Sandwiches, White Men & Cashiers — Oh My!

sandwichThe Universe must be in a sandwichy mood because it seems to be the topic du jour.

I’ve spent a good portion of my day laughing and assessing the case of a woman who, by her claims, is using creative sandwich recipes to receive an engagement ring from her beau. I’ve had enough assessing the story to be quite honest. In a nutshell I think homegirl is gunning for a show/book/movie deal, probably needs some black friends and may have a douchy boyfriend. But hey, she gets to make sandwiches for someone while I make bomb ass meals for me, myself and Veronica — my alter-ego. I guess she’s the one winning here. Whatever.

In the midst of all this fun and fuckery on twitter, I decided to head to my local Pret-A-Manger for, you probably guessed it, a sammich. I walk the two blocks down from my building in mid-town Manhattan to find the place packed with professionals scrambling to pick something up and possibly head back to the office to do the bite, chew and email tango that so many of us know too well. I decide on a chicken, avocado and bacon sandwich, fruit cup and iced tea and mosey over to pay for them. The lines are long but move quite rapidly and I soon find myself the next person up…until…an older white man feels the need to flex his white privilege and abruptly cut in front of me and place his items on the counter. Chile, yes! -___-

The cashier who would’ve been handling my purchase is in shock, but he continues to do his job and throws me glances that seem to say, “Wow. I’m sorry.” I am fuming. The bitch in me wants to thrust a mean knee in this man’s groin, but I decide to let my wit handle this. I tap the white man on the shoulder, and say quite loudly enough for those around us to hear “Did that lil stunt right there help your balls drop?” His eyebrows meet his hairline, and his pale, chapped lips form an “O”. I suppose he wasn’t expecting me to say anything.

The cashier handling theline on my right signals to me and I am finally able to pay for my food — except he doesn’t let me. He winks and says, “that was dope – what you did right there. You’re tiny but tough.” Fuck yeah I’m beaming off of that compliment. He puts the items in a paper bag and hands them to me. He tells me his name, and I express my gratitude at his gesture.

Receiving free food will never not make a good day great.

** And yes, for those of you who are wondering and keep asking — new installment of the Song Chronicles will be up this week.

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