Sandwich Guy

There's a certain level of dignity that automatically gets lost when one eats a sandwich. It's no one's fault, really. We all eat them. But when eating a sandwich - especially a packed one - there's a series of facial expressions that look like someone, male or female, is actually giving birth under the table at which they are sitting. The grimace and the opening of the mouth like they're writhing in pain, following by the stuffed cheeks like they're storing ham for the winter. It's all so disturbing, and somehow we are actually enjoying what we're eating. And for God's sake people, do NOT take photos of yourself attempting to eat a sandwich, and don't take pictures of your sandwich. We don't need photographic proof of your clogged arteries.

Now look, there are some instances where these photos can be funny. I mean I have friends who take pics of their food and them eating it all the time. It's endearing sometimes. But fellas, showing how much you can fit in your mouth makes you look more like one of Adebisi's bitches in Oz than making you look like a seasoned competitive eater. On that note, I'd like to discuss "Sandwich Guy."

Throughout my working from home existence, along with the completion of my thesis, I began to frequent local cafes to sit and absorb the free Wi-Fi outside of home (Shout out to Panera! I see you pimpin'!) I've discovered the fundamental difference between cafes and delis. Delis attempt to kill you with sandwiches the size of your head and cups full of coffee grinds. Cafes attempt to make you poor - with overpriced coffee and little expensive sandwiches. Oversized/Overpriced? You pick your team. I've yet to experience a deli with free Wi-Fi (or a deli employee that owns a computer) so the cafe wins. People from all walks of life congregate here to look interesting at lunch, write a novel that will never get published, or in some rare instances, just want to have lunch in a friendly setting. Then along comes Sandwich Guy.

Sandwich Guy comes here once a week because he passes it on some sort of truck route - delivering bread, installing cable, fixing a faucet, landscaping a yard. He really wanted the deli, but the deli is too far and he's hungry NOW. He walks into the cafe with his rugged, brawny, physique. Sometimes he's kinda hot, other times he looks like a deranged lumberjack from the sticks looking for some bodies to burn in the furnace of his log cabin.

Sandwich Guy walks up to the counter and glares at the menu. He stares at the cashier girl boobs first and then meets her eyes and asks for the "italian" sandwich. See, the "italian" sandwich at the cafe is there for the husbands of the women who frequent the cafe. It's a false representation of manhood because it's half packed with cold cuts but served on sliced bread. Real men use rolls. Husbands feel a sense of security as they eat their italian sandwich with their penis resting in their wife's purse. Sandwich Guy wants NONE of that. He orders the italian sandwich but then demands it on a roll. A big old italian roll. He means business.

He doesn't want soup or salad and he's never heard of flavored coffee. He just wants his big ass loaf of cholesterol. He feels a sense of accomplishment for turning his bridal shower sandwich into a "hoagie," a "sub," an edible model of the size of his genitals. He's very proud.

Sandwich Guy brings his big sandwich to a booth and shoves it in his mouth at the speed of light. The time it took for the high school student to make the sandwich is doubled since the cafe kids don't know how to use a "slicer." Their pre-packaged free-range turkey gets delicately placed on the loaf of bread. This isn't a hash house, and now Sandwich Guy lost most of his lunch break because of it. He swallows the sandwich whole and while there are still pieces hanging out of his mouth, he looks at YOU and smiles. You feel bad...like, awwwww Sandwich Guy just wanted a quick bite before installing DSL. Then he notices YOUR DSL's and turns this into a cruising for sex mission. You shake your head because it isn't that kind of a party and you pack up your laptop and move to the back of the cafe. He nods as you walk away...Marie from the deli is wayyyy hotter and she probably makes a better cup of coffee anyway.