Since I know you all like me to regale you with tales from the soul-sucking sandwich shop known as Subgay Eat Balls...I mean...you know what I mean, and also since I am wired on an extra large cup o' joe- thank you 7-11 for your "any size coffee for 99 cents after noon" deal, here are some thoughts on Subway deux, Philly style bay-bay.
In a quick aside, thank you to whoever keeps repeatedly listening to "Love the Way You Lie" in the apartment above me. Luckily, and I'm not too ashamed to admit this, I've been hype on this song all week. Peace and love.
Allow me to explain, first and foremost, that Subway Bangor Plaza and Subway North Philadelphia are very different places. The main difference, of course, is the clientele. While we certainly get some crazies up North in B-town, they truly have nothing on some of the characters we are expected to serve with a smile here in los ghetto. For example, there is the lovable man who comes in every two weeks or so and stands at the counter ranting in a mixture of English syllables and jibberish. Now, he fully expects us to translate whatever it is that he's conveying into a sandwich order. While this may at times be disturbing or a nuisance, depending on how the night is going, it is also a wonderful opportunity to express one's Sandwich Artist creativity. Whatever you make, you can generally convince him was exactly what he asked for. And, since, when he reaces the register he will considerately dump the contents of his pockets and wallet onto the counter, it is a pleasure to ring him up and make sure he pays the correct amount. Beware though if you make him wait to long, because in his mind, he was always there first and always has already ordered. There are no lines for this veteran- which, I might add, is the only fact I've ever gathered from his ramblings- no, sir.
Then there are the students- this is Temple after all. These customers fall across the board. We have our grunting football players- double meat all the way for these hungry athletes, hey, it's on the school's dollar anyway. There are the hipsters- don't even think about asking them to remove their Bose headphones so they can hear you ask "American, Swiss or provolone?" There are the nightly Indians- veggie sub, duh! don't forget to change your gloves and extra of all souces. The students who come in with their parents, usually freshman, who are obviously not from around here and tend to be disturbed by their fellow customers and my Sandwich Artist team. Often these will appeal to me with fearful, pleading eyes as they struggle to determine what, "You want some of this jawn, or this here?" even means. Get with the program folks, you're not in Kansas anymore, and yes, your precious baby will get shot. All of these student-customers have some things in common such as they do not know if we take Diamond dollars (look at the door, people) and they do not intend to throw their garbage in the trash can, unless the trash is already overflowing- monkey see monkey do? or, an affinity for excess?
Wow, writing that was almost as much of a chore as enduring a 9 pm rush at the Sub hub. Stop by and see me any night at this beloved place of employment. And, go ahead and do the five dollar footlong song/hand gesture, I dare you.
No comments:
Post a Comment