Look guys. I just want to start by saying that no matter what it seems like from the name, Which Wich does not serve sandwiches. They serve magic, and nothing but magic.
I used to work in this pizza restaurant and now that none of us work there anymore I can tell you that my manager used to break our employee food rule and we’d trade three pizzas to Which Wich every Sunday in exchange for sandwiches. And oh, my, did we get the good end of the deal. They send over their longest sandwiches, stuff them full of meats and cheeses. They’d pack us little bags with chips and cookies in them. One day it was hotter than usual and they threw in some milk shakes for us, because they thought we might want them. They thought we might want them! We didn’t even ask! We didn’t even suggest that we thought we might one day rise so high in their favor! +1857 They never put olives on any of my sandwiches and whenever we called them, they sounded so grateful to hear from us that it was as if they were the ones who were blessed, they were the ones who were receiving a great prize.
Can we talk about how awesome they are? What about that logo of theirs? Have you seen it? It says Which Wich, but the bottom of the W, the bottom half, overlaps a loaf of bread so it’s like the v shapes are the slashes put in the bread to keep it from bursting. +8! Isn’t that imaginative? I know right? Simultaneously telling us what their name is and evoking the image of fresh bread? Honestly I don’t even care how fresh their bread is, they could get it at the day old store and I’d still eat it as long as they slathered it with hummus and honey mustard. Uggh have you had their honey mustard? Which Wich is the only place I’ll eat it now because nobody will ever be as good as them again.
And their cute little conveyor oven? I know all sandwich places have them, but it’s only cute at Which Wich. I like the idea of my sandwich getting on the conveyor belt, and it’s not sure what’s going to happen to it, but it’s just glad that it gets to be a sandwich, and it’s a little self-conscious and it hopes that I like it. It’s a little bit like being a bride on your wedding day, but nicer. It goes onto the conveyor belt and then all of a sudden it’s out of sight? What happens to it? The same things that happen to our bride friend. Its cheese melts and its crust toasts, and its eyebrows get plucked and its hair combed out so it’s really nice and shiny. The vegetables get all hot and start to juice out a bit, so all the flavors run together and when I take a bite they’ll run down my chin. It puts on a really pretty white dress and it puts something old and something new, something borrowed and something blue deep inside it, hidden to where only it knows which is which. Which is wich? Heh heh heh. The meat starts to sizzle and it says goodbye to its mom and to its dad, and then it’s out of the conveyor oven and I can see it again, and it’s the most beautiful sandwich in the world. I want to cry every time I see it, but I’m the man in this metaphor, and I can’t.
Also! The cups that their milkshakes come in! Can we please go back to the milkshakes! It’s not just that they’re amazing, it’s that the cups that they come in can totally be washed and reused at your home for all sorts of purposes! You can drink water out of those cups, you can drink orange juice, you can drink any kind of liquid you want, though I don’t recommend anything too hot just on principle because the plastic just isn’t that thick! +45 Still! Even without that structural problem, they are still awesome cups! I like any sort of cup that means I can increase my material net worth and take up more space in the cabinets than my roommates! Except my roommates also have these cups, so it’s impossible to tell who’s is who’s! That’s the problem with having roommates! We have the same issue when it comes to red UH cups that we stole from the dormitories before moving into real apartments! Moving away from each other is going to be a mess! I can’t stop ending sentences in exclamation points, because I love Which Wich so much!
Finally. Did you know that every single sandwich you would ever want to get at Which Wich, can also be made into a salad? Oh my God. I don’t even know what to add on to that, except that this is my greatest fantasy in life, for someone else to constantly be at my beck and call to make salads for me whenever I want them. +98 Which Wich, you know me so well. You understand my childhood pain of having to always make the salad for everyone else, and to never have the salad made for me. You get me, like nobody else ever has. I promise to love and cherish you, as long as we both shall live.