I might have to curtail my semi-weekly trips to Subway. In theory it's good for lowering my fat intake, but I'm not sure my blood pressure can handle it.
I love the house-that-Jared-built as much as the next guy, but interacting with the other $5 footlong fans about does me in. Subway's whole catch is building a sandwich the way you like it. I get that. No olives? Sure! Extra lettuce? Knock yourself out! But some people take this freedom of choice to a whole new level, and it takes every calming thought I can muster to keep me from activating Beast Mode all over their whiny, demanding asses.
- A woman today got into a heated debate on whether or not wanting another cheese slice constitutes "extra", as in she'd have to pay the additional .30 for her provolone. One cheese slice. Thirty cents. People that argue anything under a dollar should be beaten with blunt objects and sterilized on the spot. Fact.
-Also today, a guy asked if the woman making the sandwich could spread out the pickles more evenly. There were six people behind him in line, including the Great Cheese Battle of '09. Seriously? And yes, I can check myself and admit it probably took her an additional ten seconds to reorganize his pickle situation, but it's not about me. I had nothing but time. It's the principle of the matter. Really sir? REALLY? If you're that OCD / fussy, do us all a favor and stay home. You can get out the jar of pickles and a ruler and blow your anal-retentive wad all over your sandwich. But don't be the Demanding Douche of Petty Town in public. It's unbecoming.
-Those two space-wasters are nothing compared to my favorite guy from last week though. He had that sort of older, pompous, part-time professor look about him that screams self-importance.
appalled, when the minimum wage sandwich stuffer couldn't succinctly describe the economic strategies of the company.
Now I don't speak much Spanish, and Maria doesn't speak much English, but there is a universal expression understood worldwide that screams:
Ugh. It only gets to me because of the years I've spent on the other side of the counter. It takes so little to be a good customer, and in turn a good person. Smile. Say please and thank you. Be attentive and follow directions. Maria and Connie and Luz, they're people too, and because I treat them like humans we've become friends. Even though you might feel the urge to get huffy and demeaning because you're older/whiter/richer/smarter, whatever, just remember that service employees are humans, not droids. They feel happy, and sad, and most importantly, they all understand how to fuck with what goes in your mouth in ways you can't even begin to comprehend.
So as Burger King used to say....have it your way. But don't shit on the hand that feeds you.