The Majestic Summit • Donna Novak
MY JOB AS A SANDWICH ARTIST A customer walks in, cell phone in hand; I can’t get her attention. She won’t get off the phone at all, to make a selection. How rude must she be? She’s wasting my time; can’t she see? I pile on her veggies; she whines for more. She always does this; I knew she would again the second I saw her walk into the door. She asks for more still. I want to pile it all on her, down to every last dill. She makes her way to the register. The next person can deal with her. Dishes in the back pile higher. More help tonight is what I desire. To add to it all, getting employees to work is like having a brawl. Oh how some days I would rather not be here. I’d rather be at home drinking a beer. A job is a job, I suppose. But the stress of this job, I’d like to dispose. Oh this job as a sandwich artist, one day I vow I will depart this. • Benjamin Cole
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