When is a sandwich NOT a sandwich?

Today was one of those rare days I didn’t bring lunch to work. It’s a long and boring story, but the point is when lunch time rolled around, I was sitting here lunchless.

Being lunchless in a lunchy world is no damn fun.

Fortunately, the building in which I work sits next to several fooderies, so I had my selection of places to go and spend $12 or so for some over-salted grub.

The problem was, each of these places were packed lips-to-ass with people. The Daphne’s had a queue stretching well out the door; the Baja Fresh looked like the cowline entering an abbatoir; and the fish place, Pismo Grill, was as packed as a bait-bucket.

I decided to go elsewhere, and took a stroll up the street to the local Quiznos. Now, as franchised sandwich shops under strict corporate guidelines go, Quiznos isn’t bad. I don’t know if it’s their bread dough recipe or that they blend their sandwich dressing with meth, or what, but their sandwiches tend to be the least objectionable.

Anyway, I think the woman working the counter is a little sweet on me. I say that partly because she is really cute and it would do wonders for my ego if it is true, but also because she not only recognized me, but asked if I wanted my “usual.” The reason that stands out is because I haven’t been there in over a month, and at my most frequent, I would go there only once every other week or so.

Now, being me, I had to stop and make a bit of small talk with her. Did I mention that she’s cute? Big brown eyes, long dark hair with some highlights pulled into a darling ponytail, a really gentle smile with these adorable dimples, and her nose crinkles when she gives a playful laugh. Not that I was paying attention to any of that.

So, after my clumsy attempt at flirting (making some self-depreciating jokes and offering a sincere but transparent compliment) I move along to the manager guy to pay. I sensed he was miffed at our little interaction, because when I paid he had this odd look on his face I had never noticed before. The look was one of being torn between wanting to be upset with her for chatting with me and slowing the line (time is money), and one of being pleased that she was excelling at customer service (maintaining loyalty and ensuring repeat business). It was either that or he had some bad seafood recently, and it was coming back on him.

After getting my sandwich I waved goodbye to my new crush (she waved back and smiled), and walked back to the office. Unwrapping the sandwich proved she likes me. She packed that thing with at least double the contents it should contain. So, either she thinks I’m cute, or she thinks I’m not eating enough and is worried about my health. My pudding belly makes the latter highly unlikely.

The problem is, she put like a ton of mushrooms into the mix, and I really hate mushrooms. So, my conundrum is how to tell her this without making it sound like I’m some stuck-up jackhole?

I’d ask the MonkeyWife, but I don’t think she’d really help me out.

Ook ook