Tag Archives: deli

I’ll take no for an answer

I’ll totally take no for an answer. No? That’s cool, thanks anyway. Like, I was at the deli the other day, I asked for a pound of peppermill turkey and half a pound of jack cheese. I went home to make myself a sandwich and I opened up those cold cuts. It wasn’t what I had ordered at all. Instead of turkey it was some sort of prosciutto, and the cheese, I don’t even know what this stuff was, it looked like army fatigues, you know, if instead of green and brown they used yellow and white and a slightly less yellow-yellow.


So I went back to the deli, I mean normally I wouldn’t even bother, but the deli is only like a block away from my house. Maybe they messed up my order? Maybe somebody elsen accidentally received my stuff? It was all within the realm of possibility. But when I went to the counter guy, when I asked him, “Hey, did you give me the wrong order?” he just looked at me and said, “No.”

And like I said, whatever, I’ll take no for an answer, I’m easygoing like that, I like being easygoing, I like imagining people talking about me, saying stuff like, “Rob’s really easygoing, never causes any problems.” I went home and made myself the weirdest sandwich I’ve ever eaten in my life. Prosciutto, first of all, I’m not like a huge prosciutto guy, but it’s usually sliced very thin.

Really thin, actually, the few times I’ve found myself talking about prosciutto or reading about it, the thinner the better, that’s what I’ve always taken away. But this stuff was thick, like Virginia ham thick. I didn’t even know how to go about building a sandwich out of this stuff. Like, I’ve had prosciutto with melon, prosciutto wrapped around asparagus.

You know, I said that I’m not a huge prosciutto guy, but now that I’m talking about it, I guess I’ve had more experience with prosciutto than I’ve let on. It’s not my go-to deli meat of choice, hardly, but yeah, I guess it’s in a lot more of my diet than I previously admitted. Like when you go to an Italian restaurant, whatever the special is, it’s always something either stuffed with or wrapped in prosciutto. Stuffed veal with prosciutto. Chicken cutlets wrapped in prosciutto with a wine sauce. Always.

I’ve heard you’re only supposed to use one slice, really, because prosciutto has such an intense flavor. But I was hungry, I had planned on making a piled-high turkey sandwich. I went for two, hoping to offset the taste with extra cheese. But even that, the cheese was so weird tasting. It was kind of smoky, but with almost jelly-like overtones. I’d never tasted anything like it.

Finally, I took a bite, and it was like, I couldn’t even chew through the prosciutto, the ribbons of marbled fat proved way too much for my teeth. After sitting there chewing for upwards of a minute, I finally just tried to swallow whatever was in my mouth, and I almost choked.

Kind of defeated, I eventually just went back to the deli to have them make me a sandwich. Yeah, I felt kind of silly just throwing my money away, but hey, I don’t want to cause any problems, there are so many people just trying their best, going about their days. Who am I to cause a problem?

It was the same deli guy, I told him what I wanted, he didn’t say anything, he just went right for the meat, right over to the slicer. “Hey man, you heard me say peppermill turkey, right? Not oven-gold, right?” But there wasn’t any response, he put way too much mayo, even though I said, “Easy mayo, please.”

But it was fine, you’re not going to catch me whining about a sandwich. Maybe I’ll grow to like mayo even more after this sandwich. I’m just waiting to get really hungry before I take that first bite. I mean, right now, it looks a little unpalatable, but I’ll get there, sooner or later I’ll be shaking, everything will look tasty. And is that really such a big deal? So I have to wait a little longer to eat. I should have such problems, right? Because I’m not looking for a fight, I’m trying to be easygoing. Where everyone else causes a stink, just don’t worry about me, I’ll totally take no for an answer.

Stuck in a downpour on some street in the city

It rained the other day for maybe twenty minutes, but it was a hard rain, it came out of nowhere. The sky was blue in the morning, it was blue all the way through lunchtime, but at around one or one thirty, all of the sudden it started getting black, really dark. I didn’t know what to do, because I had my bike with me, and so it’s always this dilemma, do I chain it up and make a break for the subway? Should I attempt taking it with me underground? Or might I even feel desperate enough to try and bike through the storm, to tough it out for the four or so miles back to my house?


I didn’t have any time to think either, because once the rain started, it was pouring. There was no gradual build up, like usually you might feel a few drops here and there, something that eventually turns into a steady sprinkling. No, this was like a light switch, off to on in an instant. I was already twenty-five percent soaked, and while I briefly considered chalking it up as a loss, I worried about the cell phone in my pocket, what if the intensity of this downpour was enough to breach the waterproof properties of my backpack?

