You Are What You Eat

I got some revelation today…this isn’t unique to New York, but it certainly helps as the backdrop to the story…

I’ve realized all the more lately that we are what we eat.  Or maybe I should say…we are what we order.  I was in line at Subway (the sandwich place, not the train) getting ready to order a sandwich.  In New York, there’s an added anxiety to ordering because you don’t want to be that guy who holds up the line with any stupid questions or hesitations.  I learned this very quickly in 2005 at a starbucks where the barista let me have it for not being ready to order…and for not having some form of payment ready at the exact time she asked.  This was the only time I made that mistake.

So…back to Subway.  I’m in line ready to order when I realize the guys behind the counter are calling people names.  “Chicken!”  “Turkey”  in accents that are some mix of middle eastern and new york, which is another revelation on it’s own.  There are so many orders going backand forth that they cheer, as if at a Yankees game, ”VEGIE DELIGHT!!”    Clearly they are not actually calling people names – but I couldn’t help but go there.  You are what you eat!  at least according to the guy yelling at me and my sandwich.

I’ve decided that the next time I go in and he calls me chicken I’m going to respond quickly in a questioning tone – “What did you call me?!?”  and we’ll see where it goes. 

Starbucks has been doing this for a while too…somewhere along the line they’ve actually started writing your name on the cup so as not to offend…but I’d much rather them call me by my drink name…

“TALL WHITE MOCHA!!”

“Darn right I am…tall, white, and chocolate all in one”