Does anyone else find this ridiculous?
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Big Mac, fries and an order of Choclair
CHRIS SORENSEN
SPECIAL TO THE STAR
There are bound to be uncomfortable moments when the world's largest fast-food chain decides hip-hop is a good way to sell hamburgers. Like when Ronald McDonald ? yellow clown suit, shock of red hair ? appears onstage in front of thousands, with a thunderous bass line and a few shout-outs.
"Let's hear you make some noise Markham, Ontario!" Boom-boom-ba-boom. "Let's hear you make some noise Mississauga, Ontario!" Boom-boom-boom. "Let's hear you make some noise Brampton, Ontario!
"Let's see those hands in the air!"
But his baggy clown pants can't mask the fact that he's no 50 Cent.
After a rough 2002 (first-ever quarterly loss, hundreds of restaurants closed), McDonald's Corp. is overhauling its image. Part of the plan: Ontario's largest-ever "crew rally" last Wednesday night, aimed at convincing young McDonald's workers that mammoth corporations can be hip ? just like the company's new "I'm lovin' it" global marketing campaign.
Not only did the burger giant rent the Air Canada Centre for the event. It paid Choclair, Saukrates, Brass Munk and Baby Blue Sound Crew to pump up 6,000 to 7,000 mostly teenage staffers, many plastered with McDonald's stickers, McDonald's flashing pins, McDonald's flags.
It's a surreal event ? sometimes it's a concert, sometimes it's a corporate pep rally, most often it's the mangled wreckage left after hip-hop and corporate Canada collide.
Bill Johnson, chief executive of McDonald's Restaurants of Canada Ltd., asks the crowd to watch a pair of giant television screens on either side of the stage. The TVs light up with the opening bars of new ads, plus a "behind-the-scenes" encounter with the company's new pitchman ? former *NSync heartthrob Justin Timberlake.
Women shriek. Guys heckle. Pouty Timberlake croons, "I don't want to waste your time in a pick-up line ... I'm lovin' it," stretching his tenuous musical credibility.
As the Timberlake segment ends, the live music begins. To their credit, Choclair, Saukrates and Brass Munk treat the gig like any other, stomping back and forth on stage between rhymes, ignoring Ronald's forays into the audience.
McDonald's older managers and executives, volunteers at the rally, sometimes appear bewildered. One clean-shaven man grimaces after Choclair bellows, "It's hip-hop in the house, hell-yeah!"
The McDonald's publicist later jokes, "It's a good thing we went with Justin Timberlake, not Eminem."
But the official message: Mission Accomplished. "I was thrilled with the reaction of our crew people," Johnson says the next day. He knew it was a success when, on his way home, he pulled alongside a rocking car with flags waving from the windows.
McDonald's flags.
From the workers, reviews are mixed. "Most companies don't do something like this," says Rahi Zamani, 23. "This is a really big thing ... they rented out the whole Air Canada Centre for all of us."
"It's the worst place in the world to work," says Andrea Cheng, 20. "The way they make up for it is with stuff like this."
Back up on stage, Baby Blue Sound Crew doesn't seem to mind trumpeting the corporate message at every opportunity. "Let me hear you say, `I'm looooovvvin' it!'" they holler over and over at the crowd, as arena lights search for the slogan on a banner drooping over the stage.
A few employees grumble as they watch their musical genre of choice being co-opted by a giant corporation. Ronald calls out, "Let's hear you make some noi-eeeeze!"
That's enough to make Lannie Skeete groan. "It's just trying too hard to be something you're not," the 18-year-old crew trainer says.
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Big Mac, fries and an order of Choclair
CHRIS SORENSEN
SPECIAL TO THE STAR
There are bound to be uncomfortable moments when the world's largest fast-food chain decides hip-hop is a good way to sell hamburgers. Like when Ronald McDonald ? yellow clown suit, shock of red hair ? appears onstage in front of thousands, with a thunderous bass line and a few shout-outs.
"Let's hear you make some noise Markham, Ontario!" Boom-boom-ba-boom. "Let's hear you make some noise Mississauga, Ontario!" Boom-boom-boom. "Let's hear you make some noise Brampton, Ontario!
"Let's see those hands in the air!"
But his baggy clown pants can't mask the fact that he's no 50 Cent.
After a rough 2002 (first-ever quarterly loss, hundreds of restaurants closed), McDonald's Corp. is overhauling its image. Part of the plan: Ontario's largest-ever "crew rally" last Wednesday night, aimed at convincing young McDonald's workers that mammoth corporations can be hip ? just like the company's new "I'm lovin' it" global marketing campaign.
Not only did the burger giant rent the Air Canada Centre for the event. It paid Choclair, Saukrates, Brass Munk and Baby Blue Sound Crew to pump up 6,000 to 7,000 mostly teenage staffers, many plastered with McDonald's stickers, McDonald's flashing pins, McDonald's flags.
It's a surreal event ? sometimes it's a concert, sometimes it's a corporate pep rally, most often it's the mangled wreckage left after hip-hop and corporate Canada collide.
Bill Johnson, chief executive of McDonald's Restaurants of Canada Ltd., asks the crowd to watch a pair of giant television screens on either side of the stage. The TVs light up with the opening bars of new ads, plus a "behind-the-scenes" encounter with the company's new pitchman ? former *NSync heartthrob Justin Timberlake.
Women shriek. Guys heckle. Pouty Timberlake croons, "I don't want to waste your time in a pick-up line ... I'm lovin' it," stretching his tenuous musical credibility.
As the Timberlake segment ends, the live music begins. To their credit, Choclair, Saukrates and Brass Munk treat the gig like any other, stomping back and forth on stage between rhymes, ignoring Ronald's forays into the audience.
McDonald's older managers and executives, volunteers at the rally, sometimes appear bewildered. One clean-shaven man grimaces after Choclair bellows, "It's hip-hop in the house, hell-yeah!"
The McDonald's publicist later jokes, "It's a good thing we went with Justin Timberlake, not Eminem."
But the official message: Mission Accomplished. "I was thrilled with the reaction of our crew people," Johnson says the next day. He knew it was a success when, on his way home, he pulled alongside a rocking car with flags waving from the windows.
McDonald's flags.
From the workers, reviews are mixed. "Most companies don't do something like this," says Rahi Zamani, 23. "This is a really big thing ... they rented out the whole Air Canada Centre for all of us."
"It's the worst place in the world to work," says Andrea Cheng, 20. "The way they make up for it is with stuff like this."
Back up on stage, Baby Blue Sound Crew doesn't seem to mind trumpeting the corporate message at every opportunity. "Let me hear you say, `I'm looooovvvin' it!'" they holler over and over at the crowd, as arena lights search for the slogan on a banner drooping over the stage.
A few employees grumble as they watch their musical genre of choice being co-opted by a giant corporation. Ronald calls out, "Let's hear you make some noi-eeeeze!"
That's enough to make Lannie Skeete groan. "It's just trying too hard to be something you're not," the 18-year-old crew trainer says.