Perspectives

I know that only you all can truly appreiate the value of this memoir I had to write for my American Literature class. My teacher doesn't know me personally, but you all do. And you know that my experience with Subway was not very pleasant. However, I wanted to post the ONE positive and inspiring experience that I had while working. So if you have the time, please read it. :)



It was my second night working at Subway; it had been a pretty typical day from what I had been told- making subs for customers, cleaning, and learning how to work an ice cream machine. Many customers had been in and out and I was very ready to go home. My feet were screaming, “STOP stepping on us! We hurt!” The smell of the onions I had just finished slicing still hung in the air and stung my eyes while overpowering the perfume I had put on before work. I was in pain, I smelled like nasty onions, and I was miserable. Just as I was about to close up the sandwich board for the night, an older Asian man walked in. He looked like an everyday average Asian American- modern clothes. They were kind of yuppyish; the typical “dad attire,” khaki shorts, a golf shirt, and leather sandals.

I pulled on my thin plastic gloves while pushing aside the selfish thoughts of pain, “Hi, welcome to Subway! What can I get started for you today?” He just stood there, seeming to be amazed at all of the different combinations available for a sub. His eyes went all buggy as he poured over the menu on the wall. Then he asked with broken English in a strong accent-telling of his native Asian roots, “Um. En-tan-an B-emt ples.” I could only make out every other syllable, so I asked him to repeat what he said, making sure to watch his lips so I could understand what he was trying to order. He looked closely at each word trying very hard to pronounce the words correctly. “I-tal-e-an B-eM-T ples.” Finally understanding that he wanted an Italian BMT, I began his sandwich. So many thoughts were going through my mind at that point, but these seemed to stand out above the others: this man took a long time to decide on just the right sub, he ordered it twice trying painfully hard to use proper English, he’s really enthusiastic about it; it must be the first time he’s ever ordered a sub, so it needs to be the best one he will ever have. With this thought in my head, I took extra care in placing every piece of meat on the bread and even added a little extra bacon.

When I was finished with the meat, we moved onto the cheese. His eyes went ‘googly’ again at the sight of all his options. Shredded, sliced, pepper jack, white American, yellow American, provolone, and mozzarella. He studied over his choices and waited until he was sure he could pronounce everything the right way before he ordered. “White American, little the yellow and white shred cheese.” I was impressed with his speech this time, and began to layer tons of cheese onto the sub. After I was done putting the cheese on it was time for the veggies. “What veggies would you like on it, Sir?” Yet again, he was astounded by all of the possibilities. “What I put on it? What allowed?” I had to hold back my laughter, so I cracked a huge smile, knowing what his expression would be when I told him he could put whatever he wanted on it. By now, we were having a lot of fun constructing his custom masterpiece. “ANYTHING? Wow. I will have the KU-cumers, toe mAs, le-weise, doze greenish peppers, the ol-I-ves…” Then he came to the dressings. He muttered something that I couldn’t understand, so I asked him to repeat it. He pointed at the bin with the dressings in it and said “May-wees.” I looked at him, and then back at the dressings trying to match “May-wees” with a label on a bottle. Nothing was ringing a bell, so I looked up at him again and said “May-wee? I’m not quite sure of what that is, Sir.” He got even closer to the glass, squatted down, and squinted a little. He then began saying every single letter phonetically. “M-ah-O-ise.” OH! Mayonnaise How could I have missed that? I felt like I betrayed my quickly made friend. “Oh, mayonnaise! Yeah, that one is kind of hard. You can also call it ‘mayo’ for short.” He looked at me kindly, knowing I understood his insecurity.

I wrapped his sub with the most care, making sure to add two napkins instead of the normal one. This is how I showed my secret favor to customers that I enjoyed. I added small extras of things like bacon and napkins. I knew he would be grateful for the extra later when he realized that in order to fit the sub in his mouth, he would have to squish it down and all of the juice drip down his arms. It’s just something you come to learn when you eat subs a lot.

After he left, I could feel the big smile on my face. I had just been part of this man’s first experience with a common American food-the Italian BMT sub. I was the one that got to make an impression on him for his first sub-I got to make the suggestions for what to put on it like I was an expert or something. I was so impressed at the man’s tenacity for the sub. He worked for it. He didn’t just waltz in and order it in an Asian language expecting me to understand what he was saying. He may never realize it, but he is more American than the people who are born and raised here. He is living the American dream and understands the reward for hard work. In this case, the prize for his diligence was a delightfully huge sandwich. Only in America can you put cucumbers and banana peppers on the same sandwich. If only the American born citizens could understand the rewards of hard work. This experience showed me a different side of life; life from the view of a new American. Even to this day, thinking of that night puts an enormous smile on my face and reminds me that diligence and hard work pays off in the end.