Dan D'Albini's Mickey D's
For me, there was something special about going to the Hillsboro McDonald's. Yes, the food was the McSame as other Mickey D's. But difference was the local franchise owner, Dan D'Albini.
I'm inexcusably horrible with names. I didn't know his name was Dan D'Albini until the restaurant closed and my daughter, Jillian, wrote a story about him.
Before then, I'd known him as that Outstanding McDonald's Owner Guy. You know, the franchise owner who actually worked at his own restaurant, and served his customers, as if it were his own hamburger stand.
And in many ways, it was.
D'Albini had a knack for making it seem like his McDonald's was there just for me. I'd come in, order something from the Dollar Menu, and, way too often judging by my waistline, I'd add an M&M McFlurry.
We'd joke about how each of us was always busy-busy, and off I'd go. And there he'd stay, treating the next customer as if McDonald's was there for them.
He did this, day after day, serving hamburgers to Hillsboro for 12 1/2 years.
D'Abini told me he'd been working at a McDonald's restaurant since he was a teenager, growing up in Salina, working for his father, who also was a franchiser. He spent hours in the back, peeling potatoes. His father was particular, so if young Dan's peeling wasn't up to par, he heard about it.
The same concern for detail was evident at young D'Albini's McDonald's.
He cared about quality.
He cared about customer service. And he made sure his workers cared, too.
While taking a late lunch in an empty restaurant a few months ago, I overheard D'Albini conducting an employee meeting. Using charts from the corporate headquarters, he explained to his workers exactly how McDonald's wanted things done, to the very last detail.
It was the only time I saw any evidence that the Hillsboro McDonald's was actually part of the world's largest restaurant chain. The rest of the time, it was Dan D'Albini's McDonald's.
My McDonald's.
Awhile back, McDonald's started putting sweetener and cream in its coffee for drive-through customers.
I liked five packets of Splenda in a large cup. Even though he had hundreds of other coffee customers, D'Albini remembered that I was the "Five packets of Splenda guy."
I went to McDonald's for coffee Dec. 29, the Friday morning after McDonald's closed for good in Hillsboro.
The parking lot was crowded with big trucks and swarming with activity. Workers high in the air were taking down the golden arches from the highest sign pole in the county. I assumed they were putting up new ones.
As I pulled into the lot, a woman pulling out rolled down her window and told me McDonald's was closed.
I thought she meant it was closed for the day, for remodeling. I drove around back, past the drive-through speaker and out of the parking lot. Later on, I heard a rumor that McDonald's wasn't just closed, it was closed-closed.
I didn't think it was true, but just in case, I sent my daughter, Jillian, our intern reporter, to check into it.
The front doors were locked when she got there, but she found D'Abini and his wife, Elizabeth, in the back, packing straws and paper product into their car.
They were kind to my daughter and took time to explain the situation to her.
As a result, Jillian wrote a story that revealed some, but not all, of the emotion in that interview.
We chose not to run the photograph of the couple, standing behind the napkin cartons, because they looked, well, devastated.
In deference to the D'Albinis, when Jillian wrote her story, she left out the part about their tears.
Dan told Jillian to tell me that he had watched me drive into the parking lot that morning, and that he was disappointed that I hadn't come inside.
Because had I gone in, I would have discovered that even though D'Albini's McDonald's was closed-closed, he still had my large coffee with five packs of Splenda ready for me.
The McDonald's in Hillsboro wasn't just another Mickey D's. It was Dan D'Albini's Mickey D's.
And that made all the difference.
— GRANT OVERSTAKE
