Subway is one of the few global franchises that has taken roots in Bangor, Pennsylvania (or Pen Argyl, or Roseto, or Wind Gap, depending on who you ask). Clearly everyone wants a piece of this footlong.
Unfortunately some want their sub with lettuce, tomato, onion and extra rudeness. For example, the woman who called in her order tonight while there was a line to the door and the fragrant resteraunt was enjoying a balmy 94 degree dining room temperature. I had the pleasure of taking this woman's order and, after carefully jotting down her every wish and whim for her two footlong sanwiches (which she clearly couldn't come in and order like the other peons), I placed the order on the counter to be filled by whomever had the time. In fact, my co-worker got to the order, which was a lucky thing because it slipped my mind in the hustle and bustle of the Monday night rush. Fast forward to about an hour later when nothing could have been further from my mind than said order, but, wait, the phone rings and who could it be? You guessed it, (note to self: must work on transperency in suspensful build-up) it was her, the call-in order woman, demanding was I the one who had taken her order. I non-commitedly admitted that I had taken a few orders that night, but was unable to be sure whether I had taken hers. She was sure, or at least sure enough for her to justify me as the target of her wrath that half of one of the footlongs had lettuce when she had clearly requested no lettuce. Naturally this was very upsetting because her poor son was refusing to eat said half of sandwich because, as everyone knows, lettuce is poisonous to brats who refuse to eat food that is provided for them and also quite volitile, even to the touch, for mothers who cater to said children which must have been why she couldn't take the lettuce off for her (no doubt) starving offspring. She was quick to explain that she didn't want a refund or to have the sandwich made again since she could tell by the "indifferent" tone of my voice that her business was not important to me (not to self: must work on transperency in voice). Rather, she merely wanted to call to tell me that I should take my job a little more seriously. Toning my sarcasm meter as low as it would go, I replied, "Thank you for telling me," and was rewarded with the overdue click of her phone hanging up. I can only attribute such a prize to my restraint.
Overall I was delighted that someone else appreciates how important a business sandwich making is. They don't call us Sandwich Artists for nothing.
P.S. To the lovely gentleman who told me that I was supposed to heat the meat up in the microwave first, not just the toaster which is "just for bread" (not that it has settings for each type of meat or anything); to youI would like to say, firstly that your telling your girlfriend, or possibly- god help her,wife- that you had to leave because you were going to fight me was the highlight of my day. And, second, to your "This isn't the first time I've been to Subway I know what I'm talking about" bit I would merely like to respond that I hope that it was in fact your last time.
