Eat the Megan

Looking through some of my previous posts, I'm surprised that I have neglected to discuss Subway.

The women at Subway love Tom and me. There's Debbie, who is probably in her late 40s, early 50s; the cute blond girl, who is probably in her early 20s and is dating a guy who works at the same place that Tom and I do; and the man who Tom and Mike have deemed Chips-and-a-Drink Guy (because he usually runs the cash register during the lunch hour and never neglects to say "Do you want chips and a drink?" before taking your money).

If Debbie likes you, she teases you. If she likes you and you're female, she calls you Missy because it gives some familiarity without having to remember your name. If the Cute Blond Girl likes you, she smiles while she adds the toppings to your sandwich; if Chips-and-a-Drink Guy likes you, he tries to guess what sandwich you ordered. Tom and I are so in with them.

Tom and I go to Subway at least once a week. We didn't discover how much they liked us until the week the toaster oven broke. When people found out that the toaster oven was going to be out of commission for a few days, they decided to go elsewhere for lunch. Tom and I are dedicated -- we eat our sandwiches toasted or untoasted. The place was deserted during the middle of the lunch hour, which rarely happens, so we had a chance to talk with Debbie and Cute Blond Girl (Chips-and-a-Drink Guy was mysteriously absent for several weeks, leading Tom to worry as to what sort of fate had met Chips-and-a-Drink Guy). Debbie and Cute Blond Girl referred to us as being "some of our favorite customers" because apparently we're polite and always smiling when we come in. Cute Blond Girl told me that I was the first unsnobby girl she had met from the company where we work. They then proceeded to give us free cookies.

Anyway, this past Friday, Tom and I made a stop at Subway. We walked in right before the rush started, making us the head of the line.

Now, I have to preempt what I'm about to say here with the statement that I realize that my taste buds are not five star. I've been known to eat the same thing for dinner weeks in a row with no variance. Just like my Subway sandwich: I've found something that works, and I stick with it. Tom finds this a little odd, and occasionally he'll poke fun at me for doing so. The Subway women think this is hilarious.

On Friday, I ordered what Tom now deems "The Megan": turkey on six-inch wheat bread, provologne cheese, toasted, with lettuce, green peppers, black olives, just a few onions, mayonnaise, and salt-and-pepper. I order it the same way, in this exact order, every time; it just makes sense as this is how the condiments are arranged from left to right in the topping line.

Debbie and Cute Blond Girl know that I order the same sandwich; I like to think that they think it's endearing. But Tom turned to Debbie on this particular day and said "Hmm, I think I'll have The Megan as well." And proceeded to order my sandwich, which immediately set me into a tizzy for him mocking me, and caused the Subway women to burst into giggles.

The chaos held up the lunch line, and we started getting dirty looks as Tom ordered my sandwich and I shook my fist at him. When he finished, I told Cute Blond Girl that this was what I had to deal with all the time, and she reassured me by saying, "It's okay; he didn't order it as well as you do." Because I say "please" for every topping I ask for and "thank you" once she finishes.

So, really, I have no conclusion for this little story other than the Subway women know Tom and me too well; I could eat the same thing every day; and Tom often eats the veggie patty sandwich, which makes me gag a little. I'll buy your next Subway sandwich if you're the first person to order The Megan and e-mail me to tell me what you think of it. If you can get Subway to name the sandwich after me, I'll buy you two sandwiches from Subway.

Numbers

8 days until Halloween and Allison's birthday.

9 days until I have to be moved out of my apartment.

3 boxes packed.

10 days until Tom's birthday.

11 days until I leave for Hawaii (and see Dujka!!).

18 consecutive days I will have off from work starting November 2.

22 days until Thanksgiving.

24 days until I can move into my new apartment.

27 days since my last post.

6 minutes I spent trying to come up with some incredibly witty number to end the post with, but failed.