After a long three days of sandwich artistry (they don’t enjoy abstract art as much as you would think) the owner of all of the local area Subways asked me to come speak with him. Was I being fired already? It was too early for a promotion, right? In broken English the boss told me “You are a very hard worker, and you seem to have caught on to everything quickly.” I felt honored and eager to hear what was in store for such a hard working and naturally gifted sandwich artist. He told me “Our Crestwood store is having trouble dealing with the lunch crowd and I think they need someone with your work ethic to help out over there, I am transferring you to that store.” I felt a sense of elation, the kind typically reserved for an artist that perfectly folds a double stacked cold cut trio with all the toppings and no spillage. I was on top of the sandwich world.
I told some of my coworkers, whom I had grown so close to over the last few days, about my new fortune. After talking to a few coworkers it became obvious that they had also been spoken to and the only reason I was selected to be transferred was because I was the only employee that had a car. Nonetheless, for those of you who don’t know, Crestwood is the Paris of sandwich artistry, and working at the Subway near the railroad tracks would be like painting while sitting right in the Louvre. I had been awarded the chance to drive 20 extra minutes round trip everyday and practice my craft in the sandwich capital of Kentucky with no increase in pay! I was living the sandwich dream.