I Hate You Subway

I eat subway pretty much an average of one time per day. In the little food court where I work it is the lesser of many evils, including A & W, some Pizza place and a greasy chinese food place.

For the most part, I always order a little wrap, either filled with chicken or like this morning filled with ham and egg. It’s not a hard thing to make really. You take some egg, put it in a wrap, but some ham and cheese on it and call it a sandwich.

However, it doesn’t matter how many times I order a wrap, EVERY SINGLE TIME I DO it’s like watching some huge elaborate machine grind to a freaking halt. Every time, the lady will reach for a six inch white bun, stare at it for a while, then stare at me, then back at the bun, trying to figure out how to reboot her system so she can continue on.

And every time, I just sit there, waiting for someone to figure out what a wrap is, where they store them, and how to put egg inside and wrap it up. Considering the word “Wrap” is predominately displayed on their menus for most items, it just boggles my mind how nobody can figure out how to make them.