Perhaps you have noticed: Almost none of America's top corporations are weathering the economic collapse. Not Citigroup, not the car companies, not Starbucks. The oil profiteers are making out - for now - but even Wal-Mart, the economy's lowest common denominator, experienced a recent hiccup.
One company, to invoke Faulknerian hyperbole, has not merely survived, it has prevailed: McDonald's. This must be galling for all you Whole Foodies out there. Yes, McDonald's, lampooned in movies ("Super Size Me") and best-selling books ("Fast Food Nation"). Yes, McDonald's, with the astronomical salt content and the moronic corporate clown, is sweeping all before it.
Why? I invited Len Schlesinger, former Harvard Business School prof and the newly installed president of Babson College, to have lunch with me at McDonald's and explain how the magic works. Schlesinger brings some serious cred to this chow-down. He was a professor of service management at HBS, and also chief operating officer of the Au Bon Pain food chain. He has been a consultant to Taco Bell, and before coming to Babson he was vice chairman of Limited Brands, the Ohio-based retail conglomerate.
"Do you come here often?" is my first question as we rendezvous at the Mickey D's on Route 9 in Natick. "About once a month," he says. "And always when I'm in transit, on a highway or in an airport. I wouldn't call it a destination." The 56-year-old Schlesinger had a heart attack 15 years ago and generally avoids McDonald's fare for health reasons.
A destination McDonald's is not. This isn't the legendary "third place" that Howard Schultz intended Starbucks to become, a loungy hangout for latte-sipping, MacBook-tapping longhair layabouts. One of my favorite McDonald's, on Soldiers Field Road next to the IHOP, has wireless service, hi-def TV screens, and even the daily newspapers attached to wooden sticks for your reading pleasure. Even so, I don't hear anyone comparing it to the torporific reading room at the Boston Athenaeum.
So what is Schlesinger going to teach me? "Look at the promotional intensity of the menu," he says, pointing to the brightly lit panels advertising burger and McChicken combos above the cash register. In the economic crisis, outside the store, McDonald's promotes its "Dollar menu," featuring low-cost food. But inside the store, Schlesinger explains, they promote the $4 to $6 meal combos with Big Macs and Quarter Pounders.
Why? Because the french fries and fountain drinks make much more money for the company than the rococo burger specials. "Fries and sodas are the high-margin items," Schlesinger explains. (McDonald's won't comment on such "proprietary and confidential" information.) This same principle operates in a supermarket. Low-margin, commodity items such as milk, are far from the door. The high-margin, profitable candy sits next to the cash register, in case you are just passing through.
What about the food? Schlesinger invokes his Taco Bell consulting work, back in the day. "The four factors for success were, speed - fast food has to be fast - accuracy of the order, cleanliness, and temperature. People wanted their food hot, not lukewarm, but not too hot, either. What's the one thing that's not a factor? The taste of the food. When customers walk into a fast food restaurant, they have a pretty broad horizon of acceptability."
"Consistency and value - that's what McDonald's is selling," Schlesinger says. "Not high cuisine."
Subtly, McDonald's has taken away many of the reasons for hating it. You can drink Dasani water, milk, or orange juice instead of soda. I almost always order the bacon ranch salad, the fruit and walnut salad, or the new snack wraps, which aren't half bad. The Natick restaurant served Newman's Own decaffeinated coffee, and it was good. "What they've done is removed the parental veto," Schlesinger says. "So when the kids want to come in for a Happy Meal, Mom and Dad can't say, 'Oh, there's nothing for us to eat.' "
Schlesinger spotted a huge poster looming behind our table, offering the chain's new McCafe espresso coffee drinks "FREE" on Fridays until 4 p.m. The McCafes, intended to steal business from Starbucks and Dunkin' Donuts, normally sell for $2.29 and up.
Schlesinger nods his head in rapt admiration. "Free - now that's a price the customer can really relate to."
Alex Beam is a Globe columnist. His e-dress is beam@globe.com.
