I know, Brokeback jokes are already totally over. But I do have a troubled relationship with PaM, which is the closest sandwich shop to my freelance magazine job. I swear it off, and then it lures me back. Last time it hooked me was with a hot, hot new manager and some good chocolate croissants. But then I had some more weird soggy sandwiches, and gave it up again. Until this week.
This week I failed to buy breakfast stuff for home, which is the perfect excuse for a chocolate croissant and a little rekindling of the flame with the manager. I waltz into PaM, and not only are they out of croissants, but my beloved is nowhere to be seen–he must’ve gone back to play acoustic guitar in the lefty student bar in whatever Latin American city he’s from.
Sulk. Sulk. Sulk. Fine. I’ll have some freakin’ oatmeal.
Which was awesome! They add granola and raisins and sesame seeds, and then ladle on some maple syrup. And by the time you get to your desk, it’s all congealed perfectly. And only $3. Oh, and the new manager is not bad-looking either, if you like a tall, sharp-dressed black man.
So then on top of it all, I’m sitting at my desk today thinking, Time for a sandwich. I wish PaM made half sandwiches. Guess I’ll have to choke a whole one down…
And then I wander downstairs and, you guessed it, they now have half sandwiches. I kind of resent the “Pret Slim” label and the side-of-box copy that suggests you’d only eat these if you’re dieting, but I guess they can’t really say you might want to eat them if you just plain get tired of a whole damn soggy Pret sandwich. Or if you don’t have all that much cash that day, or have already filled up on cupcakes that were sitting around the office.
Oh, and they have that nice credit-card system where you don’t have to sign anything.
I just don’t know what to think anymore. I might have to take PaM back.