I go to the same Subway location once a week. Or, if I’m being honest, 2-3 times a week. I don’t even particularly like Subway that much, it’s just there aren’t many places around my office to go and I almost always forget my lunch at home. I don’t know why I’m validating my meal decisions right now, but I’m feeling your judgey Tumblr eyes. Anyway.
The same guy is working every time I go and even though I go MULTIPLE TIMES every single WEEK and order the SAME thing EVERY time, he still asks me step-by-step questions in the same robotic way. No smiling, no laughing, no acknowledgment that he’s seen me before. It’s like I’m nothing to him. Each time he asks, “bread?” “cheese?” part of me wants to stare deep into his eyes, reach over the counter, place my hand over his and whisper, “C’mon, you know me. You KNOW me.”
It’s like in the Girl with the Dragon Tattoo film series (the Swedish versions, not the American one because they TOTALLY fucked this part up) where you so badly want her to express emotion or show some sort of genuine affection/vulnerability for Mikael Blomkvist but she never does. The Subway guy is my Lisbeth except with less focus on vengeance and affection and more on remembering that I do not want anything toasted.
I have this irrational fear that I’ll run into him out on the streets in public one day and greet him over-enthusiastically. I picture him walking with someone else and as we make eye contact I yell “HEY!” and he just keeps walking. But, instead of giving up, I follow him while reciting my order over and over thinking that I’m being funny. He keeps walking, probably faster. The person with him glances back at me with concern and slowly pulls out a phone as if to show me that they have easy 911 dial access. I don’t let this hinder me because I’m a goddamn regular and he knows it. Anyway, this fear ends every time with a serious talking to by a nearby security guard and a lifetime ban from Subway.
So, to avoid this potential tragedy of a situation, I think the next time I see him I’m going to say, “Goddammit, Lisbeth. You know what kind of cheese I like.”
Such an incredibly accurate and ultimately depressing article.