet tall and my face in the mirror does not break glass. The incredible amount of walking that has to be done working in a fast food restaurant keeps me fit (plus I lay off the French fries). My wife is attractive. Brenda is 5'10" and slender, small in the breast and butt categories. Without makeup, she is good looking. With makeup she is a knockout. Plus, she knows how to choose underwear and dresses that accentuate all of the positives.

At the dinner-dance, Brenda was introducing me to some of the major donors she worked with, mostly CEOs, CFOs, COOs and a few UFOs (yes, I love corny jokes and, yes, she hated them). Inevitably I would be asked what I did for a living. Brenda would quickly jump in and say I was a restaurant manager. When the follow-up question of 'Which one?' came up, Brenda would put her face down while I answered quite proudly, "I manage the McDonald's on Madison." The person who asked would usually get a disappointed look and say 'Oh' if anything. After a few repeats, Brenda stopped introducing me. My reception at home that night was chilly, and sex was off the table, a forbidding trend that increased.

Before the next dinner-dance, Brenda assured me that I did not have to go and told me she realized that these events were probably something I didn't like. When I said I didn't mind, her disposition changed, "Well, try not to embarrass me this time."

Somewhat shocked, I asked, "What have I done that has embarrassed you?"

"You broadcast all over the place that you work at McDonald's. Do you realize who I was introducing you to? Chairmen of the Board, Directors, Presidents of companies, Lawyers, Doctors . . . "

"In other words, people better than me."

"No, David, not better than you. People with better, more important jobs. I'm supposed to deal with them on an equal level. It's hard to do that when I'm seen as the wife of a McDonald's manager."

My mind simmered with rage, but I held back. "It is what it is. You didn't seem to mind when it paid for your college education."

Her rage was not held back. "That was then, and this is now. Are you going to behave or not?"

"Not."

"Well then, just stay home and play with your Happy Meal toy collection." She slammed the bathroom door behind her.

I guess I need to tell you I don't really have a Happy Meal toy collection, but it's not a bad idea. Some of those toys are worth a lot of money now. What I really did was work in my book of cryptograms. It helps me take my mind off, well anything I don't want to think of, like a disrespectful wife.

As you might suspect, I didn't get invited to any more United Way outings. I noticed that Brenda started coming home later and later from the office, often with alcohol on her breath. Our home life began to tank also.

That's when the nagging began. "Why can't you take a job managing a REAL restaurant?" "Why don't you want to provide our children the best in life?" "Why don't you see how important this is to me?"

I replied, "Managing a McDonald's is a real job. I do provide our children the best in life: my love and guidance. I do see how important status has become for you. What I don't see is what has happened to your values?"

Then she threw the dagger to my heart, "Don't you love me anymore?" That one hurt so bad I seriously considered walking out. What she was really saying was, "You should agree with me and do what I ask, or you don't love me." If she did not know I loved her by now, telling her would not make a difference.

When I kept refusing her "suggestions/demands", she finally said, "You don't understand" to which I responded, "Oh, I understand. I just don't agree." That pretty well stopped the nagging and our sex life which had pretty much been missing in action for some time anyway. And still, I did not think our problem was divorce provoking.

My days were full of work and attending the girls' sports activities at school. I was amazed at all the different girls' sports at the middle school level that were offered. No such opportunities when I was growing up. Good for them.

My wife's days and nights were full of, actually I didn't know. She stopped talking about her work during the few times we saw her. The girls joined me in teasing her when she came home with comments like: "You look like someone who used to live here." Brenda was not amused. She mostly acted like she didn't give a damn.

When she came home late one night, she made no attempt to disclose what activities she had been participating in. Based on what I saw on her discarded panties and what looked like bite marks around her breasts, I figured she was having sex with someone else. When Brenda looked at me after staring at her hickeys, I saw the "I dare you to say something" look. For the first time, I became angry. I didn't say anything because I figured it would come to a head soon. I finally began to realize our marriage was in danger if not already comatose.

In anticipation of what I figured was coming, I contacted a divorce attorney. He told me a divorce would be a losing situation. She would probably get the house, the kids, child support, alimony, half my assets, her own income and a boyfriend to provide her sexual needs and additional income. I would have half my assets, very little take home pay after the alimony/child support/house and car expenses and have to find a new place to live with those extra living expenses. Oh yeah, good luck on finding a new sexual outlet.

