And From the Lame Excuse Department Comes. . .
After a strenuous two hours of hapkido, complete with mega-bruised forearms, I opted for a quick stop at Subway, because I like to Eat Fresh, and Jared is apparently some sort of weight loss god because he discovered a low fat diet and walking means less pounds. Pure genius.
Well, anyway, I was waiting in line, knowing full well that I wanted a turkey breast foot long sub on wheat bread (lettuce, tomatoes, onions and green peppers), but the sandwich artist on duty received a phone call from his girlfriend, so I had to wait. I love waiting in line, especially when I get the chance to hear a sandwich artist make kissy-face noises into a phone. Midway through his six minute chat, I heard the following:
SANDWICH ARTIST: No, I don't want to cook tomorrow. I do enough cooking here at work.
Cooking? I think not. Cutting a phallic-shaped piece of bread lengthwise, piling on pre-cut food items, and slathering mayonaisse and oil on it does not constitute cooking. I don't care if there is ocassionally the need to use a microwave to heat up squiggles of bacon, it still does not make you a cook in even the loosest sense of the word.
Oh, and for the record, I would protest having to wear those Sandwich Artist subway shirts, because there is no art school in the nation that specializes in the art of the sandwich. Few modern art critics sit around and mull whether the sandwich falls in with the greater cubism works of Picasso or whether it is more in the surreal realm of Salvadore Dali. I have never seen an art gallery featuring a Subway sandwich, although I would call it something witty, like "You Want a Drink or Chips With That?"
I am in no way disparaging those that work in the Subway chain. Having worked in a grocery store for three years myself, I understand the irritation inherent in putting up with impatient souls. I guess I'm just mad that my sandwich was put on hold so he could chat with his girlfriend.
What an asshole.
Posted by Ryan at September 11, 2002 12:01 PM
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