Today I went to Pax
Posted by: Liz | From: November 18, 2003
Today I went to Pax for lunch, lured by their signs for pressed sandwiches. It’s not a secret any longer that I am a sucker for pressed sandwiches. I realized that Pax pressed sandwiches are, by definition alone, not going to be as good as Press 195 pressed sandwiches, but lunchtime is lunchtime and melty cheese between two crispy slices of hot foccacia is, well, hard to get wrong. It was crazy busy there, as one might assume, and the “chefs” behind the counter were hyper-excited to help the next person which they let us know by emitting a continuous peal of “Can I help who’s next? Who’s next who’s next? Can I help you?” in between which you are to insert your order. I did and then moved down the line. An efficient 5 minutes later a chef waved around a plastic container and shouted out “Three cheese!” but before I could react, an anonymous hand popped out of the throng of people and took my sandwich! I let out a little sad cry and one of the guys noticed and made motions to me to indicate that he was on it. I was getting my sandwich post haste. And he delivered! Not three minutes later I had my melty cheesey goodness in my hands. And not only that. The man gave it to me for free. How bout it! Duane Reade peeps, take note.Digressive sandwich thiever story: This one takes place at a Subway with sandwich artists who speak very little English. I was behind one guy who had orders for several sandwiches going at once. My little veggie and cheese sandwich was being made behind his and, as it goes at Subway, I was following its progress behind the glass as I directed the ingredients onto the bread. When it was finished, it was papered, stuffed in a bag, handed to the register guy, and promptly taken by the guy in front of me. “Excuse me,” I said, “I think that’s my veggie and cheese.” Which was a lie, because I know it was my veggie and cheese. He huffed at me and shook his head, “No, it’s my turkey.” That was an aggravating response, but I remained calm, “Actually, I’m really pretty sure that’s my veggie and cheese. I just watched him put it into the bag.” But the guy wouldn’t listen and insisted on taking the sandwich. I was incredulous—you would think as a meat eater he would be making triply sure that his sandwich was not lacking the meat he paid for instead of being stupidly insistent that my sandwich was his. Unbelievably, the people behind the counter started motioning frantically to me that they would make me a new sandwich, not to worry about it, let it go. Which made the whole situation even stranger because they were then admitting that my sandwich was gone and not just behind the counter waiting to be rung up next. Shaking my head, I started to make the sandwich over again. As the guy left I shrugged and said, “Well, just so you know, when you get home and go to eat that sandwich, it’s not going to have turkey on it.” There was more huffing and annoyance, then he was gone. The Subway guys were all dismissive, like: just let it go, that guy’s crazy! Which sounded about right.
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