Restaurants generally promote their best dishes. But at In-N-Out Burger, the best dishes are not advertised at all. They’re not even found on the menu—they’re on the ‘secret menu’, which is conveyed via word of mouth. You could go to the drive-thru there for decades without ever knowing about Animal Fries or the Double Double Animal Style Burger, which are strictly superior to their non-animal cousins.
Some question this decision. Some suffer for it. On Twitter, I’ve seen one particularly sad scenario play out twice and it’s probably happened hundreds of times. Someone tweets that they finally went to In-N-Out and that it wasn’t good, with a photo of their cheeseburger. A reply guy says, “oh why didn’t you get animal style,” then the tweeter says “what’s animal style,” to which reply guy responds, “comes with grilled onions and sauce, it’s on the secret menu,” to which tweeter replies with a series of incoherent screams. I get it. In the land of retail that gets you what you want with breathtaking effectiveness, actively hiding good food from you is a weird decision.
Except it’s not that weird—it’s the kind of genius move that’s only obvious in retrospect. In N’ Out has managed to make you feel like you’re special just by selling you a burger. When you order off the secret menu, a part of you goes, ‘haha, fuck yeah, I know the secret,’ even if you know that every other Angeleno does too.
Making someone feel special is an extremely effective interpersonal tactic. Everyone likes to feel special. Young people want it more but nobody would refuse feeling chosen, selected, set apart. It’s true of every living being that our consciousness is incommensurate to the tiny shred of it we put on display—so, of course, there is some part of us always lurking out of sight.
This is why you should be careful about anyone or anything that’s highly skilled at making you feel like you’re part of a special class. That’s how sociopaths get you: “I usually have such a hard time connecting with people, but you, I can really talk to you.” That’s how prestige institutions get you, by recognizing your supposed excellence, and escorting you towards an ostensible elite. Even a well-written email sequence can evoke this sensation. You’re not deficient or pathetic—in fact, you deserve better than the trap you’re living in—now pay $500 for my stock pick newsletter.
Anyone who promises to place you in a special club should attract your skepticism. The real special clubs don’t advertise like that. And they’re certainly not going to go out of their way to flatter or court you, unless you’re someone whose power they’re afraid of.
This sinister pattern pops up again and again in the aspirational age. It can lead you to commit terrible evils. It works best on those who are insecure—people who need to be told who they are.
But it’s probably okay when a burger chain does it.
Poetic. As if it is a dramatic retelling on the sociopath-clueless (or elite-gentry, or opportunist-idealist) conflict. Overinflated expectations are exactly what "midwit" thinking is, which makes one vulnerable to bespoke tricks. The worst trick is a crowd of clueless men who need to tend for themselves however.
https://alexdanco.com/2021/01/22/the-michael-scott-theory-of-social-class/
https://www.ribbonfarm.com/2009/10/07/the-gervais-principle-or-the-office-according-to-the-office/