The Fast and the Furious

High prices at McDonald's, Taco Bell, and other chains are sparking consumer revolt.

- CHRISTOPHER ZARA

EARLIER THIS YEAR, Allen Watson stopped treating himself to his favorite McDonald's meal: the biscuits-and-gravy combo with a sausage patty and Diet Coke.

A startup cofounder from Myrtle Beach, South Carolina, he says the $11 he spent on the meal one January day finally shocked him into abstinence. "That's crazy to me, because the sit-down restaurants around here are almost the same price," Watson says. For the record, he can afford the 11 bucks. But he was starting to feel "price gouged," he says, and he doesn't like the thought of high-level executives lining their pockets while frontline workers go underpaid.

"I think it's just a perception thing for me," Watson says. "I perceive it to be too expensive, and that's why I've altered my behavior."

His comment perfectly illustrates a growing shift in consumer sentiment that has brought the fast-food industry to its current DEFCON 1 moment. As inflation pushes menu prices steadily upward (a McDonald's medium fries costs 44% more today than it did five years ago), more people are asking themselves if that weekly trip to Taco Bell, Wendy's, or KFC is still worth the cost. For brands that are built on perceived value, sticker shock isn't merely a turnoff, it threatens the very cornerstone of their identity. A Fast Company-Harris Poll survey conducted in June found that convenience was still the most common reason why people ordered from a fast-food restaurant, followed by affordability. The actual taste of the food came third. As tasty as they are, Big Macs, Baconators, Whoppers, and Crunchwrap Supremes depend not on their high quality but on the enduring promise of being fast and cheap. Without those selling points, what even is fast food?