My decision was to find some coffee shop or deli to duck into for a few minutes, to stay dry while simultaneously thinking through a next step. But where specifically could I go? The coffee shop and deli ideas didn’t really appeal to me. For one thing, I’m sure everybody else on the street was having the same thought, and so I’d be fighting the crowd just to get inside.

And if I made it in, then what? I could just picture the people behind the counter at either of those locations, all of them thinking, “Here we go, lots of customers, time to move here.” But nobody really wants anything to eat or drink, we’d all just be seeking refuge, maybe pretending to look at the menu, “Give me another minute, please,” acting like paying customers, finally some manager or owner making a loud announcement, “Look, this isn’t a shelter, it’s a business. Buy something or leave.”

It came to me, the giant bookstore was only a few blocks down. That would be perfect. I could pretend to read books, or I didn’t even have to pretend, the employees there don’t care if you’re spending money or not. I started to run but there were obstacles everywhere, all of the sudden everyone had an umbrella out.

And this I never understand. How is it that everyone in the world is so prepared for an unexpected downpour except for me? Where are people keeping these umbrellas? Because I never notice them when it’s not raining, like if there’s a stretch of five days in a row without so much as a drop, you’d think I’d see umbrellas sticking out of bags or people holding umbrellas. Have you ever seen city umbrellas? They’re huge. It’s like we’re all so used to everything small, small apartments, small portions, virtually no personal space everywhere, but then it starts to rain and there’s a mass protest, “I don’t care if there’s not enough room for everyone in this city to carry a giant four-foot diameter umbrella, I’m doing it, you get out of my way.”

All of the umbrella spokes are exactly at my eye level, and so I wasn’t only trying to beat the rain, but I was attempting to avoid having anything gouged out. Where do you even buy a giant umbrella anyway? The only ones I ever see are the cheap-o black plastic kind, the ones that, even if you’re using them, you’re still getting wet. Depending on how you hold it, either your back’s dry, or your front, but not both. I always thought, that’s the price we pay for living in a city, right? We can’t all have giant umbrellas. There’s simply not enough space on the streets.

I finally made it to the bookstore and the usually vacant looking security guard standing out front put his hand up, “Sorry boss,” he told me, “You’re soaking wet.”

“Exactly!” I protested, “That’s why I’m trying to get inside.”

“No can do,” he wasn’t even looking at me, he was still blankly staring across the street, keeping his eyes open for potential shoplifters I guess, “You’ll get all of the books wet. It’s not going to happen.”

“What do you care?” I was getting pissed off now, “I could spend all day in this bookstore reading every single book on the shelf for free. Talk about wasting money. But now you’re worried that I might wet a page or two? What kind of a business model is that?”

It was a pointless argument. I was already soaked. I figured that I might as well make the ride home, I couldn’t get any wetter. By the way, I was wrong, I could get wetter, so wet that it felt like my sneakers had become supersaturated, each step a dramatic slosh-slosh sound.

I came back to that same bookstore the next day and made it a point to collect a huge stack of books. Then I went right by the entrance and sat Indian style while I pretended to read every book, licking my finger each time I turned the page. But the guard didn’t even look my way, not even once, even though I kept coughing, a big, fake, “Cough! Cough!” sound. And I was too busy paying attention to the security guard that I didn’t even get to really enjoy any of the reading. I was just pretend reading really. What a waste of a day. What a waste of two days, if you count the first day that I spent just totally getting absolutely soaked to the core.

So many possibilities

You, give me five dollars. Go into your pocket, find five dollars, and then give it to me. I’ll make change. I’ve got change. And I’d like more change. More money. Yours. It’s either give me five dollars willfully, or face the possibility that I might go ahead and demand ten dollars, this time a little bit more aggressively. I’m not threatening. That’s just a possibility. The universe is full of possibilities. I’m just pointing out one rather peaceful possibility, you giving me five dollars, in contrast to a slightly more violent possibility, me taking ten dollars. Who am I to say what’s going to wind up happening? I’m no fortuneteller. I’m just a guy, standing in front of another guy, asking him to give up five dollars. Does that really sound like such a big deal?

And you. I’d like five dollars from you also. In addition, I’d like you to walk over to that deli and buy me a sandwich. Peppermill turkey on a hero, lettuce, tomato, mayo and mustard. And a soda. If it comes with a pickle, great, if not, I want a small bag of chips. And don’t think that I won’t be waiting outside, because I will be waiting outside. Again, I can’t predict the future, I mean, I can predict it, I just can’t tell how accurate those predictions will wind up being.

You. You heard all of that stuff I was saying to those other two guys, right? Well, I want all of the same stuff from you, but pick me up a couple of scratch-offs while you’re in there. Listen, you can put away that cell phone or you can keep dialing whatever number you’re dialing. I can put down my fist or I can clench it even tighter.

