Hand Me that Spatula!
A writer sends out three hundred résumés in response to job postings. He got only eight interviews and only two real prospects: "I applied for about three hundred jobs. I applied to be a marketing designer at Nascar, a personal shopper at Tiffany, and a methadone counselor at Rikers Island. I applied to be the vice-president of collections and exhibitions at the Intrepid Sea, Air & Space Museum, a product designer at La-Z-Boy, a housekeeper on a cruise ship, a butler in a mansion, and a baby photographer. I applied to be a customer-service rep at Trump University, a multimedia coordinator at the Clinton Global Initiative, and some kind of manager at Toys "R" Us, Chuck E. Cheese's, Blockbuster, Home Depot, Starbucks, KFC, and McDonald's."
It's scary stuff, but I scoff at his dismissive attitude to McDonald's: "It's not entirely unflattering to hear you're potential management material, even if it's for a McDonald's franchise in a part of New York where the Law & Order cops find dead hookers. . . The McDonald's brass, with their billions served and hellish turnover rates, had interviewing down to a science, and I wasn't all that surprised when I didn't hear back from them, either."
I had lunch last week with a retired McDonald's franchisee. He did well with his businesses, and I related to him how a former McDonald's franchisee client of mine in northern Indiana paid his store managers $60,000 a year (this was about eight years ago), plus medical insurance. He said he wasn't surprised. Good managers, he said, command salaries in excess of $100,000, plus benefits. He said he smirks when people mock, "You wanna be a hamburger flipper all your life?"
There's money in them burgers! Don't be too quick to condescend.
That's it for today. Long baseball game last night, long days at the office.