Jeremiah's School of Levitation
Upsy-Daisy!
Wednesday, March 22, 2006
Letter To...
Dear Subway Sandwich Shop,
Hello. How are you? I'm fine, thanks. I am writing this today to make an appeal that I believe is long overdue, at least on my part. I have frequented your establishment on numerous occasions over the past 20 years and, with a slight feeling of anxiety, I have watched you grow from a brown, yellow, and brightly-lit outpost at the corner of our sprawling college campus to something of a dizzying swarm of locations that almost makes me feel like I'm surrounded. At the downtown building where I work, there are 4 (four) Subways within 2 (two) blocks in either direction, and these are only the ones that I have discovered. I fear that there are others lurking around corners that I have yet to turn. You outnumber Starbucks on these streets, which, in some fearfully perverted way, I have to admire, kind of the way you admire the fact that the smell of exhaust drowns out the smell of urine in the alleys.
But, the reason I'm writing you has nothing to do with urine. It has to do with your offerings. You see, Subway, I have tried to like your version of the sub sandwich. I have come in and ordered every manner of sub, from roast beef, to seafood, to club, to breakfast sandwich, to vegetarian, and I've tried the full assortment of your breads. I've allowed your employees to sprinke and douse everything you offer onto my sandwiches besides Windex or sweat from the sandwich maker's brow. And, all my endeavors have been for naught because, Subway, every single sandwich has tasted exactly the same. I do not know how you do it. It is as if you do not set anything out unless it has achieved an equality of taste. I wonder if you do not have some sort of Sandwich Civil Rights Policy that states that no component of your sandwiches can be singled out. The green peppers must be equal to the black olives, and the salt must not infringe upon the rights of the lettuce. And, to top it off, that standard of taste that you aspire to can be duplicated by simply soaking a cardboard box in water.
How do you accomplish this? Is there a machine in back called a "De-Tasterizer" that, using hydraulic forces that are almost against the law to exert, you employ to extract the taste from otherwise distinctly-flavored foods? I know this machine exists because my local natural foods store uses one too for all their prepared deli items, and some packaged items, like even cookies, for God's sake. In some instances, they have turned the machine up so high that it has also managed to remove the very soul from some foods, consequently making them the spawn of Satan's stovetop.
So, you may ask, why do I continue to frequent your establishment? Well, in moments of severe self-hatred, I feel that a low-calorie lunch will be the only thing to keep me from ringing my neck with a tire and setting it afire, at the sheer frustration at my lack of weight control. So, I drag my fat butt into a Subway and order a low-cal sandwich and I sit and chew on it, not even realizing that I had not first unwrapped it. And then, there are the occasions where my imaginative co-workers will say "Hey, let's go to Subway for lunch!" in the same tone of voice that they'd say "Hey, look! A 500 (five hundred) dollar bill!" I have to follow them to Subway, zombie-like, if I want to have any company at all during my work day.
Surely you can understand, and, thereby, surely you can think to restore taste to your meals. Please. Abolish the Sandwich Civil Rights policy. Let the peppers be hot! Let the salt be salty! Oh bitter vinegar, arise! And, garlic, old friend, be heard, be smelled!
And, another thing, can you please send that Jarrod guy packing? I'm over the fact that he lost half his body weight by eating Subway sandwiches. And, Subway, how do you know he's even tellling the truth? Did he keep all his receipts? Did he give you a detailed spreadsheet tracking his devourings and relating them to his weight loss? And, if he did keep his receipts, how do you know he didn't do the same thing to Wendy's or McDonald's? Maybe he just bought the sandwiches, got the receipts, threw out the sandwiches and just got his stomach stapled. Then, he went to each company and said that he'd lost all this weight eating their food and you were the only ones who fell for it. And, even if it's all true, can't you see that he's a complete dud? He can no more be a dynamic spokesman for your food than Dick Cheney can be a lovable host of a children's show.
Okay. Thanks for reading this far. Have a nice day.
