Like Kamala Harris, I worked at a McDonald’s, in my case in high school. Unlike Donald Trump, I never got a French fry certification pin for learning how to drop a basket of fries in the grease, which takes all of five seconds to master.
“I know that you perfected your skills behind the counter a day or so ago,” sycophant Republican Congressman Chuck Edwards said on Monday at another photo-op, this one in western North Carolina, which Trump used to double-down on his lies about FEMA not helping Carolina residents in the aftermath of Hurricane Helene.
This Edwards guy had previously put out a memo debunking the Trump lies about FEMA, but he’s also still a Republican who wants to continue being an elected Republican, so, you gotta toe the line on the truth.
The thing about the congressman giving Trump a certification pin is weird at first glance, but Edwards is a McDonald’s franchisee – his campaign website says he bought the McDonald’s that he worked at in high school, which, hey, that’s great, nice bootstraps story there.
Me, I had enough of life in the fast-food business in high school and college.
I mostly worked the cash register in my couple of months at the McDonald’s in my senior year of high school.
In addition to taking orders and handling money, and occasionally dropping the fries in the grease, I was also responsible for milkshakes, but all that involved was holding the cup under the machine.
It never occurred to me that anybody would give me a pin for mastering those skills.
My focus was on the $3.75 an hour I was bringing home.
Inflation-adjusted value to that wage: $9.05.
I also worked two summers while in college at the local Hardee’s, and one of my duties there included making shakes, which there had me making their new (at the time) peach milkshakes, which did require some effort (mixing in the peaches with the ice cream).
I made $4 an hour that summer.
Inflation-adjusted value to that wage: $9.26.
I’d have gladly traded a certification pin for a 10 cents-an-hour raise.
Also on the ledger for me: one summer delivering pizzas for Papa John’s ($4 an hour plus tips; biggest tip: $5), a few months running the broiler at Burger King (yes, it’s hot standing back there over that broiler).
I ran another cash register at a convenience store.
Fun story from that experience: the one night when three scummy-looking white guys in a van parked outside the front door hung around until closing time, with the safe to the store being just on the other side of that front door.
It was me and one other employee, the store was out in the middle of nowhere, we’re thinking, these guys are going to get us to open the safe, rob the store and kill us.
We called 911; it took the sheriff’s office an hour to send a deputy out, and when he got there, he talked to the guys in the van, bought their story that they were just waiting for somebody, and let them go.
We cheated violent death for four bucks an hour.
I’m seeing people (read: Republicans) going on about how the French fry stunt on the part of Trump was genius, because it shows him connecting with working people.
Here’s the reality there: Trump’s dad, Fred, who skimmed money from federal contracts to build low-income apartments to build the Trump family wealth, named Donald, at the age of 3, the landlord of one of his slums, and paid 3-year-old Donald $300,000 to “manage” it.
Fifteen minutes of being shown how to drop fries into a vat of grease isn’t going to educate a guy who started making $300,000 a year at the age of 3 what it’s like to have to make it on a few bucks an hour.
But, hey, he’s got a certification pin, which, admittedly, is nice.
Video: Donald Trump at McDonald’s
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Chris Graham