His advice was to wait until our 12 and 14 year-old kids had moved out for college or just leave and be prepared to live frugally. Revenge sex with another woman was not an option. I couldn't think of an agreeable option other than Brenda to stop what she was doing.

The decision about what to do was answered for me by my wife. I came home from work that fateful day and, to my surprise, Brenda was sitting on the couch with a good-looking man a few years younger than her, dressed in an expensive suit and tie. "David, the girls are at my parents' house. We need to talk. This is my friend, Richard Loomis. He is an attorney and a member of the United Way Board."

I spoke, "I assume he is the one you've been having your one-on-one meetings at night with. Sorry, one-on-top-of-one meetings?"

"David, there is no reason to be crude. We have not been having an affair but, Richard and I have a special friendship . . ."

I interjected, "Oh, do all special friends put cum on your panties and hickeys on your breasts?"

Richard interrupted, "Brenda, you don't need to tell him about our, uh, relationship. It could hurt you in court if he fights the divorce."

"Okay. David, there's no easy was to say this: I've given you every chance to improve your life and the life of our family. You have chosen to ignore me, so I want a divorce. Here are the papers drawn up by Richard. You need to sign them. It would be preferable for you to sign them now but within three days at least. If you accept, Richard can represent both of us and you won't have to pay for an attorney."

Richard offered, "The terms are simple. A 90-day period of legal separation started with you being served tonight. The divorce petition provides for a 50/50 split of all joint assets, 50/50 split of the house equity, primary custody goes to Brenda with limited, but frequent, visitation for you, no alimony, but child support of . . ."

"Primary custody with limited visitation? Why would you want that? You've hardly seen them in the last three years."

"Nonsense. I'm their mother. I am there when I need to be."

"When have you ever been to Cecilia's volleyball games?"

"That's a silly sport. They don't even give college scholarships for that."

"Yes, they do."

"Well, that's not that important."

"What about Misty's Girl Scout activities?"

"They must have been on the nights I had United Way obligations."

"Misty doesn't even belong to the Girl Scouts. That shows how much you pay attention to our daughters."

"It doesn't matter. The courts always gives the mother primary custody."

"What if I don't sign in three days?"

Richard interjected, "Then I play hard ball. The petition changes from Irreconcilable Differences to Mental Cruelty. Percentages of money goes to 60/40 in her favor. You will have to vacate the house and be given a restraining order. You will have to start paying alimony and child support immediately. There will be no visitation. Believe me, David, I am good at my job. You do not want to mess with me."

"Fuck you both. Oh, excuse my manners. Please fornicate you both."

"See what I have had to put up with all these years, Richard. I tried to reason with him but oh, mister big shot McDonald's manager. 'Why should I care what people think about my wife or my daughters? I'll just stay dumb and happy.' I should have left him years ago."

I grabbed her arm and said, "You did, Brenda, you did." She jerked her arm back and started to leave the house with her 'special friend.'

At the front door, Brenda turned back to me to say, "You'll find that I have already taken half of our joint assets. The girls and I will be in an apartment to give you plenty of time to move out. I'll decide later to either move back into this house or sell it and go live in Richard's house. He has offered us to put us up without having to pay rent."

I sat in my recliner and mused. I picked up the papers and said to myself, "I can't blame anyone but myself for not seeing this was coming. I'm screwed no matter what. Just as well sign and move on with my life." My signing was interrupted. The girls came running in the house.

"Hi, Dad. We're in a hurry." They started upstairs.

"Whoa there, kiddos. We need to have a talk."

"Dad, we already know. Mom told us weeks ago. We're going with her and Richard. He has this fabulous house with a swimming pool and he is sending us to Belmont Academy. When we turn sixteen, he is buying us a car. I'm going to get a BMW Z-4, convertible." Up the stairs they went. Looks like the apartment will not be needed very long, if at all.

When they came down, they stopped long enough to say, "Sorry, about this Dad but you should have done what Mom asked. Would it have hurt you to get a real job? It's your own fault. Bye." The door had closed before my "Bye" reached their ears.

