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hen
the news first broke it seemed like an amusing, if inconsequential,
story: McDonald's Monopoly game was crooked. The people charged
with handing out the cash had made sure to hand it to people who
would pay them back when the time was right. While the whole thing
sounded suspiciously like the appropriations process in Congress,
it initially seemed to have little relevance to my life.
But that was
only until I realized that I stand to gain personally from McDonald's
cruel hoax. I won a soda a while back that I never cashed in on,
but if the tiny plastic game piece ever turns up under my car seat
I know just what I intend to do: Get my soda, and use it to wash
down some free fries.
What makes
me so sure I'm coming into free fries? Well, they're practically
my birthright given the shenanigans McDonald's has been up to. My
millions of swindled brethren and I are going to sue for them--class-action
style. By the time the smoke clears, my pals and I will be able
to fill a ten-story vault with free fries and swim around in them
like Scrooge McDuck.
The wheels
of justice are already in motion. The FBI blew the lid off the prize-fixing
operation on Tuesday of last week; by Friday, vigilant lawyer Aron
D. Robinson of Chicago had filed a consumer-fraud suit against McDonald's
and its security company, seeking class-action status. According
to Mr. Robinson, there has been at least one other suit filed in
California. In fact, Mr. Robinson is confident that suits are being
filed all over the country.
Unfortunately,
some complications may arise for those of us seeking a well-deserved
free lunch. As Mr. Robinson told me on Friday, "there are going
to be a lot of novel legal issues in this case." For one, there's
the sticky matter of proving that anyone has actually been harmed.
Mr. Robinson thinks there's a smoking gun though. McDonald's must
have data on the incremental sales created by its game promotions.
If customers came to McDonald's more often, if they got the super-sized
fries instead of the regular ones in order to get game pieces, there's
the harm.
Case closed!
Bring on the settlement or lucrative jury award!
Now, some cynics
might protest that a class-action suit against McDonald's is just
one more vehicle for trial lawyers to get rich. They might suggest
that the lawyers will walk away with millions while the customers
are handed a few coupons for free food. They might, if they were
especially cynical, compare the case to a settlement reached last
year in a class-action suit involving American Airlines, where the
lawyers split $25 million in fees and the plaintiffs got some frequent-flier
miles.
You'll find
no such cynicism here though. I, for one, love French fries.
Furthermore,
now that I think about it, I'm getting a bit suspicious of some
other contests I've never won. Take Powerball, for instance. You
buy a ticket, and what do you get? Nothing.
At least at
McDonald's you get lunch.
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