By the time this newspaper lands in your mailbox, my life will have undergone a sea change.
For the first time since I moved to Cookeville almost 40 years ago, I’ll be living in the city limits, in a one-story house on a level lot with a fire hydrant in the front yard. There’s not a pond or barn or blackberry-covered hillside or even one goat in sight.
What is in sight—within spitting distance, actually–is Cookeville’s newest McDonald’s, located on the corner of Washington Avenue and Twelfth Street. I used to park in the empty lot where the restaurant now stands to access the Tennessee Central Rail Trail. The rail trail is one reason I was enthusiastic about moving to the neighborhood. Riding my bicycle from home all the way to the Cookeville depot or to the Algood library will be a dream come true.
To celebrate my impending move, two friends and I gathered for breakfast at the new McDonald’s just a couple of days after it opened. Imagine our surprise upon entering the dining room, which is very clean and very bright, to discover no menu posted on the wall behind the cash register. In fact, no one was even working at the cash register.
Three 70-something women looked at each other in dismay.
Not to worry. Within seconds, a cheerful young woman who introduced herself as Hailey Bates emerged from the food-prep area to rescue us.
“Where’s the menu?” we asked in unison.
“Well…it’s on your app,” she replied.
We shook our heads.
“Or I can show you how to order at the kiosks,” she said, leading us to a cluster of machines where we could scroll the menu, order and pay. We’d seen kiosks at fast food restaurants, of course. We’d just never chosen to use one. It’s so much easier to tell a real live person that you want extra ketchup with your fries and lots of ice in your drink than to search for that detail on a screen.
But since Hailey was clearly eager to make our first visit to this brand-new, state-of-the-art McDonald’s an enjoyable one, we were good sports. Each of us chose a breakfast sandwich. No problem. We all said no to hash browns. Still no problem. It was when we began the hunt for senior coffee that we hit a snag. Big time. Even Hailey, who clearly knew what she was doing, couldn’t find it on the kiosk menu. After a couple of frustrating minutes, she looked at us somewhat sheepishly.
“Tell you what,” she said. “How about if you come to the counter and order the old-timey way?”
So that’s what we did. While our breakfasts were being prepared, we found a table and began studying our surroundings in earnest. This didn’t look like any McDonald’s we’d ever seen. It was sleek. It was modern. It was the very definition of minimalist. There was no area dedicated to soft drink dispensers and giant coffee urns. There were no bins filled with cream and sugar and straws and cup lids and ketchup and salt and pepper and plastic knives and forks and spoons. Most amazing of all, there was not even one napkin dispenser in sight.
Five minutes later, Hailey—still smiling–brought breakfast to our table. In her meticulously organized apron pockets were any of the above-mentioned items we might need. The breakfast sandwiches were delicious. The senior coffee was hot and good. And my cup of water was jam-packed with ice, as requested.
So, without a doubt, I’ll return. For years, I hope. Cookeville’s new McDonald’s is my new McDonald’s. Hailey is my new friend. And sooner or later, I’ll probably learn to use the kiosks. I might even download the app.
Because I don’t want to be a dinosaur forever.
(February 28, 2026)