It’s crazy, all of the possibilities, all of the different scenarios I can imagine. You ever hear about any multiverse theories? Like just because something’s not happening in this universe doesn’t mean that it isn’t happening somewhere else. Actually, I think that it has to be happening somewhere else. Like there are an infinite amount of universes, one for each possibility. So while it’s almost crazy to think about me getting very, very violent over you not giving me five bucks, a sandwich, some Lotto tickets, and a ride home, it’s even crazier to think that somewhere in some parallel universe, that’s exactly what’s happening.

I’m no scientist, but if I were in your shoes, and I did subscribe to this multiverse mumbo-jumbo, I’d be doing everything in my power to make sure that this universe doesn’t wind up turning out to be that universe, the one where I start going off-the-wall nutso just because some knucklehead won’t hand over what amounts to less than twenty dollars worth of deli purchases, a quick ride home, and a very brief stop in your bathroom.

Because who’s to say, right? Like who’s to really say that I will or won’t do anything? You. Go over to that guy in the deli and tell him that I forgot to ask for onions on my sandwich. You. Make sure that that other guy over there is buying me the good scratch-offs, not those cheap-o dollar tickets. Because that wasn’t the deal. And if I wasn’t specific in this universe, well, I’m sure there are a near-infinite number of me lookalikes somewhere out there that would beg to differ.

And not the five dollar ones either, make them the tens, the big ones, the ones with thirty-two chances to win. That’s a lot of chances. Think about me maybe winning the jackpot. Somewhere it’s got to happen, right? I mean, statistically speaking, I should be rich somewhere out there, you know what I’m saying? Like, what’s thirty two chances times infinity?

So much construction

There’s so much construction going on in my neighborhood. Every day it’s like I see another set of bulldozers and heavy machinery occupying two, three, four parking spots down the block, right next door, orange cones and yellow tape letting all of the neighbors know, listen up, there’s going to be a lot of work going on, so don’t even think about parking your car here.


And they start tearing down all of the old buildings, the two-story houses, which by itself sometimes takes like a month or two, I think, you know, I’m thinking about how long it takes, and I actually have no idea, I’m not really paying attention that closely. I hope there aren’t any carpenters or construction workers reading this, thinking that I’m full of shit. Even though I am mostly full of shit.

The houses go down and then it’s nonstop noise for like the next six months. It takes forever. They get these giant pounding machines, I don’t even know how to describe them other than that they’re really tall, they have these huge weights that get hoisted all the way up, and then, again, I have no idea what’s going on, but it’s like a rapid-fire pounding, like a big giant hammer hammering something into the earth. I don’t get it. What are they doing, building a foundation? Wasn’t there a foundation there before?

I can never get any sandwiches anymore. Every time I go to the deli there are like twelve guys standing around with orange vests and hardhats on. “Hey are you guys in line?” and nobody looks at me, they’re all too busy ordering sandwiches and joking around. Obviously the deli guy wants them as priority customers. That’s like fifty guaranteed lunches every day for however long it’s going to take to put up whatever it is they’re putting up. Me, I just get a sandwich every other day, maybe every three days.

And so I’m sitting here in my house and the “Pching! Pching! Pching!” of the pounding machine finally comes to an end. I’m like, OK, great, ten minutes of quiet before the hydraulics or whatever finish resting so they can start in on a new round of pounding, but this time it’s different. There’s no new pounding. I’m thinking, is this it? Can we finally get back to normal?

But then fifteen minutes later somebody started jackhammering. And I thought that the pounding was bad, but after only maybe thirty seconds of jackhammering, I’m already dreaming of the days when the only thing I had to complain about was the pounding. And it’s not really just the noise that bothers me. Although, sure, the noise of a jackhammer is really, really annoying.

It’s something else. It’s a jealousy. Every time I see or hear a jackhammer, I’m always reminded of the fact that I’ve never once used a jackhammer in my entire life, and the more time that goes by, the more unlikely it is that I’ll ever get to use one. I’ll take my dog for a walk past the construction site, there are these thin blue plywood walls around the perimeter, but I can see over them, see through the cracks, and I look at these guys with their hard hats and safety goggles, and I can always tell that whoever is using the jackhammer, it’s like he barely has a grip on what he’s doing.

I should be doing the jackhammer. I think that, and again, I don’t have any real heavy equipment experience, but come on, I’m much taller than everybody else, definitely taller than your average construction worker, and so it’s like, I’ll definitely have more leverage, like I can position my body in such a way as to really maximize the jacking while not having to sacrifice any of the hammering. Most construction guys, I see them standing straight up, holding the jackhammer parallel to their body, and I see in my mind, me, at an angle with the jackhammer, we’re both at an angle, and I’m transferring all of my energy, making a jack-triangle against the earth, maximum jack.

