Mr. Sandwich Artist

Like my friend, Ryan, my favorite food genre is the sandwich.  To me, a deli is a sacred place.  It is a place where a multitude of glorious ingredients come together to form a wondrous harmonious concoction that quickly finds its way into my tummy… and my heart.  When I say, “I love that sandwich so much, I’d marry it,” I actually mean it.  I truly do.

But one day, my faith in the all-healing powers of sandwichery was shaken.

Badly.

I popped into a nearby deli to find some lunch in the form of a pastrami sandwich, and I noticed that the sandwich artist on duty kept shooting me strange looks.  I didn’t think much of it at first, but eventually he broke the silence by asking me a very pointed question.

Sandwich Artist : “How old are you?”

I was so taken aback by his directness that I answered truthfully without thinking.

Sandwich Artist : “Are you married?  Any kids?”

I just shook my head at him; quite frankly, I was in a daze.  I just wasn’t expecting this kind of interrogation, and he caught me completely off guard.

His eyes widened, and he gasped.  Loud enough to be rude, I think.

Sandwich Artist : “OH MY GOODNESS, YOU ARE RUNNING OUT OF TIME.”

Man-shopper : “Erm.  What?”

Sandwich Artist : “YOU DON’T HAVE MUCH TIME LEFT!  YOU HAVE TO HURRY!”

There were no mirrors at the time to confirm this, but I suspect that the look on my face was some mixture of shock, horror, and complete confusion.  I remember thinking to myself, “What is happening here?  WHAT IS HAPPENING?”

The rest of our (thankfully) brief conversation went something like this:

Man-shopper : “Hurry?  Why?  I’m still so young!”

Sandwich Artist : “No, you’re not.  You’re running out of time.  If you don’t hurry up, you will die alone.”

Man-shopper : “Whoa, hang on.  That’s a bit dramatic.”

Sandwich Artist : “Not really.  Why don’t you want to be married?”

Man-shopper : “Who said I don’t want to be married?  What if I’m just not ready to settle down yet?”

Sandwich Artist : “At your age, if you’re not married, you don’t want to be married, right?”

Man-shopper : “This conversation is over.  Could I pay for my sandwich now please?”

I did not leave him a tip.

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7 Comments

Filed under Misters

7 responses to “Mr. Sandwich Artist

  1. C

    My jaw is scraping the floor right now. How did you manage to not throw something at his face?

  2. Who says something like that to a complete stranger? So ridiculous, it’s funny.

  3. Wait you tip the dude who makes your sandwich…. i.e. the job he gets paid for? I’ll never understand my american cousins! ;)

  4. Jessi

    Um, holy inappropriateness batman! It amazes me that people like that have managed to survive in society. I hope HE didn’t have children…he should never procreate, let alone be in charge of forming innocent minds into robots intent on marrying AS. SOON. AS. POSSIBLE.

  5. Did you, perchance, take a DeLorean to this sandwich shop? Because clearly you were in a sandwich shop in the year 1812, not 2012.

  6. hahahahah Oh Manshopper…my beloved manshopper…I am thrilled (yet empathetic ;) to see nothing has changed in the hilarity of your life. I’ve been away far too long with my nose in the books and you have brightened my day, as usual. If it helps you handled that bread flipper much better than I would’ve…I probably would’ve hit him with an …uh…uh…SHUTUP!…MUSTARD!!…

    xoxo SSD

  7. where’s the “like” button?
    : P

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