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It began on a positive note. Last month, Chris Kempczinski, the CEO of McDonald’s, shared a video showcasing his initial experience with the company’s new flagship burger, the Big Arch, set to launch nationwide on March 3.
Big Arch Burger Launch
It appeared to be the ideal moment for marketing. The leader, prominently positioned, was celebrating his latest innovation. He was enthusiastic as he unveiled the package. It was “incredible.” It was “distinctive.” “So much happening.”
Kempczinski graduated from P&G. This was the classic conclusion from the top executive.
After that, he enjoyed the morsel.
CEO’s Enthusiastic Announcement
The action itself—similar to a person carefully handling a delicate situation—wasn’t truly a bite. It was merely a nibble at the periphery, while he oddly referred to it as the “item.” Then “this object.”
The subsequent events, or more accurately what did not occur, determined the outcome of the video. It concludes with only 2.3% of the burger eaten, while Kempczinski waves the remainder of his Big Arch like a banner of defeat. He assures viewers he will savor it off-screen.
The video has been dissected on social media, and musician Garron Noone expressed the line that will haunt Kempczinski forever: “This individual does not consume McDonald’s.”
Marketing Strategies in Focus
Kempczinski is widely regarded as a remarkable CEO.
With an MBA from Harvard and an undergraduate degree from Duke, he has spent 25 years in leading consumer firms. He asserts that he dines at McDonald’s multiple times each week.
Under his leadership, McDonald’s has shown impressive performance. He is well-versed in the profit and loss statements, the economics of franchise operations, the supply chain logistics, and the digital initiatives.
Innovative Packaging Revealed
What he is also aware of, and what the video clearly revealed to millions of viewers at once, is that the Big Arch has enough calories to fuel a small Zamboni.
This encapsulates the core dilemma faced by today’s CEO. As you ascend the corporate ladder, you become increasingly detached from the product you market. You might rake in $20 million annually while promoting a combo meal priced at just nine dollars.
The paradox is as immense as it is unsolvable. You transition into a leader of leaders, a ruler of the realm, a distinguished guest in vanquished territories. You understand your product deeply as an idea—its market presence, brand value, customer satisfaction metrics—but you lose touch with it as an item you consume on a Tuesday when you’re inebriated.
Warren Buffett consumes five cans of Coke daily, not as a marketing tactic, but because he first tasted it at eight years old and has been captivated ever since. He proclaimed Cherry Coke as the official beverage for the Berkshire Hathaway annual meeting. Berkshire holds 400 million shares of Coca-Cola, valued at over $20 billion. It doesn’t seem like a calculated move; it appears to be a man who genuinely enjoys his drink and has never needed to feign enthusiasm.
Buffett serves as a brand ambassador for a reason that Kempczinski does not: his engagement is completely unconditional.
He refrains from consuming Coke since he has investments in it. He has investments in it because he consumes Coke.
Akio Toyoda didn’t merely use his own creation—he competed with it. Each summer, he would vanish to the Nürburgring to take part in the 24-hour endurance race under the alias “Morizo,” as Toyota’s executives deemed the entire endeavor an embarrassing diversion.
The small pieces of black tape conveyed everything that Zuck’s statements failed to express. The actions of Zuckerberg as a CEO are quite different from what Mark engages in once he returns home.
There’s a straightforward directive for any CEO suddenly faced with the most perilous of situations: their own offering. Experience it.
Not just once every few months for a communications team. Consistently, in private, like any regular person would. Enjoy the burger. Sip that soda. Take the wheel of the car. Because in that instant, your product isn’t just reflecting your company. It’s revealing something about you.
Buffett and Toyoda achieved remarkable success with their companies in part by bridging the gap between their personal lives and their products. This connection enhanced their leadership abilities.
Let’s take a step back. Identical burger. The same CEO. A different iteration.
Kempczinski unveils the box. He refrains from detailing it. He avoids labeling it as a product. He utters just a few lines. Then, with both hands, he lifts it—because that’s the proper way to handle a Big Arch—leans in slightly to prevent sauce from staining his shirt, and takes a deliberate, substantial three-inch bite. He chews. There’s no showmanship in his chewing. He simply chews.
Perhaps he utters something, or perhaps he remains silent. He doesn’t flaunt it. He doesn’t refer to “this thing” as if he’s presenting proof. The clip concludes with him nodding, half of the burger still in his grasp. It’s the sort of nod that conveys satisfaction. That everything is being consumed. That he wouldn’t want to be anywhere else but here, in this moment. Running McDonald’s, savoring McDonald’s. The CEO and the product in flawless unison, all from a single bite.