subway: made to order, like it or not

Do you remember that Peanuts strip that said “Happiness is a warm puppy?”

That was so cute.

I’ve been coming up with my own little sayings this weekend. Like, “Parenthood is a peanut butter cracker in your underwear drawer.” And “Subway is a substandard sandwich franchise that smells not unlike toasted armpits.”

I’ve had it with these sandwich places, too. It’s not like I expect a lot from a place like Subway, but I figure if I am paying you for lunch, I shouldn’t have to teach you how to make it.

Yesterday I ordered the Ham and Turkey Club on wheat, straight off the menu board. I even pointed to make myself clear.

The sandwich artist grabbed a six inch wheat roll and stared at me blankly. “What do you want on it?”

“I don’t know. How about let’s start with HAM. And then, I know! Let’s go all nuts and add some TURKEY.”

She slaps on the ham and the turkey. Another expectant stare. “What else?”

Breaking protocol, I order the rest of the ingredients all at once, just as they appear on the menu. “Lettuce, tomato, cheese and a generous helping of crispy bacon, please.”

She placed the lettuce and tomato.

Now it was a game of chicken. Who would be first to mention the cheese?

Not me, sister. (Snap!)

Her lip curls. “You want cheese on there?”

“Why yes, thank you for asking.”

“Bacon?”

“Sure, why not?”

“Mayo or mustard on that?”

Sigh. “Mayo.”

It’s exhausting.

Then I ordered a Subway Classic Melt for Larry.

Vapid stare.

“Do you want that hot or cold?”