My wife's announcement was a dagger in my heart. The girls just twisted the dagger and drove it in deeper. I thought about what I had. Empty house. Empty heart. Empty head. Feeling depressed and sorry for myself, I was ready to give up admitting, "She's won. Might as well sign these damn papers and get it over with." BUT. Somewhere down inside of me, I don't know where exactly, there was this little flicker of self-respect that said "Don't give in." So, I waited. Even if I decided to sign later, I could wait till the last minute just to make them wonder.

Then it happened. The event that changed the direction of my life around. It was both the worst thing and the best thing that ever happened to me. Sounds like I'm plagiarizing Tale of Two Cities. It started with a phone call from Albert Fredricks, another manager of a McDonald's in Covington, a former Assistant Manager under me. "Hey, David. Have you seen the latest entry on Brenda's Facebook page, the United Way Facebook page?"

"No. I don't Facebook."

"Well you need to read it. If it's what I think it is, we need to do something. Call me after you read it."

Brenda was a Facebook addict. She could not resist telling the world about our divorce. Here's what she said: "Most of you know that I am the Chairperson of the Greater Cincinnati United Way. I am proud of the increases in funding since I have been in charge. I want to thank all the CEOs, Directors, Business owners, Law Firms, Medical Practices, Administrators and others who have supported me. A problem for me, however, was the support, rather lack of support, I have received from my husband. I mean, being a manager of a fast food restaurant is okay for a lot of people, but it shouldn't be a dead-end job for someone who could achieve so much more. I know a lot of people in lower level, blue collar jobs don't have the ability to do any better and I understand they have to accept it. But I am not going to keep being pulled down in the quicksand of complacency or whatever it was that kept my husband satisfied with mediocrity. Despite my frequent urging, he has not taken the steps he needed to improve his career path to give his wife and daughters what they so desperately needed. I'm afraid his lack of support has held me back from doing my best for the United Way. I am, therefore, announcing that I am in the process of filing for divorce. This is the only way I can truly be able to help the poor people who need the programs provided by the United Way agencies. I promise that the divorce will not be a distraction in me performing my duties."

Remember that flicker of self-respect I told you about? It became a roaring fire under my ass. Brenda must have had too much to drink to have written that, but I figured liquor just lowered her inhibitions to let her true feelings come through. I called Albert back. He was fired up too and spoke quite loudly. "That Bitch! After everything you and McDonald's has done for her and your family. Thanking the damn CEOs. What about all the people who contribute a hell of a lot larger of a percentage of their paycheck than the CEOs do? We've got to do something. I'm calling a meeting of the other managers in the area. Can you come to the Hyatt tomorrow night? It's time to plan our response."

I was a bit unsure of what he meant, but I wasn't about to sit and twiddle my thumbs. "I'm there, brother."

Seven managers from Cincinnati and Covington showed up at the lounge in the bar in the Hyatt Regency. Five others could not make the meeting but agreed to help. Albert presided. "Here's a copy of the Facebook posting I told you all about in case you haven't seen it. Basically, this bitch is saying people that work at McDonald's and other low-class jobs are peons that don't deserve recognition for what they do. More importantly she is dumping one of the finest men I have ever known. I know, if it wasn't for him, I'd probably be a drug running junkie. I know several of you owe him too." Several 'Amens' were heard.

"I don't know about you, but I think we should do something for David, McDonald's, and for all the 'common people' who don't get the respect we and they deserve. It might be risky, but are you with me?"

After a moment of silence, one of the managers spoke, "As the man in the movie Network said, 'I'm mad as hell and I'm not going to take it anymore.' I don't' care if it costs me my job. Let's 'Burn the Bitch'." Approval was unanimous.

Just before I left the hotel, I was stopped by the front desk clerk who handed me his business card. "I'm on duty now but call me. Believe me, you want to talk to me."

In the Sunday paper there was a personal, full page ad from the twelve McDonald's managers. It told people about the Facebook page (now removed from its original site but republished elsewhere) and the insult that it presented for working people, McDonald's employees, and David Campbell. It said I had compiled many achievements in supporting my employees. My efforts in helping the local community were also outlined.