The Sandwich That Changed Everything

One day, Bill wandered into one of those giant grocery store chains and bravely attempted to order a sandwich at the deli. There were several people waiting in line, but he was hungry and willing to wait it out.

On a good day, he might get a sandwich maker who hadn’t thought about their ex once since the lunch rush started. But on other days, it seemed as if the deli staff had taken the day off, leaving the bagger in charge. This must have been one of those days… On this particular day, the guy working the counter looked like he’d only ever made sandwiches in theory, possibly while blindfolded, or maybe as a dare. Bill watched him make a sandwich, and it made him cringe. It was the kind of experience that made him question everything: The sandwich, himself, the concept of lunch, the passage of time, and whether bread was a mistake. The sandwich maker sneezed near the pickles and kept going. He fumbled the tomatoes. The customers all just watched. Nobody said a word. Bill was one step away from leaping over the counter to rescue both the deli clerk and the sandwich.

One of the customers ahead of him fearlessly ordered an Italian sandwich on a soft roll, a classic choice, but one requiring more skill than this deli hero possessed. The deli clerk stared at the selection of lunchmeat as if they had personally wronged him, then grabbed sliced white bread instead of a roll. At this point, Bill was convinced they pulled him away from scrubbing toilets to fill in at the deli (hopefully, he read the hand-washing safety rules). The poor customer had to redirect him at least three times before the sandwich resembled the picture on the menu. By the time he finally started wrapping it up ...Oh wait, he forgot to cut it in half. That’s when Bill heard the entire crowd’s deflated sighs. The clerk had to unwrap, cut, and rewrap, which somehow turned this sandwich into a Rubik’s Cube, and they could only hope he didn’t forget the cheese. At that point, Bill realized: if he waited any longer, lunch would become dinner, and he’d have to order breakfast for his next meal. Maybe that deli disaster was the last nudge Bill needed to change his diet.

For the past two years, Bill had been riding the health kick train. He was in his late 60s and figured it was time to get as healthy as possible before his warranty expired. His day started at 5 am: Coffee ...A 24-oz mug of Cuban Espresso, but brewed like a regular blend, with cream and honey, followed by his ritual of squinting at emails and painfully reading the news, and then a quick workout. He found a 10-minute chair workout on YouTube that supposedly worked every muscle group, if you count yawning as a muscle. He constantly bragged that the YouTube chair workout really did work, because now, he could see his abs! Then come the pushups. Two years ago, five pushups would have landed him in traction. Today, he breaks out 40 every morning and another 20 before bed, which is 60 more than he ever thought possible at his age.

He backed off red meat and switched to the Pescatarian Diet a while back, shoveling in enough seafood and veggies to make his mother, who lived to 100 on this diet, nod approvingly from that great salad bar in the sky. His lunches were veggie sandwiches loaded with cucumber, lettuce, tomato, avocado, sauerkraut, and smoked Gouda cheese on multi-grain bread. Breakfast was a high-protein extravaganza: corn tortillas topped with black beans and three fried eggs, ...or a smoked salmon omelet if he was feeling fancy. And no forgetting the blended smoothies: Organic kale, strawberries, blueberries, a green banana, and flax seeds, all blended into a concoction that looked like a tall glass of mud, but could probably power a Prius. He sounded like a spokesman for the blender company. “If you haven’t tried this blender, treat yourself. Mine is 13 years old and still going strong, like a Toyota.” It was the kitchen equivalent of a vintage sports car.

Last year, Bill also stopped drinking. But he reminds people that he says ‘stopped, not ‘quit’? ‘Quit’ sounded too final, and he liked to keep his options open in case there was a global wine tsunami, and he needed to step in. For now, though, he was loving the extra energy and motivation every morning. All those changes in the last two years had paid off: He dropped 30 pounds and felt fantastic. He now had the body of a 30-year-old and the mind of a 16-year-old (And no, they weren’t locked in his trunk). He was down to 182 pounds from 212, and could squeeze into the same size jeans he wore in high school, so he donated the bulk of his old pants and shopped for new ones, but couldn’t find any bell-bottoms.

Now, the real trick was figuring out how to feed himself when he was out and about. He tried packing all his supplies into a cooler, but building a veggie sandwich in the field (or in his car) was too sloppy, and he didn’t like shopping at those big grocery chains much, unless he needed toilet paper, a half-gallon of dish soap, or a reminder of why he started making his own sandwiches in the first place. And there’s no way he was explaining his veggie sandwich order to a high school deli clerk; He’d probably end up with a ‘lettuce and mustard surprise’.

Luckily, his town had one of those big fancy gourmet grocery markets, his grocery oasis. Where he could wander through the aisles and find that rare bottle of Mongolian body wash or that special cowboy barbecue sauce made by some guy named Ned, who lived on a ranch down the road. He could buy his flax seeds in bulk, and they always had an enormous selection of organic vegetables, not to mention every local egg source a person could ever desire. There, he could give sandwich instructions like a drill sergeant, and they had every ingredient on his list. Plus, they employed enough people to staff a small country, so the lines moved fast.

And Wednesdays were ‘Senior discount day’, which sounded peaceful enough, until he realized he’d been sitting in the parking lot for 20 minutes, mentally screaming at a tan Buick to ‘hurry up and back out’ before finding himself white-knuckling his way through a sea of old people, then eventually remembering that he was one of them. And since they’re a local chain, he got to support the little guy and avoid contributing to corporate giants while avoiding another deli disaster.

…So, with his newfound life choices and his healthy food options, the only guilt he carried now is from the 80’s.

These days, Bill skips the chain store deli chaos and heads straight to his favorite gourmet market, where his veggie-loaded sandwich is made right in front of him and assembled just the way he likes it.

He takes it outside and finds a shaded picnic table, peels open the wrapping, and displays a satisfied grin just before taking that first perfect bite, no stress, no surprises, just lunch …his way.

Bill smiled, kept eating.

Bon appetit.