Call In Your Damn Order!

Today we are not discussing world politics, it is time to take on an even greater evil--the bastard at Subway that walks in with fifteen orders!

I stopped by one of the eight thousand Subways in the Oklahoma City metro area today to purchase a refreshing, no taste, is as yummy as paper, Subway $5 sandwich. It is Sunday. There is no business crowd. I dedicated five minutes to this adventure. But no!

As I was walking into the store, I decided to be nice and polite and hold the door for some lady that might possibly be Susan Boyle's long lost sister. Yes, she had the face of Medusa and the body of a rhino, but chivalry is blind--right? I followed the shuffling beast to the front of the line to order my usual turkey sub. But hold on, the lady I just opened the door for pulled out an order list that would have made Santa stand in awe!

Now remember there are only two patrons in this "restaurant"--me and Mrs. Evil! She knows she's ordering enough sandwiches to feed Oliver's orphanage, but did she offer to let me jump ahead of her in line. No! I bet you are asking, "Why didn't you leave and find lunch someplace else?" I tell you why--a pure shot of rage is worth more than that crappy $5 sub! I couldn't, out of shock, anger, and dogged determination, walk away from this moment.

At approximately 12:32 p.m., old ugly started a run on the Subway rations. Oh but it gets better--she wanted each sandwich to be charged separately. By now I am glaring at this Oompa Loompa and praying that she would spontaneously combust or maybe remember she left her purse in the car. But not today! I moved to the side of the counter hoping that I could find a hidden employee on the phone, but no good. There was only one poor soul working the counter.

I looked at the sandwich goddess with pleading eyes thinking that she might intervene and suggest that I order first, but nope. This woman acted like she was working on commission! She was so excited you would think that Subway was about to give her a new trailer home. So what could I do besides retreat? Nothing, this was a fast food stalemate. I just stood there for fifteen minutes and twenty-two seconds before the sandwiches were wrapped and loaded at the register. (That time does not include individual cash purchases and the fumbling of change.)

Somehow I made it through this event without jumping behind the counter and throwing knives at Mrs. Poster Child For Abstinence. But my Zen like patience paid off and I walked out of Subway at close to one o'clock.

Why am I telling you this story? The truth is I have nothing else to write about, but I also present this as proof that good deeds do go unnoticed. In fact if I had it to do all over again, I would have parked so close to that witch that she would have had to get out of her car through the passenger door. Oh she could have banged on my Honda all she wanted with her door, but it wouldn't matter, my car should be taken to a field and shot anyhow.

I learned a valuable lesson. From now on Subway is not to be considered a family friendly neutral place to eat. Oh no! Subway is mortal combat! If you want to get in and out of there quickly you have to do some recon before entering. If you see somebody wearing stretch shorts, you run for that door even if you have to stiff arm them because chances are they are either ordering for a small army or they were the low person on the totem poll and were sent to order for a company that employs at least 50 hungry people.

This isn't my first rodeo with the line Grinch. Nope not at all. Another Suspect that must be watched carefully are persons dressed in scrubs. Yes, just last Thursday I stopped into one of the Subways downtown for lunch. But a man in scrubs from St. Anthony's hospital was in line with a blackberry full of orders. What prevented my newly reconstructed heart from exploding right there on the spot was the expert reaction of a business district Subway worker. She bumped me in front of Mr. Piss Pot and I was out of there in short order.

I know that some of you have experienced these vile human glitches in Mr. Darwin's theory, whether at a Subway or at your local grocery store. But I say enough is enough. If the rest of the people suffering through this injustice didn't act like they were in an old Soviet food line, we could stop this abuse. How? Well very simple. There are fliers all over Subways offering to fill orders via facsimile or email. Ah ha! It is time we employ some old fashion democratic values and toss these vermin out the door with a flier stapled to their forehead. Then we could all order and eat our paper sandwich in peace.

Well it has been nice, but I'm late for anger management class.