(missing - stacked sandwich. if seen, call sandwich artist)
My six year old wouldn't know the old Jared Fogle from the new one, but still has some kind of thing for SubWay. Personally, I've never had one of their sandwiches that even remotely
resembled the ones on their advertisements. You know those really stacked conglomerations of
meat, dressings and maybe a sprinkle of lettuce? Then the pimpled teenager hands you the actual finished product and you literally have to open the sandwich up to make sure it's not a veggie.
I digress.
Conner decided the other day that SubWay was on the menu. I didn't argue, even though IHOP had free small stacks goin' on. I even let her take the lead at the counter. But as she struggled her way through the menu and the endless options of toppings, condiments and the all important toasted or not? question, I kept getting peppered with questions from the 16 year old sandwich artist behind the counter.
I could use this space to wonder whether or not the kid was legal or not in Uncle Sammie's eyes. I could also use the next several paragraphs to explain the importance of learning a native language before you enter a customer service driven field. But let's suffice it to say that this kid was being pushy.
I wasn't in the mood to be pushed towards the register when my little girl was learning the art of making a dinner selection. Especially when there was one (ONE!!) person behind us...and that guy is on his phone no where near ready to order.
After giving the kid a look that said something between Shut up! and Take those handy bag gloves on your hands and CHOKE on them, tensions simmered. On the plus side I split a footlong BMT with my princess and it had more than two slices of salami. And Conner learned that when you can see the person prepare your food from start to finish, there's really no reason to go at their pace.
Needless to say...next time it's IHOP. Pass the syrup.
Anyhoo...that diatribe got me thinking about the overwhelming urgency towards something called an end in our society today. And this blawgger believes it is spilling over too freely into collegiate athletics.
I know college football especially is a business. Believe me...I understand. And trust me when I say I share in the desire for a MNC (parlance for mythical national championship) for our beloved Dawgs. But I continue to be amazed at the growing number of fans (fevered, frenzied fanatics may be more accurate) who believe that if Georgia isn't national champion tomorrow when they wake up, Richt and his staff should be fired. And Evans can go too!
The fact that the next season hasn't started is beside the fact. By the time the sun rises again, I wanna be a national champion! GimmeGimmeGimme!
CMR is doing just fine. These (again I use the term loosely) fans are either too young or too ignorant to remember the Goff years. We have grown from a team that hopes to win each game to a team that expects to win each game (and actually has a shot at succeeding).
So to all those fanatics: chill out, find another team...or go work at SubWay.