Ballard Smith Hurls Burgers on Grill : McRookie’s Career on an Upward Arch

As the new McDonald’s worker was given a quick orientation, the owner of the place talked about whether the fella could cut the mustard.

“We hire people without experience at three-fifty an hour, and then we give them a performance review in 10 days or two weeks,” said Sam Whiting, who owns the McDonald’s franchise in Pacific Beach. “That’s when the manager will sit down and discuss whether he has a future at McDonald’s.”

Somehow, this worker wasn’t too worried about his future at McDonald’s--even if he could only crack one egg at a time while the kid next to him was cracking ‘em in pairs.

Ballard Smith, president of the San Diego Padres, a member of the McDonald’s board of directors and son-in-law of Padres (and McDonald’s) owner Joan Kroc, went to work Friday with the McRank and McFile. The corporate field trip into the kitchens commemorated the Sunday birthday of the late Ray Kroc, who built the McDonald’s empire.

The corporate honchos need to see the other side of the business just to keep their perspective, someone had decided. Smith chose this McDonald’s because it’s not far from his home. And he reported to work right on time, after parking his red Mercedes-Benz on the street.

“Gotta leave the parking lot spaces for the customers,” he said.

In the kitchen, Smith learned the three different ways to prepare the eggs and every few minutes, he’d pipe: “Two scrambleds are up.” Then he’d smile.

“He’s getting the hang of it,” said another cook.

Out at the front counter, Smith seemed a little confounded by the cash register and its selection of 80 keys. But he greeted every customer with a smile and remembered to give them their game cards.

In the dining room, he did just fine pouring coffee refills.

All the while, he wore a “McRookie” apron with a name tag identifying himself, but not too many people seemed to notice--or care.

“Do you know who just served you?” one man in his 20s was asked.

“No,” he said, scratching away at his game card.

“That was Ballard Smith.”

“Oh.” He walked off, still scratching his card.

Another customer walked away from the counter, seemingly nonplussed by Smith’s presence.

“I thought he looked a little old to be working here,” the customer said, when informed of Ballard’s identity. “And he looked like a rookie--kind of nervous.”

In the dining room, Bill Willis, a regular customer, struck up a conversation with Smith without knowing who he was, thanking him for the coffee refill. After Smith walked away, someone else in Willis’ party clued him in.

“Geez, he ought to make a habit out of working here. The service is a lot better today than it usually is,” Willis said.

“That was Ballard, eh?” Willis added, his voice rising. “Hey, come back here. I got to talk to you about the Padres . . . “