Most of the time, when I try to make a point, I find the best way to do so is by telling a story — something I learnt, something I lived, or something I heard. For days now, I’ve been thinking about this particular story, and maybe its renewed relevance will become apparent quite soon.
I’ve shared before some stories from my years at McDonald’s. I spent five years working for “big burger,” as people would say now. And although not everything was peaches and cream, there are many lessons I still carry with me today.
I had just been promoted to assistant manager. My boss, Michelle — one of my mentors, to be honest — had requested that I transfer with her to a larger store. She’d been tasked with turning things around at a location that wasn’t doing well. For a store with that level of sales, certain issues were simply unacceptable. It was profitable, I won’t exaggerate, but not as much as it could have been.
One of the first problems Michelle identified was the out-of-control food cost. Lots of product was missing — not because of inventory mistakes or truck shortages, but plain old theft. You’d imagine people walking out with cases of meat or eggs, but that wasn’t happening. Still, case after case went missing.
It didn’t take long to realize it was many small things being stolen very often. Someone taking a couple of patties home after their shift. A little box of unsold chicken nuggets for the road. Nearly everyone, all forty-five employees, participated of the pillaging, to put it plainly.
It would’ve been easy to call them all thieves, fire them, and lecture them about consequences. But if Michelle had done that, she would’ve created an even bigger problem.
So how did the food cost get under control? It started with conversations — with one-on-ones, understanding why the culture had become what it was. Why people felt it was normal to just take.
A mix of low wages, lack of accountability, unclear expectations, and little recognition had created this dragon of a problem.
Michelle, with her usual kindness and wisdom, fixed the issue by taking care of her employees. She didn’t go on a firing spree, as many might have done. Instead, she identified valuable crew members and gave them promotions and raises. She created allies in her mission to turn the store around.
From there, new policies were simple and clear: you could have one free meal per shift. No need to hide in a corner with a stolen burger. But everything had to be rung up through a register and approved by the shift manager.
It should go without saying, but people need to feel compensated. Payment comes in many forms — money is one, but not the only one. Within the limits of the store’s finances, Michelle raised wages where she could. But she also made it a point to recognize effort, to praise in public, to correct in private, to set the tone each day. And the store began to run like a tight ship.
I find this lesson deeply valuable. More often than not, I’ve been on the receiving end of what I call “the non-receiver.” Yes, I’m being silly, but I’m making a point. What man my age hasn’t dealt with an ingrate? I doubt such a man exists, and on those legs, my point stands quite firmly.
So why share this now? Because sometimes, when people misbehave — so to speak — it’s not just bad character. Sometimes we’ve failed to provide the right environment for them. Not always, of course, but it’s not rare either.
People who give effort and never get a simple thank-you may eventually become what we’d call bad actors. A kind of bridge-burning happens, and yet we act surprised, as if it made no sense.
I’m not talking about the entitled — that’s another story. I’m talking about people who try, who give it an honest go, and eventually realize there’s just no point.
In my estimation, this might be one of the most important roles of a leader — whether in a project, a business, or a community. A leader has to set the tone and find creative ways to reward the people doing the work. Sure, the easiest reward is money. But when funds are limited, recognition and gratitude go a long, long way.
And that, I think, is what Michelle understood better than most — that the real cost of things isn’t measured in dollars lost, but in people lost.
MenO
