+ LaVarious.com: A wonderland of uselessness

My friends, how I have missed you, but how angry I have been because…well…I am always angry. I am a bitter fat hermit and nothing will stop me. Read on to watch me vent my pent-up frustrations on Quiznos because I think they are all mongoliods and I had nothing better to do this Sunday. I am sure their corporate office will love the letter I longingly penned to them. Plus, I am trying to gear up for my Halloween article and I didn’t want to leave you hanging that long.

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Dear Quiznos,

I have been a loyal customer to your delectable sandwich shop since 1999 and usually visit a Quiznos about once a week. Yes, you can also tell I visit your shop every week because of my girth and the fact that I have to be buttered up to fit through doorways, but that isn’t really the point. I can’t pinpoint what draws me there since you have so much to offer such as tasty salads, delicious subs, delightful soups, not to mention your snicker doodle cookies are to-die-for. That all changed the day the gates of hell opened and I found demon flesh in my Black Angus on Rosemary Parmesan Bread. Okay, I didn’t technically find the festering pus-filled epidermis of a hell-walker in my meal, but that is only because I never ordered a meal.

I visited your Quiznos Store #2814 on Baseline and Ellsworth in Mesa, Arizona on Saturday, October 7th, 2006. We had been to this store a few times and although the food was decent the staff seemed as if they ate paste in their spare time while licking the windows on their short bus bound for their special school where everyone must wear a helmet and padded gloves.

We walked in and noticed right off that the line was pretty long, but we didn’t care because we were going to eat Quiznos damn it, even if it killed us. Well, it almost did kill us since it only took the ONE person who was working in this store only about 498 years before it was our turn to order. Okay, it wasn’t actually 498 years because I can’t bend the forces of quantum mechanics to my will, but it was at least 45 minutes. Why didn't I just leave? Because I am a goddamn idiot.

Now, lets get back to the main reason it was taking SO long. There was ONE employee manning the ENTIRE store. There weren’t people in the back getting high on paint fumes and playing Monopoly, this poor bastard was all alone. Other customers began getting pissed and were asking when he was going to get some help and his reply was 4pm. That means he had to man the restaurant from open, during lunch rush hour, until 4pm all by his lonesome. Does that make one goddamn bit of sense to you? Do you like Dan Conner?

You may be asking yourself, how did this window licker manage to run the entire store? Well, let me break down his routine for you. First, he would take the persons order and make their sandwich, throw it in the oven, and then take the next order in that person’s party. He did this until their entire order was either going through or had been through the oven. With as much crap as he was shoveling into that oven I was surprised it didn’t start aborting sandwiches with force out the other side because the people’s subs who went in first had to wait at least 10 minutes before the rest of the order was finished and on its way through the oven of doom.

Next he would make his way around the gates of hell and appear on the other side to put the fresh lettuce, tomatoes, and other “fixins” on their slab of luke-warm meat. I can’t imagine something that was toasted and then sitting in the air conditioning would be very warm after 10 minutes, but what do I know. After that he would work through the next sandwich and the next until he had completed that order.

Then he would tear off his rubber gloves, sort of creepy like Doctor Giggles, and ring the order through the cash register. I would say for one party to go through this entire scenario was around 17 minutes or so.

We waited the entire time and watched this procedure over and over again. It was great making fun of the people who were getting in line behind us and just coming in the door because they had no clue they were more likely to receive a colostomy bag in the next 45 minutes than actually get to place their order. Some stayed, but most left after just one party went through the line and they saw the jackassery that was taking place.

Well, after 45 minutes it was our turn to place our order. It was like Christ himself parted the clouds wearing a Fonzie costume and gave me the thumbs up. Our order was pretty simple: We were going to get one order of the Country Chicken soup in a bread bowl and one Cobb salad. See, nothing fancy or over-the-top. Just a bowl of freaking soup and a damn salad.

Now I would like to stop here for a minute and ask you, what is in a salad? Well, lets take a look at this rocket science and find out:

Chicken breast, bacon, lettuce, hard-boiled eggs, bleu cheese crumbles, tomatoes, red onion, Ranch Dressing

Got that? Very basic items seem to comprise a salad. Now I know you are jabbing yourself in the eye with a number 2 pencil and screaming, “Well duh dipshit, what did you think was going to be in a salad? A stash of plutonium stolen from the Lybian’s to power your time machine?”. No, I pretty much knew what went in a salad, but I wanted to brief you for the part coming up next. This part is classic. Much like Mozart, Chopin, Hitler, and Beethoven this one will be going down in history.

So I place the first part of my order by launching my attack with the Cobb salad. You know what this kid says to me? Sorry, but we are all out of salads. Yeah, you heard me correctly; they were ALL out of salads. Wow, I am amazed and don’t really know what to say. First I am pissed because I had to stand in line for 45 minutes for a retarded soup and salad and now you are telling me that you are out of salads, yet you haven’t placed anything on your menu informing me of this, nor have you made any announcements? I understand he isn’t going to break out a megaphone and strobe lights to inform me they are out of a certain item, but they could take 3 seconds to scribble it in San Scrit on a piece of paper and tape it to the menu.

Then I start to think about it a little more and I glance down and there in front of me are all the ingredients I need to make a salad. Did you forget what they were? Here they are again:

Chicken breast, bacon, lettuce, hard-boiled eggs, bleu cheese crumbles, tomatoes, red onion, Ranch Dressing

Yeah, it seems that not only do you put these items on sandwiches to add variety and flavor to them, but when combined without the bread and meat they tend to make a salad.

By this point, after my long ass wait, I just decide to say “screw it”, laughed at him, and walked out. We will never be back to that Quiznos again or possibly any Quiznos since it seems a great majority of them are ran by complete tards.

Now, before I sign-off and let you go about your regular work day of tossing pieces of thinly sliced deli meat against your walls and watching it stick, I have one other question for you: Does Quiznos fight vampires on the side? You may think to yourself, this guy is a complete whack job -- and though you’d be right-- I have had this theory for a while now. Let me walk you through it.

Quiznos, while a great place to eat, seems to close really early. I have noticed they close much earlier than other restaurants around them in the same complex. This isn’t just one single odd Quiznos either; I am talking about every Quiznos I have come into contact with from Arizona to Ohio.

My theory is your staff has to close early because they fight the living dead. I know when the sun starts going down those diligent window lickers at Quiznos are cleaning their ovens and washing their baking racks because they fight hordes of blood drinkers and hate to clean the oven and stake a nosferatu through the heart at the same time. Is this true? Is Darlene the semi-literate mongoloid behind the counter really Blade the Vampire Slayer at night? This is something I ask myself almost on every visit.

Why do you close when the sun starts to go down? Are you afraid of the dark? Are you afraid of the sinister wicked little midget clowns that crawl out of storm drains when dusk drenches the landscape? Why can’t I order a salad or toasted sub and have it be night? Will this make the Universe implode upon the mass of itself or are you bastards just too cheap to pay your workers for a few extra hours of store time?

XOXO,

LaVarious

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Well, there you have it. Yet another angry letter sent out to corporate America, not that anyone is listening. As usual I will post any response I get on here, but I wouldn't hold my breath. I have never gotten an actual reply out of any of my letters, but I am sure they are passed around in the corporate offices for everyone to get a laugh at. Does it accomplish anything? Other than relieving some stress for me and giving you a few laughs I doubt it, but they sure are fun.

 

***BONUS CRAP***

Watch a jackass get pwned on a treadmill tied behind a car. (1mb)

 


 

-LaVarious
10 -08-06

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