BOGO Day at Subway – Pt. 3: Frustration

Okay folks, if you haven’t done so you need to read THIS BLOG and THIS BLOG to get the back story here. Or you can just read this one and miss out on what’s already happened in this thread. Here we go…


Time: 3:19pm

The hustleman induced laughter had just about died down both amongst the Subway patrons and the workers and things had returned to normal. I was looking over the menu when I heard something all too familiar; it was the unmistakable sound of an impatient Black female sucking her teeth. Having grown up in the house with my two older sisters I learned early that when you hear that sound the probability is better than 70% that there’s about to be some raised voices in the room in a short matter of time. The woman a couple of spots ahead of me in line was standing arms folded with a huge Michael Kors bag on her shoulder. When I say huge I mean that an airline would have to measure it to make sure that it would fit in an overhead compartment before a commercial airline flight. It was a nice bag but far too big for a neighborhood jaunt to Subway for a sandwich; Aside from her ridiculously large bag the very next thing that I noticed were her eyelashes which were Disney character long – Bambi, Lady from Lady and the Tramp, Ariel the Little Mermaid – they all would have killed to have the eyelashes that this lady had glued to her eyelids. While her lashes were attached to perfection, the eyes they adorned were currently shooting darts into the back of the gentleman in front of her.

The man standing there in his jeans and red polo shirt was holding in his hand a crumpled piece of paper onto which the orders for four sandwiches were written by, from my vantage point 6 feet behind him, by a person with rooster claws for hands. Aside from the chicken scratch the ink appeared to be smudged a bit, perhaps from the paper having been in his pocket for the drive to Subway, so deciphering the order became a task to much for the man to bear. Here is a portion of their paraphrased back and forth.

Customer: I need a Turkey Breast and Ham Sub on white bread with cheddar cheese and I need you to toast it. Then I need a…wait a minute…that said “Roast” not “toast”, the second sandwich is a Roast Beef with American cheese.
Worker: So you want the Turkey Breast and Ham toasted?
Customer: No, I need a Roast Beef sandwich.
Worker: I know, but do you want your Turkey and Ham sub toasted?
Customer: No. Just the sandwich on white bread. No toast.
Worker: What kind of bread do you want for the Roast Beef?
Customer: I think this says wheat. Y’all have wheat bread in here?
Worker: Yes we do.
Customer: Okay then, put it on wheat because I think that’s what they wrote down here.

Worker: Do you want sandwich toasted?
Customer: The Turkey?
Worker: No…Sir, the Roast Beef! *agitated*
Customer: Nah, I don’t think I need it toasted. *15 seconds passes* You know what, go ahead and toast it, he likes his sandwiches toasted at the house so go ahead and put it in the oven.
Worker: *more agitated, to her fellow “sandwich artist”* Wait, don’t put no lettuce on that roast beef yet, he want it toasted
Worker #2: *now he’s agitated* Why didn’t you say you wanted it toasted?
Worker: *perhaps starting to boil a little bit inside* He didn’t say until just now…DANG!
Worker #2: *removes lettuce from sandwich and places in the oven*

During that brief exchange between the Subway employees the Customer has retrieved his cell phone and is talking; he has apparently called his home to see if the roast beef should be toasted. *20 seconds passes*

Customer: Nah, my bad, don’t toast that Roast Beef.
Subway High Speed Toaster Oven: *DING*
Worker: Too late.
Customer: Damn. You toasted it already.
Worker:  *Mt. Vesuvius is rumbling inside her* You said to toast it, sir!
Customer: Alright then. He’ll live I guess.
Worker: Okay, can you move down? They will finish your sandwiches on the other end.
Customer: I have two more orders!

**This is when the lady with the amber waves of grain eyebrows and carry on luggage tried to suck the enamel off her teeth**

Worker: Two more sandwiches. *takes a deep breath* Okay, what other sandwiches do you need?
Customer: *looks over crumpled piece of paper at remaining orders, also written in Rooster-like penmanship* I need a foot long meatball sub on white bread and the last one is, ummm, this one is a salad…
Worker: Sir, our buy one get one free offer is only for sandwiches.
Customer: But all the sandwiches can be made into a salad, right? It’s all the same thing.
Worker: Our sign says that it’s only for sandwiches, sir.
Customer: *deep sigh* Are you sure you can’t do that? Don’t seem like a big thing

Worker: *calls back to the manager somewhere out of sight in the back of the store* MIKE! HEY MIKE!
Manager Mike: *from back of store, unseen* YEAH!
Manager Mike: WHAT?!
Manager Mike: HE WANT A SALAD?
Worker: YES!

*pause for 5 seconds*


*The lady with the inhuman eyelashes has retrieved her phone from the Michael Kors carry-on and is talking loudly now about the goings on.*

Eyelash Lady: I can’t believe these folk in this Subway, taking all day with 6 or 7 different orders holding up the line all damn day. It’s just rude!

Worker: What kind of salad would you like, Sir?
Customer: I need a tuna salad. Don’t toast it though.
Worker: *looking for sharp objects* We don’t toast salads.
Customer: I was just making sure before they threw it in the oven like that roast beef.
Worker: *throws sharp daggers with her eyes* Is there anything else, sir?
Customer: Nah, that’s all.
Worker: Okay, move down and they will dress your sandwiches – and your salad – down there.

At 3:32 the man in the jeans and red polo shirt exited the Subway store with his three subs and his one salad that required a managerial override at checkout. Two minutes later at 3:34 the eyelash monster with the oversized Michael Kors baggage walked out of the store with her two subs that she ordered without having courtesy to hang up from her aforementioned phone call.

It was almost my turn; it certainly wouldn’t be long now. Then the young man in line in front of me with sagging blue basketball shorts and a white wifebeater stepped up and said to the horribly stressed Subway sandwich artist:

‘Ey, shawty, what up wit’ dis special y’all havin’ up in here? How it work?”

The clock on the wall read 3:35

To be continued…

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