DRIPPING SPRINGS, TEXAS. In the future, speaking will be unnecessary.
I learned this on a recent visit to the local McDonald’s, my regular place for observing the human condition. This McDonald’s, like most, isn’t the master of its world. Nearby, you can find a Schlotzky’s, a Sonic, a What-a-Burger, a Subway, a Thundercloud subs, a Chicken Express and a Dairy Queen.
And that’s within walking distance. The list is a lot longer.
It’s a tough, competitive world out there, filled with organizations that want the privilege of filling our tummies.
This explains the new installation. It would be over-dramatizing to say that it rises out of the floor like the black object in the classic “2001: A Space Odyssey.” But it had the same effect.
I was speechless.
I pointed at it.
I pointed at it again. And again. And again.
It took a while, and a lot of speechless finger pointing, but the new order-taking kiosk eventually had my order, silently accepted my credit card, and gave me a number. (For the record, it was 31.)
My order consisted of a classic chicken sandwich from the low dollar menu ($3), a small fries ($1.15), a small fountain drink ($1), and a caramel sundae ($1.15) for a total of $6.98. I hope you appreciate that last item, the caramel sundae. It is proof of my journalistic integrity, a confession that was startling even to my wife. She didn’t know of my secret habit before this column. Now she knows. I hope you understand the kind of sacrifice this involves.
A few minutes later, someone I never saw called out my number. I went to the counter and picked up my tray and started to say, “thank you”— but all the workers were somewhere else, rushing to put together other orders. So I took my tray, sat at a raised counter, and enjoyed my guilty pleasure in complete privacy.
Some might explain the arrival of the order-taking kiosk as the only way the McDonald’s Corporation can cope with its egregious, unnecessary, soul-killing, labor bill. Workers are now so scarce this McDonald’s has been offering over $10 an hour.
Clearly, the only way to beat the rising cost of labor is to automate.
That’s the kind of thing that happens in a state as blessed as Texas. With a current unemployment rate of 4 percent in the state, still lower in the Austin area, and with high schools now back in session, the labor pool is, well, drained. Finding anyone to complete a job application is as hard as finding a Baptist uncertain of his place in Eternity.
Another explanation of the kiosk is our unending drive for economic productivity; to do more work, have higher output, with less labor. To do that, we substitute ever more equipment, technology and software into everything that we do for each other.
It’s just the way things are. That’s why you pump your own gas when you refill your car. It’s why you assemble all the Christmas toys. It’s why your groceries are scanned, not keyed, at the checkout counter. It’s why you can leave big box stores through an automated checkout, without ever talking with an actual person.
All of which means the future is starting to look kinda’ creepy.
In the future, if you are poor, you’ll be doing work that involves little contact or communication with other people because, well, the future can’t afford you— even though you don’t earn enough to cover your rent. Then again, you’ll need to share your space with lots of other people in the same boat, so you might not have a moment of peace.
In the future, if you are rich, your life could be rich with people as well as stuff. You’ll be able to afford contact with people. The question is whether you will dare. You’ll need to be careful because all those poor people might not like you very much. Start thinking barbed wire, big-time security systems, and lots of highly productive stuff to protect you from misfortune.
Sadly, this isn’t a vision-noir. It’s just the inevitable math of productivity.
Earlier Meditations at McDonald’s:
11/01/13: Meditation on McDonald’s, Once More
04/17/11: Meditation on McDonald’s, Part 2
o2/20/09: A Meditation on McDonald’s
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Photo credit: 2001 Space Odessy, Wallpaperflare.com
© Scott Burns, 2018