Algorithm by McDonald's

I fully understand that the Internet is driven by algorithms. I know that an awful lot, indeed probably more than we realize, of our personal information is out there in the ether. There's no need for this to be too much of a concern, really. Quite a bit of it is public knowledge anyway; my birthday is a matter of public record, me Great Grandpa James once said. For some things, there simply is no point in worrying about who knows them.

Still, when I opened up Facebook yesterday to find an ad about how 61 year olds can earn an easy $75 McDonald's gift card well, I was a tad shocked. I know they know (and they know that I know that they know, and you can keep it going from there) how old I am. But as I have never ordered McD's online, have they made a connection I am not aware of (or, yes, forgot about, as I am 61) between myself and the Golden Arches? It concerns me just a bit.

Any way you slice it, that gift card better get here soon. I'm hungry.

Clear Orders from Headquarters

I took me Mom out shopping yesterday, and when we were finished and back in the new old van she blurted, "Are we gonna eat?"

"Sure," I answered. "We're about 45 minutes from home. We can make sandwiches when we get there," I continued, joshing her.

Immediately, I knew I had crossed a line. Stepped on toes. Creased the envelope. Went a bridge too far. She was giving me the Mom stare.

I returned the glare, melting all the while just the same, because you better not turn away either. Being a Mom, she had to let it burn into me for a few seconds. Finally she said with certainty, "We will go to McDonald's, or maybe Burger King, and get cheeseburgers."

"Yes ma'am. Absolutely, ma'am. Right away, ma'am. We'll go to McDonald's..."

"Or Burger King."

"Yes, ma'am, or Burger King, ma'am. For cheeseburgers, ma'am."

She nodded regally. 

I think she was only teasing. But I was glad we quickly came upon a BK.

But I meant well

This is from the file 'There's a joke in there somewhere'. I'm trying to find it. Believe me, some days you really have to force the blog into being, you know?

Saturday morning I went to McDonald's for breakfast. As my charitable giving isn't nearly good enough (and it isn't) when I saw the sign asking folks in the drive through lane to round up their bill to the nearest dollar as a donation to Ronald McDonald House charities I thought, do that, Marty. My bill was $5.32, so rounding up would give a good cause a whopping 68 cents. Not much but something, and the whole point of the effort is that little bits add up to one large, uh, might I say chunk of change.

With three cars ahead of me, I forgot to say round up as I paid. You know how that is: time, old guy, forget. Repeat pattern tomorrow. Hell, repeat pattern in an hour. As I was pulling back into traffic I remembered and sighed.

Taking me Mom out Sunday, we ended up at McDonald's for a little lunch. After I ordered the young man behind the speaker asked, "Would you like to round up your change for Ronald McDonald House?" Keenly aware that I now had the opportunity to make amends for Saturday I replied, "Yes, I would," and feeling rather proud of myself. I would not forget my fellow man this time.

"Great, thank you," the young man replied. Continuing he said, "Your food is $11.95, so that will be $12 at the first window."

Not that I should have felt overly proud at 68 cents, but that nickel sure sounded small. Way to help that family at Ronald McDonald House with five cents, Marty. I bet they can stay an extra half minute on it.

Cookies (not computer related)

Does McDonald's still have chocolate chips cookies?

I remember years ago - and I'm well beyond the point in my life where I can remember years ago - when they sold these little boxes of little chocolate chip cookies. The boxes were about the size that you buy animal crackers in, and the cookies were these hard, small brown hockey pucks with slivers of what passed as the chocolate chips. But to quote my old friend Rick, they weren't terrible.

The approach of Spring is when we find St. Patrick's Day. With that approach we also find that Shamrock shakes, minty green marvels that they are, become one of those limited time offers at many of the aforementioned McDonald's. And I had found back in the day that those chocolate chip cookies and Shamrock shakes went really well together. Really well.

What a frustrating thing to think at 2:48 in the morning, when there isn't a McDonald's open within an easy drive. And who would want to head out in the wee hours just to get a mint shake and cookies?

That would be me. I won't do it. I only want to. But I do believe that my Saturday mission later in the day will be to find out whether McDonald's does still have chocolate chip cookies to go with a Shamrock shake.

Mad at McDonald's

I came home from Hessel, in Michigan's glorious Upper Peninsula, early yesterday morning. I left our place at around 4:45, low on gas but figuring that I could make St. Ignace, the last town before the Mackinaw Bridge which leads into Michigan's cool yet not so glorious Lower Peninsula (sorry, Trolls). I safely presumed there would be gas stations open there. And restaurants, because I had eaten everything substantial in Hessel to clean out the larder and was hungry.

Gas stations were indeed available. I gassed up the new old van and bought an extra large coffee for the road trip ahead of me. You simply must have an extra large coffee on a road trip, you know. And leaving the station for MacDonald's, I was a bit chagrined to find Mickey D's not open. And I thought, "Why aren't they open at 5:30?" Because they should be, right?

Wrong, quite wrong, as I quickly told myself. It was arrogance on my part to presume the McDonald's in St. Ignace, Michigan had to be open at 5:30 in the morning merely because it would serve my desire, my convenience. But it leads me to wonder how many other wrong expectations I might hold about the world around me. In my case, as I think about it, there are many. How about you?

So to the St. Ignace McDonald's, I offer you an apology you don't know you deserve, because I should at least say it to someone. And the situation caused me to check my thoughts when the McDonald's at Indian River, the next closest McDonald's along my route, was still closed thirty minutes later.

I hate my brother

I hate my brother Phil. Okay, maybe I don't hate him. But he can be annoying.

Phil loves ketchup and he hates waste. As to ketchup, I use it sparingly when I use it at all. And I get it about waste: we shouldn't. But now it seems he's become my conscience about both waste and ketchup.

My mother I were out yesterday and we stopped for lunch at McDonald's. We had to use the self serve kiosk to order and our food was brought out to where we sat. When we were served, there was along with our burgers and fries two small opened and uncovered cups of ketchup, maybe a couple ounces worth max.

I wasn't going to use it. But if I didn't use it it would go to waste. McDonald's I knew couldn't take it back or would simply throw it away. We could have asked for covers and the ketchup would get put in my van, where it would very likely get lost somehow. I would not use it the several months later when I would surely find it, probably gushed all over a seat after something having been heaved upon it. That would be the same as waste and doubly irritating. So I did something I rarely do: I dipped my fries in it to use.

I wasn't using enough, so I ended up dipping my hamburger in it. Just to use it. Just to not waste. Mom wanted none of it, and there was no way I could make her use any even if I should have tried.

I used virtually all of that ketchup. Phil will be happy about that. I on the other hand hate him.