The woman who works at Subway is on a mission to ruin my lunch hour. I always ask her to go light on the oil and vinegar, but every single time she pours it all over the bread like she’s washing a fucking car! I’ve fucking had it with her. For fuck’s sake, get it together, man! By the time I get back to work and unwrap my sandwich, it’s like someone threw it in a fucking pool. This soggy shitlog of a sandwich is now a gloppy mess and falling apart.
How difficult is this task? “Light on the oil and vinegar.” Should I fucking write it down for her next time? And I know she’s toying with my emotions, like most sandwich artists are capable of doing. She fucking knows she’s supposed to go light, but she just doesn’t care. I can see it in her eyes.
I could just order the oil and vinegar on the side—but that’s not the point and, despite what you might have heard, I’m not Meg Ryan. As a consumer I really don’t ask for much, I don’t care if someone provides me with friendly customer service, but all I do ask is that my order is correct, that my simple request is honored and meets my satisfaction. This is the stripped down, bare bones, basic aim for customer service! Don’t send me back to work to eat a soaked shitlog and expect me to take it lying down!
I like Subway, okay. I enjoy seeing the fat content on the menu. I like that it costs me under $5. I like eating a mountain of veggies on my sandwich and the way it makes me feel 39.6% better about myself—I like that I’ve cut French fries out of my life. But this sandwich-artist-shit-for-brains is testing me. She might as well slap me in the face with a cheeseburger, strap handfuls of scalding, greasy French fries under my armpits, cram warm apple fritters into my ears, and then tell me to drag my sorry ass down the block to McDonalds.
“Could you please go light with the oil and vinegar?”
She looks at me like I asked her to magically pull a happy meal out of her ass.
10 Unique Gasps:
It's like having the audacity to ask for something without gravy at a Cracker Barrel. Hoo, boy.
this is your fault. two guys grille! nikkis! endless options!!!
besides, i know they have that bread in those ovens, but i think it's a racket. that's not real bread; or if it is, that's not a real oven. their bread is like cement. the tiling is bad and so is the lighting.
this comment is not worth the zillion letters i have to enter to get your approval to post it.
p.s. isn't end of reason the subtitle to the second bridget jones book?
tmglvkldm??? you can't be serious.
I LOVE the subway bread. It is real. And those other places are too expensive to eat on a regular basis.
oh no he didn't!
H, you're like Daryl Hall without Oats.
Check out my website.
yes, thank you mamie fan--we've been wondering where our title came from. mamie, get yr people on the ball. and i'm pretty sure it's oates and why am I darryl and... wait, this IS mamie isn't it?
Wooo oh here she comes. Watch out, boy, she'll chew you up.
HA!!!!!!!! this shit is f'n great!!!!!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!
oh my god this entry made me laugh so hard.
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