Do you hear that? Â That's the sound of my mouth and stomach weeping from disappointment and loss of appetite. Â Why do I come here, again? Â Oh, yeah. Â Convenience. Â Three strikes, this Subway's out! Â
First strike:
Winter time, employee's got a cold. Â They wear gloves, right? Â The looks of this particular employee gave me the heebie-jeebies and I instantly imagined all sorts of scenarios where he didn't wash his hands. Â Perhaps just thinking about it made me psychosomatically get a cold. Â Either way, I wasn't feeling too great about the guy, nor the subsequent cold. Â The sandwich, also, was 'meh.' Â STRIKE ONE!
Second Strike:
I found a freakin' staple in my sandwich!! Â Where the heck would a staple come from?! Â They don't staple the wrapping or the bag. Â Must have happened through some horrific cross-contamination or flying office supplies incident. Â Maybe the "chef" thought it added something to the flavor of the turkey. Â Sandwich goes unfinished and into the trash. Â My patronage should have ended here. Â STRIKE TWO!!
Third and Final Strike:
About a year later (on this sunny afternoon, to be exact), I'd forgotten all about the staple incident, and needed to pick up something quickly before getting back to the office. Â I could go out of my way to get a relatively decent snack from the Mart or a nearby restaurant and then double back....Nah, Subway's right here. Â
Long line, but I tried to make this a pleasant experience -- politely ordered and smiled to maybe give the lifeless workers a boost. Â My poor zombie employees weren't havin' it. Â Seems like they all banded together in boredom or lethargy. Â No biggie. Â I get that one: working in customer service blows.
Then, what do you know? Â The well was dry of turkey. Â No problem. Â Our anti-hero employee at the end of the line grabs a package from the cooler and knifes open (using the same knife on the bread, mind you) the turkey slices pre-packaged in plastic and plops the stack down into the well. Â Problem solved. Â Instant turkey! Â We're on our way to making a deliciously sub-par sub-sandwich, stale bread and all. Â Another sandwich bites the dust, because that's what it tasted like. Â Dust. Â You too, in the trash, Sandwich. Â I'm throwing this Subway in the trash. Â Perhaps all Subways. Â STTEEEEERRRRIIIKE!!! Â YOU'RE OUTTA THERE!
Never again. Â If you see me heading towards their door, please shoot me. Â I'll even give you the gun.