-Jeremiah
Hello. How are you? I'm fine, thanks. I am writing this today to make an appeal that I believe is long overdue, at least on my part. I have frequented your establishment on numerous occasions over the past 20 years and, with a slight feeling of anxiety, I have watched you grow from a brown, yellow, and brightly-lit outpost at the corner of our sprawling college campus to something of a dizzying swarm of locations that almost makes me feel like I'm surrounded. At the downtown building where I work, there are 4 (four) Subways within 2 (two) blocks in either direction, and these are only the ones that I have discovered. I fear that there are others lurking around corners that I have yet to turn. You outnumber Starbucks on these streets, which, in some fearfully perverted way, I have to admire, kind of the way you admire the fact that the smell of exhaust drowns out the smell of urine in the alleys.
But, the reason I'm writing you has nothing to do with urine. It has to do with your offerings. You see, Subway, I have tried to like your version of the sub sandwich. I have come in and ordered every manner of sub, from roast beef, to seafood, to club, to breakfast sandwich, to vegetarian, and I've tried the full assortment of your breads. I've allowed your employees to sprinke and douse everything you offer onto my sandwiches besides Windex or sweat from the sandwich maker's brow. And, all my endeavors have been for naught because, Subway, every single sandwich has tasted exactly the same. I do not know how you do it. It is as if you do not set anything out unless it has achieved an equality of taste. I wonder if you do not have some sort of Sandwich Civil Rights Policy that states that no component of your sandwiches can be singled out. The green peppers must be equal to the black olives, and the salt must not infringe upon the rights of the lettuce. And, to top it off, that standard of taste that you aspire to can be duplicated by simply soaking a cardboard box in water.
How do you accomplish this? Is there a machine in back called a "De-Tasterizer" that, using hydraulic forces that are almost against the law to exert, you employ to extract the taste from otherwise distinctly-flavored foods? I know this machine exists because my local natural foods store uses one too for all their prepared deli items, and some packaged items, like even cookies, for God's sake. In some instances, they have turned the machine up so high that it has also managed to remove the very soul from some foods, consequently making them the spawn of Satan's stovetop.
So, you may ask, why do I continue to frequent your establishment? Well, in moments of severe self-hatred, I feel that a low-calorie lunch will be the only thing to keep me from ringing my neck with a tire and setting it afire, at the sheer frustration at my lack of weight control. So, I drag my fat butt into a Subway and order a low-cal sandwich and I sit and chew on it, not even realizing that I had not first unwrapped it. And then, there are the occasions where my imaginative co-workers will say "Hey, let's go to Subway for lunch!" in the same tone of voice that they'd say "Hey, look! A 500 (five hundred) dollar bill!" I have to follow them to Subway, zombie-like, if I want to have any company at all during my work day.
Surely you can understand, and, thereby, surely you can think to restore taste to your meals. Please. Abolish the Sandwich Civil Rights policy. Let the peppers be hot! Let the salt be salty! Oh bitter vinegar, arise! And, garlic, old friend, be heard, be smelled!
And, another thing, can you please send that Jarrod guy packing? I'm over the fact that he lost half his body weight by eating Subway sandwiches. And, Subway, how do you know he's even tellling the truth? Did he keep all his receipts? Did he give you a detailed spreadsheet tracking his devourings and relating them to his weight loss? And, if he did keep his receipts, how do you know he didn't do the same thing to Wendy's or McDonald's? Maybe he just bought the sandwiches, got the receipts, threw out the sandwiches and just got his stomach stapled. Then, he went to each company and said that he'd lost all this weight eating their food and you were the only ones who fell for it. And, even if it's all true, can't you see that he's a complete dud? He can no more be a dynamic spokesman for your food than Dick Cheney can be a lovable host of a children's show.
Okay. Thanks for reading this far. Have a nice day.
-Jeremiah
Elliot, 1:13 AM
2 Back at me:
Ooh, dude. There's a sub shop just a few residential blocks from our house, and their subs actually taste like real food. The roast beef is beefy. The tuna is dolphin-y. The jalapeno potato chips kick yer ass. I'd send you lunch, but the mailman would probably smell its juicy goodness and eat it.
Jeremiah, I honestly am so underwhelmed by Subway, these are my thoughts exactly. It all tastes the same. bleh.
