Why Does Subway Ask So Many Questions?

Who has been to Subway before? Everyone I expect. And if you have you will know they ask a lot of questions, and it’s a production line of sandwich making and question asking.

“What bread would you like?”
“What size?”
“What meat?”
“Would you like cheese?”
“Would you like it toasting?”
“What salad would you like?”
“Do you want sauce?”
“Are you making it a meal?”

And that’s only if you’re getting one sandwich. If you’re ordering as a family, it can quickly become overwhelming. We did just that at the weekend, and one of those sandwiches was for my son — who, naturally, asks a lot of questions too.

Subway is a relatively new thing for him. I’m not exactly sure if he likes it or just thinks he should like it. But when he asked to go, I didn’t hesitate. Any time he initiates going out — and it involves food — it’s a double win. I got my coat on faster than you can say “footlong.”

I didn’t even consider the number of questions this visit might involve. I just bundled the whole family into the car. All five of us.

We got to the front of the queue. I was prepared — I knew what myself, my daughter, and my son wanted. I confidently went for it:

“Three six-inch white bread, please.”

And then it began…

Subway Worker: “What filling would you like in this one?”
Son: “Is everyone copying off me getting the same size bread?”
Son: “Are you getting the same bread as me?”
Son: “How do they know where to chop the bread to make six inches?”
Me: “Ham in that one, please.”
Son: “Is that one mine? Am I getting ham?”

Subway Worker: “What filling would you like in this one?”
Son: “Whose sandwich is this one?”
Me: “Tuna, please. This is your sister’s.”
Son: “Is she copying off me getting the same bread?”
Me: “Yes.”
Son: “Are you copying off me too Mam?”

Subway Worker: “What filling for this one?”
Son: “Is this one yours, Mam?”
Me: “Yes.”
Me: “Meatballs, please.”
Son: “I don’t want mine toasted, Mam, remember?”

Subway Worker: “Cheese?”
Son: “Are you having cheese, Mam?”
Son: “I don’t want cheese, remember.”
Me: “Just cheese on the meatball one.”

Subway Worker: “Any toasted?”
Son: “I’m not having mine toasted, am I, Mam?”
Me: “Just the meatball one, please.”
Son: “Do you like meatballs, Mam?”
Me: “Yes.”
Son: “I just like ham. I don’t want peppers remember Mam?”

I looked at my husband. We shared a knowing smile. He knew he was on his own ordering his and his daughter’s sandwiches. I couldn’t take on any more.

Subway Worker: “What salad would you like on the tuna?”
Me: “Just cucumber.”
Subway Worker: “What salad would you like on the ham?”
Son: “This one’s mine. Mam, I just want cucumber.”
Me: “Just cucumber, please.”
Son: “I don’t want anything else. No sauce. Remember?”

Subway Worker: “Salad on the meatball sandwich?”
Son: “Are you having salad, Mam?”
Me: “Yes, please — cucumber, lettuce, and red onion.”
Subway Worker: “Sauce?”
Son: “I don’t want sauce. Are you getting sauce, Mam?”
Me: “No sauce on any of them, please.”

We were nearly at the end. We could do this. I could do this.

Subway Worker: “Are you making it a meal?”
Me: “No.”
Son: “Can I get a drink?”
Me: “Yes.”
Son: “Do you want a drink? What drink do you want?”
Me: “Fanta.”

Subway Worker: “If you’re getting a drink, you may as well make it a meal.”
Me: “Okay.”
Subway Worker: “What cookies do you want?”
Son: “I don’t want a cookie. Are you getting a cookie?”
Me: “Just any.”
Son: “Is everyone getting a cookie?”
Me: “I’m not.”
Son: “Do you like cookies, Mam?”

Subway Worker: “Okay, there you go. There’s your sandwiches. I’ve added your cookies. Enjoy your meal.”

I think by this point the Subway worker just needed us gone. We waited for my husband to catch up and paid for them all. Then we sat down.

My ears were hurting. I needed to sit in the quiet. I never wanted to come to Subway again.

And as we sat down and started eating, my son asked:

“Why do they ask so many questions?”

And there it was — the ultimate question from the boy who asked all the other questions. I could only laugh. Maybe next time, we’ll just stick to a packed lunch… fewer questions required.