A Letter from the Counter, 2010

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“Dear Mr. Ronald McDonald the Clown,

Allow me to introduce myself before I get into the subject of my letter. My name’s Tracy Ashford, and I was born in Michigan in March 1990. I didn’t tell the management my real birthday when I got hired at McDonald’s. This business is a family, but I don’t want my birthday being celebrated in the back of the restaurant. It’s not that get flustered when people sing me Happy Birthday or anything, I just refuse to allow it. The subject of my letter is a more serious affair. I want to share in the financial success of McDonald’s. I want fiscal benefits, shares in the company, and a raise. Because you know what, Mr. Clown? I’m not just any employee. I’m Tracy Ashford, an American born and raised in Michigan, and I’m proud of who I am.

I’ve been working in this McDonald's for fifteen years now. Well, that is to say I started my fifteenth year in March this year. I’ve never told my real date of birth to the fine family here at McDonald’s. What’s more, I know the company’s numbers like the back of my hand. I know McDonald’s sells 29 Big Macs every second worldwide – that’s over 900 million Big Macs a year. And I’m not planning on staying here just because they give me a Big Mac and sing Happy Birthday on my birthday, you know what I mean? Read the numbers, why don’t you? Where am I in all this? What’s Tracy Ashford’s place? McDonald’s is the world’s biggest restaurant chain by revenue, serving 69 million customers in over 100 countries every day. The most expensive Big Mac is sold in Switzerland, and the cheapest is India. I’m no fool. Your Big Mac has become a quality of life index all of its own. What’s my role in the Big Mac story? Word to the wise, I don’t plan on just staying put and keeping my mouth shut. That’s why I’m challenging the McDonald’s corporation in court. Nationally at first, then internationally. I’ll contact the press and reporters to explain that McDonald’s employees have the right to a share in the takings. McDonald’s made over 21 billion dollars in 2019. I’ll fight to the end. That’s why I’m claiming collective ownership of this corporation. I’m asking you to make a gesture. Call it a threat, if you like.

The McDonald brothers, Richard and Maurice, might have sold the Big Mac secret sauce recipe for millions of dollars. But so far, no-one else knows how to make a Big Mac. It’s an American cultural property of which I’m very proud. Still, I spent a long time trying to steal the Big Mac secret recipe. What is it, after all? A seeded bun cut into three pieces, beef patties, pickles, onions, cheese and lettuce. Put it all together and you’ve got a Big Mac. And I’ll tell the whole world how to make it. Your secret recipe is no secret to me. Of course, since my letter isn’t public, you and I know that there are additives and secret sauce in the Big Mac. I’m a thorough sort of woman by nature. My threats don’t end there. If you can’t make any kind of gesture, I’ll take the Big Mac to a lab to get it tested. I’ll share the secret with other companies, and they’ll pay me millions.

Listen, I know the company does a lot of good around the world. I know there’s kosher McDonald’s in Israel, and they serve Big Mac meals to refugees in Japan, that you build playgrounds and that there are even McDonald’s in Monopoly now. But what about me? What do I get out of it? I’m proud to work for a giant of the American economy, and I want some kind of compensation, whatever it is. I hope, Mr. Clown, Mr. Ronald McDonald, that my letter reaches you, and that in the future you’ll think twice about who you employ.

Your employee,

Tracy Ashford.”

Alan Alfredo Geday