It's Crazy in Here

Recently, I was in the Deep South, and one of the things about the Deep South is that there are Publix grocery stores. And in said Publix stores, you can buy Publix subs. These were made famous in my friend group by a friend from Florida who loves Publix subs and hates seagulls because seagulls will steal said subs.

So I was in a Publix with my mom, and she began a meticulous investigation of the produce section, when I saw the deli counter complete with the sub menu. And I thought to myself, When in Rome... and told my mom I was going to get a sub.

And since I was over there, I thought, I'll get my husband one too. So I rolled up to the counter and saw the two workers, who I quickly learned were named Kelvin and Dee, heads bent over two subs and an order ticket. No one was in line ahead of me.

Both Kelvin and Dee were probably in their fifties, clad in ridiculous-looking but obviously serious hairnets, and they were in a even more serious conversation about the two subs.

"Wait, which one needs the gouda?" Kelvin said, his southern accent charming and disarming.

"This one, no that one," Dee answered, with an equally lulling accent.

"Dangnabbit. I can't figure which of these is which," Kelvin said.

A man and his three kids got in line behind me. I waited patiently. Finally, Kelvin broke loose of the two flummoxing subs and greeted me warmly.

"What can I get you, miss?" he asked. "The chicken tender sub comes with a pound of chicken. It's our most famous."

This seemed like a thing my husband would like, so I asked for one of those, and a cordon bleu sandwich, which said it came with ham, bacon, and cheese.

Kelvin nodded seriously at my order.

"Well you just tell me what you want on all of these," he said. "It's slammed in here today, but I'll let you make them like you want them."

I clocked the area around me and saw, other than me and the man behind me, we were the only people at the entire counter.

Kelvin started to make the chicken sub, but Dee, still working on the two subs in front of mine, called Kelvin back to her for a hushed conversation about lettuce. The man behind me said, "Let's go kids, by the time they make these sandwiches they'll be cold." And the four of them peeled out of line.

Kelvin came back to me. He started to put the chicken tender sub together.

"You want it toasted?"

"That would be great."

He nodded seriously and took a deep breath. "We're short staffed." He pushed his hair net up his almost bald head. "There is a lot going on, but we can get this toasted."

I nodded. Dee still hadn't bagged the two other subs.

"What was the other one you wanted?"

"Cordon bleu," I said.

Kelvin looked like he wasn't sure what cordon bleu was, but he would march into that breech because that was his duty. He pulled open a door under the counter and gasped.

"Dee. DEE," he said.

Dee looked at him, now putting one of the subs in its final bag.

"DO WE NOT HAVE ANY CORDON BLEU?" Kelvin asked.

I was pretty excited about this. Was the cordon bleu that I ordered going to be a melty mess of some pre-made puff pastry on Publix french bread? What did I order that it required to be pre-made before it made it on to my sandwich?

Dee looked at Kelvin with evident worry.

"Well I don't know, Kelvin. You might just have to make the cordon bleu yourself."

Kelvin gasped again, then looked at me. "I'm sorry ma'am. I have to go into the back."

At this point my mom had left the produce section and was at the meat counter, which was apparently also Kelvin's duty. Kelvin, fleeing into the back to get whatever magical thing I'd ordered saw my mom and yelled, "I'LL BE WITH YOU SOON, MA'AM, BUT WE ARE VERY BUSY."

Again, it was only my mom and I at the deli counter. But my mom was unfazed by Kelvin's agitation.

When Kelvin came back into sight, he clutched a plastic wrapped ham to his chest. He moved like he was Nike, about to deliver his final message before expiring. He made it to the counter. Dee was still trying to bag the last of the two original subs.

"We just... We get so many phone orders," Kelvin told me, trying to unwrap the ham. "Those subs before you, there are five more in that order. FIVE. It's almost all we do now. Phone orders."

Dee finished putting the sub in a bag but did not move to start on the other five.

"I appreciate you helping me," I said.

"It's good to get live orders. What kind of cheese do you want?"

I pointed at one and asked what kind it was. Kelvin said he didn't know. Dee came over and looked at the cheese and shook her head sadly.

"It's... spicy gouda, maybe. Oh here, just try it." He trust a piece at me. I ate it and selected it.

"Do you need this one toasted too?" he asked.

"Sure."

Once both subs were toasted, my mom was still standing at the counter and Dee had not started on the other five subs. Kelvin asked what I wanted on the subs. I selected a variety of veggies and then realized, my sub had no bacon on it.

"Doesn't the cordon bleu come with bacon?" I asked.

"Oh, I don't know," Kelvin said, attempting to glance at the menu behind him but giving up for efficiency's sake. "It's whatever you want. But I'll put bacon on it."

He grabbed a fist full of cold, limp bacon and stuffed it into the already toasted sub. It then dawned on me, cordon bleu was simply ham, cheese and bacon. There was no pre-made pastry of delight. It was just ham, un-identifiable cheese, and apparently, cold bacon.

Dee moved to the far end of the counter, where presumably she could start making another sandwich, but she did not. She just stood there. Kelvin pulled out a bag and popped both sandwiches in the same bag. He moved to the barcode printer then looked at me urgently.

"Wait. Didn't you order two sandwiches?" he asked.

"I did. You put them both in that bag." I pointed at the bag he held.

He looked at the bag. Then at me. Then at Dee. For a moment no one said anything, then he let out a high pitched giggle.

"Dee. DEE. I put both sandwiches in the same bag! I thought I was just putting two halves in there, but it was TWO sandwiches."

Dee looked at Kelvin out of the corner of her eye and shook her head. She said, her southern accent strong, "Ohhh, Kelvin."

Kelvin continued to laugh like there was no oxygen in the room while he attempted to unpack the sandwhiches from the single bag.

"I can't believe I did that," he said, actually wiping under his eyes. "It is crazy today."

Kelvin finally got the two sandwiches out of the bag. He put one in each hand and considered them before nodding at his left hand and saying, That feels like a pound of chicken tenders, and then got bar codes on them.

Fifteen minutes after I asked for the sandwiches, I walked away with two. My mom was still at the meat counter.

"That was fun," I told her. "Good thing I didn't have anywhere to go."

I texted my friend, I just got some Publix subs.

Don't get the chicken tender sub. Just get the chicken tendies without the sub, she wrote back.

But it was too late. Kelvin and I had walked together into the maw of the unknown to get me those subs, and we were victorious. Sort of. I had two subs.

Some days, that's all you can ask for.