When did CEO’s get so soft? I grew up being led to believe that to get to the top of the corporate hill, you had to demonstrate leadership, grit, and determination, no matter what kind of pressure and scrutiny you were under. So, imagine my disgust when I saw current McDonald’s CEO Chris Kempczinski take a bite of the new Big Arch as if he was afraid of it suddenly springing to life and stealing his soul.
That bite was pathetic and unbecoming of the figurehead of the largest food retailer the world has ever known. What that company needs is a real consumer. What they need is someone like me. A man who can unhinge their jaw like an anaconda and stuff those chemical waste burgers down their throat in a way that’s functionally identical to force feeding a foie gras goose and do it all while stuck in bumper-to-bumper gridlock with tears streaming down their face as Enya’s ethereal tones transport them to a world less riddled with pain.
How can someone making untold millions per year not even be an enthusiastic face of their brand? Isn’t it a far better investment to have a CEO who can ravenously hork down their slop under any condition? And I mean any condition? I can eat those miniaturized, portable radioactive landfills in airports, at funerals, churches, weddings, quincerañeras I wasn’t invited to, court dates, or even the most chaotic gender reveal party. But don’t take my word for it, McDonald’s. Feel free to reach out to any of my friends or colleagues for references. None of whom will dare to carpool with me because, as previously touched upon, I regularly grief eat anywhere between four or nine Big Macs during my rush hour commute home, all as I play “May It Be” on repeat causing me to once again relive Boromir’s death as I sit in my ’94 Honda Civic while eating and sobbing like a little fat girl.
My schedule is wide open, McDonald’s. The ball is in your court. Because if all that I’ve said doesn’t assure you of my bona fides, I’m not sure what will.
