I went to Subway the other day and while there, I was thrown for a loop.  As I think about it, ‘thrown for a loop’ is a funny saying.  I wonder who came up with that? I guess it really doesn’t matter who coined the phrase, which is another funny saying, because what does matter is that I was confused and I shouldn’t be when I go to Subway.

I used to live in a very rural area of the country so I didn’t see my first ‘pick your meat’ hoagie shop until I was in my 20s, which was about 20 years after Subway started.  Yes, I was a little behind the times, which is another funny saying, but I didn’t know, so it didn’t bother me.  Sometimes it’s good to be behind because things are less complicated.  Like instead of picking my meat, cheese, toppings, and dressings, I got whatever the cheerleaders put on my hoagie at 6AM that morning when they made it for their fundraiser.  Life was simple then. If you didn’t want cheese, you picked it off and gave it to someone who did. If you didn’t want lettuce, you used your finger to scrape it off into the garbage can.  It was a hoagie unmade to order and that was perfectly fine.

Which brings me to my recent visit to Subway.  I got in line below the correct sign; the one that read “Place order here.”  While waiting, I rehearsed everything I wanted to say.  I do that to help out the worker-the worker who has to ask the same questions over and over again throughout the entire workday.  What kind of sub do you want?  What kind of bread?  What size? Do you want cheese on it?  What kind of cheese do you want?  Do you want it toasted?  What else do you want on it? Do you want any dressings?  Do you want a drink?  Cookies?  Chips?  Is that debit or credit?

Yes, you can tell that I’ve been to Subway a lot because I know the questions and the order they are asked.  Well, that was true until the day when I was thrown for a loop. The sandwich artist didn’t ask, “What kind of sub do you want?” as the first question.  Instead she asked, “What size do you want?” I didn’t know what to do. She messed up my entire Subway litany by asking the wrong question first.  Why does size matter when you don’t yet know my bread choice? EVERY Subway person for the last 40+ years has asked me the same first question, then the bread question, and then the size question. Are you some kind of rebel?  A Subway rebel?

When I finally gained my composure and my bun was toasting in the oven, no-not that bun and not that oven, it was my husband’s turn to order.  And guess what?  He got the same, “What size sub?” question first too.  When we finally made it to our table he asked, “Why did she ask me for sub size first?” Well, she’s the artist and I guess for her, size matters.