There was a time when getting a McDonald’s burger felt like a treat. A thrill. A reason to stop mid-errand and have a little joy on a tray. Today? That same tray holds a sad, deflated, wafer-thin patty sandwiched between two pieces of bread that are mostly air and disappointment. Somewhere between the drive-thru speaker and the sad squish of a lukewarm cheeseburger, I realized something: mediocrity isn’t just surviving—it’s thriving. And we’re letting it.
Now, before I go full “grumpy gay uncle yelling at clouds,” let me say this isn’t just about the food. (Although, yes, I absolutely will return to the crimes being committed in the name of fast food shortly.) This is about a bigger cultural shift. A decline not just in quality, but in expectation. We’ve stopped demanding excellence—from businesses, from politicians, from pop stars, and sometimes from ourselves. It’s a slow, sneaky fade. One day you’re thrilled about a new menu item; the next, you’re chewing through beige meat paste and wondering when you got so damn cynical.
But am I cynical—or just awake?
The “Good Enough” Epidemic
Here’s what gets me: it’s not that the world has gotten harder (though, spoiler alert, it has). It’s that we’ve lowered our standards to accommodate the grind. Fast food is fast, but not food. Streaming is endless, but not engaging. Service is polite, but not personal. Politics is performative, healthcare is a lottery, and don’t even get me started on how many of us are running on iced coffee and trauma responses.
We used to expect excellence—or at least effort. Now we’re grateful if things just sort of work.
Running three hotels, I see it daily. We bend over backward to maintain quality, foster loyalty, and offer real hospitality. But we’re fighting upstream against a culture that accepts “meh” as the standard. And the kicker? People will often choose the cheaper, easier, lazier option even when excellence is available. Why? Because they’ve been taught to expect disappointment.
That’s not nostalgia talking. That’s observation backed by exhaustion.
When Burgers Were Bigger (And So Were Expectations)
Let’s circle back to the original wound: the burger.
Yes, I remember when a Big Mac felt… big. Not “small child’s science project” big. Real big. And I’m not just talking portion sizes—though yes, those have shrunk faster than the LGBTQ+ rights section in a red state school curriculum. I mean flavor. Freshness. The idea that someone gave a damn.
We’re living in a world where everything is cheaper, faster, and more disposable—and food is the canary in the coal mine. The fries aren’t hot. The cheese doesn’t melt. And the employees are burnt out from working in systems that demand perfection with no support.
The product is mediocre because the system is broken. And somehow, we’re okay with it.
Not Just the Food, Baby—The Vibe
Look, I know what you’re thinking: “Okay, Grandpa Bee, did we interrupt your 6 p.m. Jeopardy rerun for this?” Maybe. But this rant isn’t just about beef patties. It’s about a broader decay. A cultural laziness that we’ve come to normalize.
Pop stars don’t sing live anymore (but you better clap anyway). Tech releases are just the same phone in a different color. TV shows are carbon copies of each other—nostalgia rebooted, rebooted again, and spun off. Even the Kardashians look bored with their own branding. And I’m someone who lives for pop culture, so you know if I’m losing interest, it’s a four-alarm fire.
What This Has to Do with Healing
Here’s the twist you didn’t see coming: this decline in quality mirrors something deeper. As a person who’s survived trauma, illness, and the long road of healing, I know what it’s like to settle for less because more seems exhausting. To say “this is fine” when it isn’t. To accept scraps of love, friendship, service—because full meals feel like too much to ask for.
And I see it in others too. Our standards drop when we’re tired. When we’re told we don’t deserve better. When the fight feels too long. But here’s the truth: excellence isn’t about perfection. It’s about presence. Effort. Intention.
So What Do We Do?
We stop accepting less. We demand more—from ourselves, from each other, from our burgers. We stop applauding mediocrity because “at least they tried.” We become the annoying customer who sends the fries back because they’re cold, the voter who refuses to settle for the lesser evil, the friend who calls out passive behavior with love and boundaries.
We stop worshipping hustle culture and instead pour into quality—of work, of relationships, of experience.
Final Thoughts from the Cloud-Line
Maybe I am yelling at a cloud. Maybe I’m just salty because my fries weren’t. But maybe—just maybe—we’ve forgotten that we’re allowed to want more. That it’s okay to expect things to be good. Not perfect. Not flawless. But good.
Because we deserve better than beige burgers and beige lives.
I want joy that tastes like it used to. Love that’s full-fat, not low-effort. And yeah—burgers that actually taste like meat wouldn’t hurt either.