First off, this amazing tale of Yzerman and urine and ladygarments:
I've heard Yzerman pee before. Yup, true story.
He was a client of mine when I worked at a high end lingerie store on Michigan Ave. He would call me 5-6 times a year and I would send him lots of hot lingerie for his wife Lisa. One time I called him and he answered while in the bathroom. He just told me to hold on while he finished and flushed. I think I heard him put the seat down too. What a gentlemen.
He was always very nice and sent me a Christmas card every year with a nice tip in it. "Thanks for all of your help this year. Merry Christmas, Steve Yzerman" I didnt keep any of the cards(much to Zach's dismay) because honestly this was pre ZJ and I didnt know a thing about hockey then. I was just happy he boosted my commission. But I'm learning and I can now throw down with any Hawks fan that comes my way. Baby steps.
My ex-girlfriend famously thought his name was "Eisenbaum." Zach's girlfriend is best friends with him. Unfair is life. I guess I'll have to overcompensate with my Paul Newman-like good looks and Paul Newman-like salad dressing empire.
Speaking of condiments, trivialstuff takes on a weighty matter:
Carry out place gripe: Is there a reason that all of these places that now use squeeze bottles to put mayo on your sandwich, wrap, pita, etc have to completely drench the sammy with mayo. They carefully measure out all your other ingredients, but the minute you ask for mayo the flood gates open up.TS, I've got a solution for this problem: when the sandwich artist is finished with the first line of mayo, tell them to stop with the mayo: "That's good." That's all you have to say: "That's good." What are you doing while they spend 30 seconds flooding your sam with unwanted mayo? trading stocks, closing deals, splitting conjoined twins?
I mean I can't quite bring myself to order sans condiments, but I also don't need 6 servings of mayo. I always order "lite mayo" now, but even that causes confusion. Because someplaces actually have "lite mayo". So do I want that, or just not very much mayo. Dan was once asked by a friend on their way visit us in East Lansing "Do you live near Abbott Rd, or Abbott the dorm". Dan's response was "It's funny you should ask that question because the answer is Yes". Dan wasn't in the clearest state of mind. But I digress. The answer to the lite mayo quesion is also "yes". I want you to add a little bit of flavor to my turkey sandwich without increasing the Calorie content by 78 percent.
The thing is, I don't know why they feel the need to rock all that mayo anyway. Or am I just abnormal, and everyone else considers it standard to go back and forth over a sandwich with a squeeze tube of mayo 5 or 6 times.
I think we need to change the condiment conversation. Let's automatically go with less mayo unless someone asks for extra. You can always add more. It's gonna be a lot harder when I finally get agitated and ask you to remake my sub or scrape off those last two tracks of mayonnaise.
I have an aversion to rudeness. I don't want to interrupt the sandwich artist in the middle of their flow. Shouldn't my "I'd like just a little bit of mayo" statement at the start of the transaction suffice?
ReplyDeletePlus they work fast. It's like pumping gas and trying to stop it directly on 20, only you can't stop at 19.95 and slowly work your way up. You gotta hold that shit down till the end and release at the exact right moment. It's tough one second they are shaking the bottle in preparation, the next thing you know there's a jar of mayo on your sandwich. They might not have great judgement when it comes to determining the the appropriate amount of condiment, but they work fast. But, point taken. I'll try and manage my ordering a little more efficiently so that they can go on smothering everyone else's sandwhich in processed cream, butter, fat, whatever the hell else is in mayonnaise.
Actually, I have a much more rediculous event to explain regarding Subway. On Wednesday I was leaving the gym at like 8:30. Realized I had very little in the way of food at the apartment and decided to stop in to Subway.
I get there and two ladies are standing in the doorway and they look visibly shaken. I was caught off guard and asked them what was up.
They respond "well we've been here for quite a while and nobody has come out to help us. We can't tell if that's a person there or not"
All you could see was the back of a coat on a chair, everything else was blocked by the wall. So I let out a semi lowd "Hello?", followed by a slightly louder "Hello?! anybody here?".
No answer.
So I walk around to the side door and knock on it. No answer. So I see if it's unlocked. It is. I open it like halfway and sure enough there is a person hunched over in the chair. I assume they are sleeping so I again call out a loud "Hello" and knock on the door. They don't move. Now I'm sorta concerned. I'm ashamed to admit that I was probably equal parts concerned with whether the person was alright and also concernd that if they weren't I was gonna be stuck at subway for a really long time. Selfish of me, I know, But I am pretty much drenched in sweat, it's late, I'm hungry, and I'm already mad about how much mayo the employee is gonna slather on my sandwich if and when they come to.
Well I don't want to full on walk back in there and shake the person, because I'm afraid they will wake up and freak out. But I also don't want to just leave. So I close the door. And this time completely pound on it. Pound on it like a furious younger, drunk version of myself who's roomates locked him out of their apartment.
I can't see into the room anymore but I look over at the two girls who were there before me and they are now trying to stifle laughs and kind of nod at me to signal that yes, finally we had some movement.
So I walk back out front and sure enough, the dozing sandwich artist has arisen and is making her way back out front. She does not say one word about it. Instead she calmly walks up to the counter and says "Hi, what can I get for you." We all sit there in shock, and go on to our order.