But none of these guys ever take me seriously. One time I walked my dog by the job when the guys were all hanging out taking a coffee break. I was like, hey guys, any way I could get a chance with the jackhammer? And it’s not like they even laughed at me. I mean like, one guy kind of laughed, but everybody else just gave me this kind of annoyed look, barely even taking their eyes off of their coffees and their cigarettes.

I saw a different group in the deli the next day. Guys? But nobody was paying attention to me, everybody just constantly shuffling along the deli aisles, excuse me, coming through, taking all of the good sodas, the best bags of chips, and could I at least order a sandwich? Maybe get a little lunch, please? Hello?

These stupid goddamn idiot stupid morons

I just hate it when people cut me off in traffic. That’s so stupid. They’re so stupid. I’m trying to drive too. And now they’re in front of me. Stupid idiots. And then they start driving really slow. That’s stupid also. Like get out of my way, man, so stupid.

You know what’s really stupid? Hopscotch. Hopscotch is so stupid. Oh wow look at me, I’m a little kid, drawing some stupid boxes with chalk. Oh and I don’t even know how to make all the boxes the same size, because I’m such an idiot. And then I’m going to take turns with my idiot friends and we’re going to throw a bunch of stupid rocks over and over again. And we’re all going to look so stupid, just hopping around. Hop, I get it. Everyone’s hopping. But scotch? It doesn’t have anything to do with scotch. What a stupid name, hopscotch.

I would always try and run up to those idiot little kids and push them over while they hopping around, pushing them right out of those stupid little boxes. Or I would just stand right in the middle of the hopscotch board. “Go ahead and try something,” I’d say, “you stupid idiots.” And some of those idiot kids would start crying and screaming, running away to go tell the teacher on me. But my teachers were all such idiots, such morons. I’d just throw my hands in the air and say stuff like, “What? Come on! I didn’t! No! That’s not true!” and the teacher was so stupid, eventually she’d just be like, “OK now, enough! All of you!” Ha! All of us. Including those idiot babies playing stupid hopscotch.

The other day I went to go get a sandwich at the deli. I told that stupid deli guy, “No lettuce or tomato! I hate lettuce and tomato! OK? Got it?” Do you know what that stupid moron deli guy did? That idiot, you know what he put on my sandwich? Lettuce and tomato. That idiot! I said, “No lettuce or tomato!” and what does he put on my sandwich? Both of them. That stupid moron idiot stupid deli guy. What kind of an idiot puts lettuce and tomato on a sandwich when I clearly said, “Hey! You! I want a sandwich, but I don’t want any lettuce or tomato! Hello? Hello? No lettuce or tomato! Do you understand me? Does this guy understand me? No! Lettuce! Or! Tomato!” I don’t know why that stupid deli has to go and hire the stupidest idiots to work at their deli section. Jesus Christ, it’s a sandwich, and I told him over and over again not to put any lettuce or tomato on it. That moron. What an idiot.

You know what else I just can’t stand? These idiot people around my neighborhood that keep walking their stupid dogs in front of my house. Keep your flea infested mutt away from my house. Walk on the other side, you idiot. I always just stay by my front door and I say as loud as I can whenever a dog walker walks his smelly dog in front of my house, stuff like, “Stupid dogs! I hate dogs! Get that flea ridden mutt away from my property! You goddamn nuisances!”

Or these stupid leaves. Every fall that stupid tree in front of my house starts losing its stupid leaves. What an idiot tree. I’m telling you, what kind of a tree keeps losing its leaves every single year? Come on! And one by one, right in front of my house. So I have to go out there with some stupid rake and I have to start raking these stupid leaves, and then when I’m done, that idiot tree is at it again, shaking in the wind, dropping leaves everywhere.

That reminds me. Did I tell you about that idiot sandwich guy yet? Please don’t even get me started. If you went to a deli and ordered a sandwich, and you told that idiot deli guy over and over and over and over again, “Hey buddy! Did you put any lettuce or tomato on that sandwich? Hello? What is that? Is that lettuce? What about that over there, is that lettuce? Lift that up. Lift it up so I can see if there’s any lettuce or tomato under there,” what would you expect to find when you opened up that sandwich? I bet you it wouldn’t be lettuce or tomato. And what if you saw lettuce and tomato, not just one, but both, both lettuce and tomato? Wouldn’t you feel like an idiot? Wouldn’t you feel like that no good idiot goddamn stupid goddamn deli guy was just so stupid, the stupidest deli guy in the word, can’t even figure out how to not put lettuce and tomato on a goddamn sandwich? I’m telling you, this guy, I almost feel bad for him, for how stupid he is. I should have just made my own sandwich. Goddamn lettuce and goddamn stupid tomato.