I have gone impolite these days. Just like some say that impossible can be read as I M Possible, I am wondering that if impolite can be read as I M Polite. Actually that was what I was shouting in front of the mirror in the bath room when my reflection shouted back, “impolite” at me and asked me to shut up. Now, if you believe this story to be true, then you are the exact kind of people I love to be reading my blog. Those who will believe anything and everything I say. And trust me , I will behave absolutely the same when I get to your blog as well.
So the other day, I went to a subway outlet. Now if you do not know what a subway outlet is , go and thank whatever God you pray to for your “ignorance”. And to add to that, you shall go to the top right corner of your browser and press that close button. Because I might just describe “Subway” in this post. It will lose me a few readers (if any) , but the greater good, you know and all that . Subway is a place where the idea of making a cool burger is to put in stuff Italian people do not like to eat into ice cold bread loaves. It is a place where you always stand confused on the counter where they ask you to choose between 5 different types of breads , scores of different ingredients and many different sauces and you just cannot decide which combination is likely to be the least worst of all. But this time, well ….
“ Which bread Sir?”
“ Honey Oat please.”
“Sorry Sir, that is not available.”
“Then I will have umm… Italian Herb & Cheese.”
“ Actually even that is not available Sir. Only Parmesan Oregano is available.”
I was stumped.
“Then why did you ask?”
“Sir, because I am asked to ask.”
I wonder whether I have gone impolite or there is something in the whole Subway atmosphere itself.