Ode to a Sandwich Artist

While producing an inferior sandwich to Wawa in every regard, you have to give the good folks at Subway some style points in the marketing business. Rather than sticking to mundane job titles, they refer to their shift employees as “sandwich artists.” We feel that the title, sandwich artist, does make the job seem more exciting, and less homicidal than Taco Bell’s/KFC’s hiring of “customer maniacs.”

I guess even psychos deserve employment.

But back to the issue at hand. While Subway might have the right idea but the poor execution of making a quality hoagie on a roll, it is true. Sandwich making IS an art, and there is only one Picasso in this particular medium. Her name?

Wendy Sandwich.

Now some would believe Wendy Sandwich to be a myth, a legend that sandwich lovers pass down to their children and their children’s children. Quite possibly it’s because her surname over time has become “Sandwich,” and such a coincidence is the stuff fables and ill-fated Oliver Stone movies are made of. In truth, her last name was not Sandwich – it’s just that in our freshman year at William and Mary, we never learned it. But that in no way detracts from her ability to craft and create the best lunch ever – a 12 inch ham and cheese loaded on a hoagie roll, made with all the wisdom and genius a sandwich artist can dedicate.

The mere idea of trying to expound on the technique and majesty that Wendy devoted – with the grace of royalty, the precision of a scientist, and the reflexes of a ninja – would be impossible. It would read like a poorly conceived J. Evans Pritchard tome on the subject. Instead, let’s demonstrate the complete opposite of expert sandwich creation.

Yesterday, the following dialogue occurred between Chris Condon, a hungry employee, and Amnesia McSpacebrain, the deli counter attendant in our cafeteria.

AM: What would you like?
CC: I’l have a turkey and cheddar with mayo on rye.(AM grabs two slices of rye bread)
AM: Lettuce or tomato?
CC: Tomato, please.
(AM applies tomato to bread, skipping over the application of any condiments step.)
AM: Would you like cheese on this?
CC: Um, yes? (having already mentioned it)
AM: What kind?
CC: I think cheddar sounds good.
AM: Ham or turkey?
CC: (still confused) Why, is the ham good today?
AM: It’s the same.
CC: Ok, then I’ll stick with turkey.
AM: (takes turn looking confused, then adds turkey to sandwich) Would you like a pickle with this?
CC: No, but could I get some mayonnaise?
(AM then realizes gaffe, and spreads mayo on the outside of sandwich. AM then realizes second gaffe, and applies mayonnaise to the interior side of the bread. AM then realizes she’s standing there with a double-sided piece of mayo bread, and the sandwich has gone to hell.)

Wherever she is now, Wendy Sandwich is shaking her head in disgust. Very quietly.