h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

There is a sandwich franchise in Australia called Subway: I understand it to be as globally pervasive as the peculiarly offensive trademark odour that comes with it.

I am in any case not a keen patron of franchise food outlets having once received a discourse on the subject from the proprietor of a superbly traditional cafeteria type establishment in the Astronomy Capital of Australia - Coonabarabran. But, I am especially particular to avoid Subway on account of - the stink aside - the wholly confrontational method of procurement which requires the unpractised customer to make lunch-changing decisions about food without full and proper assessment of the available options.

Today however it was my fate that I should be required to order a sandwich in Subway without disturbing the delicate symbiosis which exists between customer queue and chain gang.

“Yes please?”
“BMT please, whatever that is.”
“Big Meaty Taste - salami, pepperoni and ham. Bread?”

Noting my confusion, a good samaritan indicated in front of me the selection of six types of bread. "Yes please, I'm ordering a sandwich" was patently not the expected response.

“Ah, wholegrain.”
“Cheese - Swiss or English?”
“Swiss.”
“Salad?”
“Please.”

I am married and am familiar with that impatient look. Minimalist dialogue was to ensue.

“Lettuce, tomato, and onion. And jalapenos.”

The superfluous "and" almost a bridge too far. I didn't dare add "And cucumber".

“Salt, pepper”
“Yes.”

They were premixed in the same shaker just as she'd said it. Luckily I like both in the prescribed proportions.

“Sauce?”
“Hot chilli.”

A parcel large enough for a small family to enjoy a modest picnic was duly wrapped and paid for.

I took this to a quiet corner and scoffed the lot. It barely touched the sides as it went down.

I think I am addicted, maybe to the smell. I might have another tomorrow.

I was lucky enough to first visit Subway with my son who explained the system to me before I went in. But, even if you've thought through beforehand what you want, the quick-fire questioning is very disconcerting and detracts from any enjoyment of the food. I didn't want mine grilled, but plumped for the option in the end because it didn't look very appetising ungrilled.

The principle is good, but the experience was not enjoyable. And, anyway, they are impossible to eat - the contents drip all over the place.

Not going again.

Sorry, Trout, my plain answer does rather spoil the effect of your beautifully written story.

I enjoyed reading your Subway experience too, Trout Thanks for that

Joni Mitchell: "the craziness of too much choice" seems apt here.