One of my first jobs as a teenage was at McDonald's. This was back in the 70’s – and McDonald's was not like it is today. There were high standards in our store. We were required to speak a certain way to customers, say certain things and present food in a specific manner.
• The bag must be folded neatly, away from the logo, three times and presented to the customer logo out.
• No customer should wait in line for more than 3 minutes.
• When addressing a customer you must always use: Sir, Mam, or Miss.
• After the order was taken you must always suggest to either up size or add on:
-- “Would you rather a large fries, sir.”
-- “Perhaps an apple pie with your order, Mam?”
We were actually tested on these standards by folks from corporate headquarters who would stand in line during lunch rush. They would note how we treated customers, the presentation of our food, and the timeliness of our service.
When there was down time we cleaned. The mangers would walk the front and check all the appliances and counters – they were to sparkle. You never stood idle. There was always something to prepare always something to wipe down.
Is it any wonder I thrived in this environment.
I do so love order and discipline. The army would really be a perfect choice for me… if it weren’t for all that fighting and killing and such.
I thought of my McD’s days this morning as I was dressing for work. But not the work itself… I was longing for a uniform. Granted, in the 70’s, we wore the most hideous of polyester outfits.
But conceptually …the idea appeals to me.
Get up, shower, toss on the uniform. Done.
What shirt will work with these pants, which socks and what shoes… what’s my mood, what’s the weather…
What I really want… is to wear a gi.
I don’t need variety. I just want to wear something that works.
Pure cotton, breathes well, roomy and comfortable, and good for the environment, washes up nicely, no ironing necessary. What is not to like.
I would have 3 or 4 plain ones (non bleached natural cotton)…and maybe one of these for nights out.
When they got old I would retire them to be gardening gi’s, or painting gi’s.
How simple my life would be, how tidy my closet would look.