15 September 2011

I Just Want a Sandwich!

Really. That's all. Just a submarine sandwich from a place that has the best bread around. I can't enter the local big store without drooling because their franchise is right up front and smells totally awesome. My homemade bread never smells like that!

We entered one of these stores yesterday with a little bit of time before our next appointment. Usually half an hour would be enough time to order and to eat the totally awesome sandwich. But, over fifteen minutes was spent in line as one worker decided to start on the next-in-line person's order and forget all about ours, after having us to wait while he finished a few tasks before even taking our order in the first place. We understood that he needed to finish those things before he started our sandwich, but we didn't understand him interrupting the making of our lunch by taking the order of the next person and getting him on out the door in the middle of making our sandwich.

So, we left and the local drive-in carhops got us on down the road as quickly as they always do. They have the best tater-tots around and it is fun watching as the new carhops learn to skate while maneuvering the parking lot with loaded trays and, thankfully, not getting flattened by people that aren't expecting them to pop out from behind the cars.

We had a job to do out of town today, so we decided to try the sandwich shop in the big store in that town. However, the big store folks were against us doing that because we spent probably half an hour waiting for the manager to come and unlock the cage so that we could complete our assignment involving electronics. By the time they came to let us do our job, it was time to pick our daughter up from school, so no sandwich, no lunch, and grumbly tummies times two.

We tried again - the third time in two days!- for that totally awesome sandwich (yes, I've said that three times now, but they are that good!), but at a separate franchise in our town. Things were going fine until the sandwich maker started rubbing his head and scratching his back and making no effort to go to wash his hands or change gloves (if he even had them on in the first place). I don't want to eat his hair or have his back sweat on my sandwich. It takes that bread from being totally awesome down to being icky-fied, in my opinion.

Why is it so bloomin' hard to get bread and veggies around here? Good grief!

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