My regular joe

I recently became a regular at my breakfast sandwich cart guy. I used to eat the breakfast sandwiches at Dunkin’ Donuts. Those breakfast sandwiches weren’t great, but seeing as how Dunkin’ Donuts sells a product which they label “coffee” but which I’m fairly certain is made by combining happiness and crack, I wasn’t complaining. Recently, though, Dunkin’ Donuts decided to make a push into lunch foods, they sell mini-pizzas and paninis and all sorts of stuff now, and to do so they brought in all new ovens in all their stores. I don’t see good things in store for this business venture as these new ovens now make their breakfast sandwiches taste like slabs of vulcanized rubber, slathered with ketchup, and placed between two dried out boards of cork.

It says a lot about how bad these sandwiches are that I now actually make two stops on my way to work, one for D+D coffee and another for a decent sandwich. Then again, it says a lot about how much I love Dunkin’ Donuts coffee that I’ll still sometimes say to hell with it and just order one of their sandwiches.

This is not my point. My point is that at the new guy I go to for my morning dose of salted meat and bread I recently became a regular. Which sucks. Before becomming a regular I was able to order what I wanted. Since becomming a regular the guy now spots me in line, smiles, and then calls my order back to the woman manning the grill, even though that might not be what I want on that particular day. But I’m stuck. I’m a regular. You can’t demote yourself back to a normal person once you become a regular. Oh no. He knows me. We have a rapport. If I correct him now on what I want for my order, I don’t just go back to the way things were, instead I backslide even further and move from “regular” down to “asshole.”

So I’m stuck. I have to order the same thing for at least another month before I can decide to “switch it up today” and order something else.

Whatever. Go start reading about Matthew and Epp.