It’s true. They were definitely looking down at my fatty-girl ways and giving me the I-really-want-to spit-in-your-food stare down.
Many moons ago, Dave introduced me to the Smoked Turkey on Country sandwich (or the TOC as we call it on the streets, and by the streets I mean inside my abode, and by inside my abode, I mean never….). Simple and perfect on its own but add white cheddar, lettuce and tomato? That’s one tasty taco (note: not a taco).
Today, for reasons unbeknownst to me, I was on a mission. After making a trip to the bank not once but twice (due to the fact that on my first go-round I neglected to bring along my wallet), I had struck up a hunger and was suddenly craving a pick-two from Panera. And to top that off, for the first time in whoknowswhen I knew EXACTLY what I was going to order…..or so I thought.
Since it was almost two in the afternoon I pulled right in and scored primetime parking right in front, giggity! As I breezed through the double doors (that are unnecessarily heavy, might I add) I noted there was only one person in front of me, giggity giggity! As she placed her order for what could have only been a small army, it left me time enough to peruse my options, you know, just in case. I quickly noticed they’ve added new flatbread sammys to the menu. Should I trade my beloved TOC for one of those? No. I wouldn’t dare. But then my peepers stumbled upon the Turkey & Avocado BLT. Stop. Right. There.
The woman in front of me was finally wrapping up her order for all of her children that lived with her in their shoe, and my eyes kept thwarting back and forth between the always delectable TOC and this tantalizing avocado-laced BLT. Time was running out and I was starting to go into panic mode. I mean, you put avocado on anything and I’m instantly a sucker but I’ve got to stand my ground! I knew exactly what I wanted for probably only the 8th time in my 28 years of existing on this earth (for those of you that are used to my constant and extremely frustrating indecisive nature you’re well aware that this is a monumentally rare occurrence).
Finally, my turn at bat. Had I decided? What ever would I choose?! The pressure was already on to keep my order short and sweet for I had already unintentionally cut in front of the nice gentleman behind me (I’m a fast walker, what can I say?). Alas, I came to the perfect solution. But the moment that I began to speak I instantly saw myself transforming into #thatgirl through someone else’s eyes, ugh. My order took on a mind of its own and went a little something like this….
Me: “Hi, so, um, I never do this but, do you think, um, is it at all possible to get….oh, I’ll be getting a pick-two by the way….is it possible to get a Smoked Turkey on Country with White Cheddar and add in some Bacon and Avocado? I’ll need tomato and lettuce on that too. Please?”
Annoyed 14-year old Register Attendant: “Uh *eye roll* you want what?”
After a lot of slow speaking and repetition I was able to get my way. Still feeling like a total a-hole I made my way over to the soda fountain to get what Dave likes to call a diet with a splash of high test (high test being regular coke for those of you who aren’t in the know). On my approach I quickly diverted my gaze as to not make eye contact with the gent I butted who had not only been able to get his order in before mine, but who was already striding towards the counter to pick up his doggie-bag to go. Much to my delight, my number was called quickly and I was impressed by the staff’s efficiency and timeliness in creating such a fabulously complex, and annoyingly modified, sandwich of joy (see: Exhibit A).
It was all disastrously downhill from there….
Although my picture taking skills do it no justice, it looked beautiful sitting next to my bowl of every woman’s guilty pleasure, broccoli cheddar “soup” (let’s be honest people, that so called soup is never the consistency of soup. It is the consistency of homemade gravy that you sludge on to your turkey at Thanksgiving dinner). The certainty that I had just created the most perfect sandwich, and that at any moment the Panera management team was sure to hoist me onto their shoulders, add it to their menu and reward me with free chocolate chippers for life, ended abruptly the moment I tried to lift that glorious beast of a sammy to my watering mouth.
The only two embarrassingly small pieces of avocado they had added slipped out and plopped on to my tray (see: Exhibit B). I literally starred at those depressing livers for 3 minutes, crying on the inside. Where it lacked in avocado goodness, it was overcompensated for with an entire head of ridiculous lettuce (see: Exhibit C), most of which I had to rip off before consumption for fear of looking like a rabbit gone rabid to my fellow late-lunchers.
Let’s just say that in the end, the employees of Panera taught me an invaluable lesson: Never, ever, ever should you try to concoct or modify to create your most craveable sandwich at Panera.
Panera = 1 | Natalie = 0
*Side note: In my state of rage, and knowing how well my memory, or lack thereof, helps me remember profound situations such as this, I wrote this entire entry via my iPhone whilst wallowing in my disappointment. Not only had I already annoyed the entire staff with my absurd sandwich request (lesson learned), but I am sure that I had equally offended and irritated my fellow booth-sitters as I feverishly typed away this monumental entry. In my defense, at least every time I tapped a letter to record this epic chain of events it didn’t emit an audible clickity-click sound (yes, I’m talking about you, Mr. I’m-an-important-man-in-a-business-suit-and-I-will-side-stare-at-you-however-many-times-I-please Man).
