Recently I was at Panera Bread for lunch. There was a guy at the counter: hands in the pockets of his jeans, one of those beanie stocking hats pulled down tight on his head, and Chucks on his feet. He looked to be an early 20’s college dude.
Clearly he’d not been to Panera before, which to me is shocking because Panera is my satellite kitchen for when my fridge is empty. I eat there all the time. I always order one of two things: chicken noodle soup, or a ceasar salad with no caesar dressing and balsamic vinagrette on the side. I’m not really a sandwich kinda girl. I love grilled cheese, but that’s about it.
So, back to this guy, he couldn’t decide what to order, then he asked the girl at the counter “what’s good?” Okay, the girl couldn’t have been more than 20 years old, and granted, she does work at Panera, but Panera is like a McDonald’s for grown-ups. Do you go to McDonald’s and ask “what’s good?” The girl replied with a couple different sandwiches that she liked, and then asked him for his order, to which he said, “Just pick something for me … but not the tomato crispani. “
I wonder what she picked. I wonder if he liked it. And I wonder how many people order that way on a regular basis. Just pick something for me is something you’ll never hear me say. Ever.
(Cross posted @ Thoughts Outside My Head)
