Today I learned...

... not to go to Subway too soon after it opens in the morning. At least, not the one on Kemps River Drive in Virginia Beach.

Usually I drop by Subway no earlier than noon, and mostly it's supper time. But today I walked in about 10:10 am, which is 10 minutes after the place opens. And, apparently, at least 20 minutes or so before they should have opened.

Two staff members visible. One is shuffling trays of bread around in the warming box. The other is making a 6" B.M.T. sub for a girl of about, I don't know, maybe 12 or 13 (I'm no judge of age). Sounds simple, but she (the Subway employee) seems to be making a hard time of it, and it doesn't help that the other woman keeps interrupting her with questions about what she's supposed to be doing with the bread. When she gets as far as the veggies, she asks the girl if she wants lettuce and tomatoes, even though the tomato bin is empty. Once she gets the sandwich put together, the girl reminds her she wants a combo.

Finally they get to the cash register, and the Subway woman goes all to pieces because, apparently, the register has reverted to some kind of startup display because they hadn't done anything with it for too long, and she doesn't know how to revive it. She fetches a calculator, and then tries to recall how much a 6" BMT costs. Clearly she normally depends on the cash register to supply this information for her. The girl rolls her eyes and points out that the price is on the big menu sign on the wall. Then the woman has to add on for the combo and, presumably, figure sales tax before announcing that it comes to $5.27. (I don't think that was right, but hey, it's none of my business.) The girl finally pays her and departs. So now she can wait on me, right?

Uh, no. The breadtray-shuffling woman has abandoned the rising bread dough to try to raise someone on the phone to find out how to wake up the cash register -- which turns out to be to press "S" -- and to try to scare up some tomatoes for the empty bin, so the first woman has to go finish sprinkling cheese shreds on the dough and putting it away. Finally, it's my turn, and she lays out a piece of paper and asks what I want. A foot-long ham and cheese on wheat bread, I say. She picks up some slices of ham and stares at the paper for a moment before realizing she needs to put some bread down on it first. Returning the ham to the bin, she finds a wheat bread roll, slices it open, and then asks me again what it was I wanted. Ham and cheese, I remind her. She lays slices of ham rather randomly on the bread and starts sliding the paper down to the veggies before remembering I wanted cheese and goes back for the provolone.

Now it's veggie time. I would like lettuce and tomato, I say, but the tomato bin is still bereft of tomatoes, which apparently the other woman has been unable to find. Sandwich-making woman heads to the back room to trap a tomato. By now the girl is back -- it appears her father is in the car and now she needs to get a sandwich for him -- and looking thoroughly disgusted with the "service". I have to agree with her. The woman finally emerges from the back room with exactly 5 slices of tomato, which she places on my sandwich. With vast relief I pay for my sub -- No, I do not want a combo -- and escape.

At lunchtime, I found she hadn't even put any napkins in the bag. For all I know, that poor girl is probably still trying to buy a sandwich for her dad.

Man, do I ever miss the Kwans' Subway on Granby Street.