Michael, don't Bogart that!
Whenever my body aches for something healthy and nutritious, I head for the Subway fast-food outlet, and spring for a Veggie lite sub.
Not a big meat-eater, I prefer to munch on a honey oat sandwich packed with lettuce, American Cheese slices (pass on the Swiss, after all, 'ya get less cheese what with the holes 'n all), tomatoes, cucumbers, onions (provided it's not date night), green pepper, pickles, and a few shavings of avocado (fattening, yes, but it packs a wallop in the protein department), and topped with a dash of pepper and Honey Mustard.
Was it my imagination, or were there a posse of students from UCLA snapping up the footlongs that studly spokesperson - Olympic Gold Medalist Michael Phelps - has been pushing lately?
For some inexplicable reason, when the server asked if I'd like the sandwich toasted (on the heels of slapping the ultra-thin cheese slices - cheap basta**s - on the fresh tasty bread, I enthusiastically piped up "yes".
Normally, I passed.
The pretty little gal opened an over door just over her shoulder, plopped in the sandwich she was in the throes of building, and waited a second or two.
In a jiffy, she flipped it back out onto the counter, then wrapped up the fully-loaded sub tailored precisely for me.
The cashier rang up the charges, but the total was not a pleasing one to my ears.
Because I am inclined by habit to snack on the same offering each week - over time it has become an easy task to rattle off the price in my own mind - since the cost of the snack only went up once (by about thirty cents) since the beginning of the year.
Imagine my surprise when the employee rang up a charge that was fifty cents higher than usual.
"Did the prices go up," I innocently asked, to ensure there wasn't any error and that I wasn't being ripped off by an inexperienced staffer new on the job.
"You had the sub toasted, didn't you?"
My jaw just about fell to the floor.
The subway fast-food outlet was tacking on a surcharge of fifty cents to flip the sandwich into an open oven for a second or two?
Gosh, who knew that a wrist flip - and a few waves of heat - were such an expensive commodity, 'til now.
As politely as possible, I informed the cashier I'd pass on the toasting option, next visit.
Provided I return, that is.
I may be hungry for a sub now and then, but I'm also nobody's fool!
Not a big meat-eater, I prefer to munch on a honey oat sandwich packed with lettuce, American Cheese slices (pass on the Swiss, after all, 'ya get less cheese what with the holes 'n all), tomatoes, cucumbers, onions (provided it's not date night), green pepper, pickles, and a few shavings of avocado (fattening, yes, but it packs a wallop in the protein department), and topped with a dash of pepper and Honey Mustard.
Was it my imagination, or were there a posse of students from UCLA snapping up the footlongs that studly spokesperson - Olympic Gold Medalist Michael Phelps - has been pushing lately?
For some inexplicable reason, when the server asked if I'd like the sandwich toasted (on the heels of slapping the ultra-thin cheese slices - cheap basta**s - on the fresh tasty bread, I enthusiastically piped up "yes".
Normally, I passed.
The pretty little gal opened an over door just over her shoulder, plopped in the sandwich she was in the throes of building, and waited a second or two.
In a jiffy, she flipped it back out onto the counter, then wrapped up the fully-loaded sub tailored precisely for me.
The cashier rang up the charges, but the total was not a pleasing one to my ears.
Because I am inclined by habit to snack on the same offering each week - over time it has become an easy task to rattle off the price in my own mind - since the cost of the snack only went up once (by about thirty cents) since the beginning of the year.
Imagine my surprise when the employee rang up a charge that was fifty cents higher than usual.
"Did the prices go up," I innocently asked, to ensure there wasn't any error and that I wasn't being ripped off by an inexperienced staffer new on the job.
"You had the sub toasted, didn't you?"
My jaw just about fell to the floor.
The subway fast-food outlet was tacking on a surcharge of fifty cents to flip the sandwich into an open oven for a second or two?
Gosh, who knew that a wrist flip - and a few waves of heat - were such an expensive commodity, 'til now.
As politely as possible, I informed the cashier I'd pass on the toasting option, next visit.
Provided I return, that is.
I may be hungry for a sub now and then, but I'm also nobody's fool!
Hold the toast, please!
No comments:
Post a Comment