Harvey Guillén

They only release one or two boardwalks for the entire country.

Suddenly, every meal turns into a lottery ticket, making you feel like you were always just one lucky fry box away from never having to work again.

It taps into something primal, the desire to collect and to complete a set.

When the game launches, it causes a frenzy.

People dumpster dive for discarded fry boxes, they trade pieces on early internet forums, and they buy extra hash browns just for the sticker.

Because nothing says I'm an adult making sound financial decisions like eating four orders of deep fried potatoes for the one in a million chance to win a jet ski.

It increases McDonald's sales by 40%.

It's a license to print money.

But printing money requires security.

After all, a single slip of paper could be worth $1 million.

So McDonald's and Simon Marketing don't take any chances.

They treat these stickers like nuclear launch codes.

They hire Dittler Brothers,

a legendary printing firm in Oakwood, Georgia.

These guys don't just print coupons.

They print postage stamps and lottery tickets, meaning they knew something about producing valuable commodities at volume.

At Dibbler Brothers, the floor hums with the sound of Heidelberg web presses running 50,000 sheets per hour.

And the pieces themselves, they're coated in a special scratch-off latex that is chemically designed to disintegrate if you try to lift it with a solvent.

The factory is practically a fortress.

To get to the printing floor, you have to pass through a metal detector.