Sandwich week continues. 

Since I have only so much self respect to distribute to myself in any given week, I chose to eat lunch from Potbelly again today.  Do not misunderstand; I do not think that Potbelly is beneath me.  Potbelly is one of the finest sandwich facilities within 3 blocks of my house. At least!  

Anyway, the degrading part of going to Potbelly is the grim recognition in the eyes of the sandwich makers, when they see that I am back.  This is compounded by a series of conversations I had with the bearded sandwich maker.  His name is a mystery to me.  

I attended this particular Potbelly around dinner time with a friend, once, and my friend had a long friendly chat with the bearded sandwich maker.  It seemed to me they were friends.  When next I attended the Potbelly I was alone, but the bearded sandwich maker was there.  I introduced myself and said I was the one who was there with the other guy and we talked, remember? He nodded and stared directly through my body to indicate that our conversations should be limited to sandwich orders from now on.  

I saw him again, right after getting a new phone.  I ordered and then played with my phone, accidentally pointing it at him.

Me: Sorry.

The bearded sandwich maker: Hmm?

Me: I’m not taking pictures of you making sandwiches, you don’t need that all over the internet.

The bearded sandwich maker: Hmm.

Me: I mean, I guess you might. It’s not like that’s, like, embarrassing. Sandwich making is a fine occupation.

The bearded sandwich maker: <Makes sandwich silently>

Me: Sorry.

I took a break from Potbelly after that. 

BUT NOT A LONG BREAK. I was back for lunch the next week.  Mid-day, the lunch rush has come and gone, but I am there.  The bearded sandwich maker is not making sandwiches, but is manning the post-toaster lettuce-and-tomato-application-counter.  

Me: Slow day today?

The bearded sandwich maker: Yeah, it was a little nuts earlier, you never know.

Me: <thrilled, but playing it totally cool> You don’t have like regular lunchtime rushes?

The bearded sandwich maker: There are a few people who come in everyday, but it’s kind of random.

Me: Man, everyday? I mean, I like Potbelly, but it’s not THAT good. 

The bearded sandwich maker: Totally. You can get tired of it.

I walked out of Potbelly a little taller than usual that day.  Anyway, long story short, I blew it and now we’re enemies again.  BUT TODAY!

Oh, today he wasn’t there.  It was a different group and I’m free to go there as much as I want without the psychic burden of the bearded sandwich maker remembering that I am a person who was weird and then wouldn’t stay away.