Sandwiched!

Happy February 1st! Only one shopping day left before Groundhog Day.
February starts with F.
And F stands for Feast.
As in the new Subway Feast available at participating Subway restaurants. The Feast is stacked, packed and racked with spicy Pepperoni, Genoa Salami, Black Forest Ham, tender Roast Beef, Turkey and American Cheese, topped by your favorite veggies and sauces, piled high on freshly baked bread.
Double Stack that, add a 32oz. soda and a bag of chips and you've almost got yourself a meal there, pal.
But this is not a blog about sandwiches. Although I could dedicate an entire blog to sandwiches. Not just one entry. Scores and scores of blog entries about sandwiches and only sandwiches. There is nothing I don't like about sandwiches. Mmmmm....sandwiches.
However, recent events have transpired that have put a bad taste in my mouth. So to speak.
As I have indicated in the past, I work in a building with well over 500 people in it. As you can imagine, there are plenty of off-the-wall folks to keep me entertained.
Take this one woman for example: For the longest time, I thought she was a homeless woman living in our cafeteria. Every time I went down to buy a coke, she would be there in the same spot, by herself, eating a sandwich. Every time - morning, noon, and, well, afternoon. So naturally, I nicknamed her Sandwich.
Sandwich wore the same thing everyday, ate the same sandwich everyday, and generally had a hardscrabble look about her.
So one day, a co-worker and I decided to investigate the origins of Sandwich. We followed her to the elevators where we discovered that she did, in fact, work here and was not merely a hungry streetperson.
We even went as far as following her to her cubicle, where, according to her name placard, we discovered that her name was not Sandwich. Her name was much more normal and boring, so we continued to refer to her as Sandwich. This, we think, is hilarious.
Now I handle a lot of legal H.R. issues here and employee complaints trickle into my office on a semi-regular basis. However, (irony of all ironies) what should I find upon returning from my investigation?
You guessed it - A complaint regarding Sandwich.
Now I've had some pretty 'out-there' complaints in the past, but this one took the cake. She had been cited for among many other things (wait for it):


SANDWICHING a co-worker between two rolling file cabinets.


It said this right there in the complaint. Make this up, I cannot.
The unbelievable irony continued, however, when days later, I (anonymously) shared an elevator with Sandwich and one of her fellow employees. As they were commiserating about the stresses of the job, the following conversation took place:

Sandwich

"As if this ain't bad enough, I gots to go to work right after this."

Friend of Sandwich

"Where do you work."

Sandwich

"Subway."

Me

{stiffles fits of giggling}

Jared Fogle (not actually in elevator, but somewhere is saying)

"Eat Fresh".