The Trials and Tribulations of Ordering a Sandwich Vol.2
I'm running low on patience today, so I'll try to keep this post short 'n sweet: These guys are assholes. Okay, okaaay, I'll elaborate, but just enough so that you'll come away saying "Wow, those guys really are assholes."
The problem: Guy #1, I call Mr. Big Stuff. The "stuff" comprised mostly of bullshit. The scary thing...he probably believes his own hype. My remedy: Repeatedly punch the motherfucker in the face with a meat cleaver...lovingly, of course.
Keep in mind that there are 8 other people behind this fucktard and he can barely tear himself away from his conversation with his lackey, to actually ORDER his fuckin' sandwich:
Mr. Big Stuff: (making smartass comments to his friend about how long this is taking, then takes waaay too goddamn long to decide what is is he actually wants on his sub)
Subway employee #1: Would you like sweet onion sauce on that?
Mr. Big Stuff: Looks at employee #1 and says 'Yes,' while simultaneously looking over as employee #2.
Subway employee #2: (trying to get him rung up, so as to get the line moving again) Do you want chips & a drink with that?
Mr. Big Stuff: (looking back at his sub being prepared and goes ballistic upon seeing that she is putting sweet onion sauce on his sub.) Wait! I didn't want THAT!
Subway employee #1: ...but you said 'yes' when I asked you just now...
Mr. Big Stuff: Nooo. No I didn't. I was talking to him (employee #2), you were both talking to me at the same time! Now what?!!
Subway employee #1: (remaining calm) I'll just take it off. {takes it off before he can even ask}
Mr. Big Stuff: How are you going to do that?! (Let's out an exasperated huff of air, then continues muttering about how he didn't want it on his sub, turning to his lackey, reiterating his point about how they were BOTH talking to him at the same time and had he known...etc.)
Subway employee #1: Like that.
So, the cocksucker finally got his sub, paid and got the fuck outta dodge. He goes to sit at a table near the exit, and I eventually get a table facing him about 4 tables away. He's talking so loud and boisterously that I can't help but eavesdrop:
Mr. Big Stuff: ...so she's coming in for an interview tomorrow. I mean, it's not like she has a husband or children or anything. She's not like us (him and his lackey...both wearing wedding bands) She had a boyfriend but we waited for that to die down before calling her back for an interview. She doesn't have a life, which is what we're looking for. Her job is gonna be her life. heh heh heh . And if they (women) have a boyfriend or something we'll just cut back their hours until they get their priorities straight.
And now you know why he should be impaled on a rusty spike.
Anyway, I visit Subway around 9PM one night, and I'm sitting there reading the newspaper when Nancy walks in. First off, a little background. There is a Blockbuster video located directly across the street from this particular Subway...where this guy works, judging from his I.D. tag...yet this guy drove here. What's that about? Secondly...
The woman preparing the subs asks him what he would like to order and he orders two different types of subs. When she asks what kind of bread, he draws a blank...for a long time...laughing about how he forgot to ask and how he needs to call and find out (Stand back! This is a high-priority phonecall!)
So he gets out his cellphone and calls...and he laughs and jokes, reminisces about the good ol' days, reads them a bedtime story...okay, maybe not those last two, but still. He continues to laugh and joke around with whoever is on the other end of the phone (presumably another employee at Blockbuster)...for like FOUR minutes. It may not seem like long to you, but when you are trying to get other things done and the only thing standing between you and completing a transaction, four minutes is a LONG time to wait.
Then it dawns on him why he called: "Oh! What kind of bread do you want?" Then more laughing, and kidding around...3 minutes later he gets off the phone and tells the woman, who's attempting to prepare his subs: "White." Aaaaaiiiigggh!!!! I wanted to pick up one of those heavy chairs and beat him unconscious! People like this need to just die and stop wasting oxygen. I'll never understand people. Manners are truly dead. R.I.P.
Ugh, so much for "short n sweet." Oh well, 1 outta 2 ain't bad.
To read Volume 1, click here.
3 Comments:
One day, when gas has reached $15 a gallon, and Dubyah has somehow managed to bypass term limits for reelection, and anarchy runs wild in the streets... we'll be able to get away with euthanizing the stupid because they consume valuable resources needed by the rest of us.
I anticipate such action will cut the world population by at least half... possibly 60-70%.
Who am I kidding. We'll be lucky to salvage 5% of the human race.
Reason #378 why:
a: Sarah is not allowed to own a gun.
b: Sarah and Kirk should never go out together in public together because Sarah doesn't give a shit and whatever Kirk says, she will say to the assholes....
Take care.
Dave2-
Oh dear Lord, don't even hoke about about shrub bypassing a term limit! Unfathomable!
But the part about euthanasia sounds like some kind of utopia! Can we also implement a mandatory sterilization? 'cause, as you know, the 'tards just keep on reproducing like rabbits. I'm still amazed that people that can barely take care of one child, continue to have 2-4 more. Sigh. I say we take a cue from Jonathan Swift's 'A Modest Proposal,' and harvest them as food.
Terri-
What, a simple "Please stand back until you've decided what it is you'd like to order, so that others can place their orders." wouldn't suffice? LOL!
I second your comment about "What did we ever do before we could use a cell phone to call home and check on every single little thing?" Jesus Christ on a cracker! No SHIT! I often wonder what would happen if these people had to go without their precious cellphones for one day, if they would even survive. Fuckin' retards!
And EXACTLY. Even though I ALWAYS say "no tomato" or "root beer," sometimes they do put tomato on it or I get Dr. Pepper. And you know what? I just scrape it off and MOVE ON WITH MY LIFE, remembering to reiterate it the next time and hope for the best. Geez! But then, I'm "old school." I've lived through the days when I didn't have cable, a home computer or even a CD player! Goddamn, I'm like the friggin' Laura Ingalls Wilder of the 80's!
Princess Wild Cow-
A. I don't own a gun because I have a history of mental illness.
and
B. It just doesn't pay to talk to retards. It's like trying to teach Bush to pronounce "nuclear" correctly and not like a fuckin' hillbilly: Futile.
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