Is there something confusing about the words, "Just a little mayo?" No? Yeah, I didn't think so either.
Which is why when I said, "Just a little mayo," and Homeboy Sandwich Artist From the Upper Middle Class Ghetto proceeded to squirt no less than sixteen bands of mayo on my sandwich, I got a little pissed. And then. When I said, "Yeah. I said 'a little mayo' and that is a lot," he responded with, "oh." Not "Oh I am sorry, let me fix that for you." Just "oh." I looked at Kenny. I looked back at Homeboy Sandwich Artist. For reals? Let me break it down for you so can understand it.
Ahem. "I sed I be wantin' just a 'lil ma-yo." He removes one band of mayo. Progress. But, um? Really? I stare at him. He stares back, bored. After a few minutes of me saying nothing, he wraps up my sandwich. No, vegetables. No oil and vinegar. No salt and pepper. Nothing. He asks me nothing. He offers nothing. Just a club sandwich covered in mayo.
Fucking Sandwich Artist my ass. I knew there was a reason I only went to Quiznos.