So, this is my life.

And I want you to know that I am both happy and sad and I'm still trying to figure out how that could be.

Sunday, February 7, 2010

humanitarian mission

i've been thinking a lot lately about how i can best use my sabbatical (yes, that's how i've decided to spin this unemployment. when life gives you lemonade...) not only to be a productive citizen, but also to make the world a better place. dream big or go home, that's what i always say.

one unemployed friend of mine is volunteering for a political campaign. another is reading to local poor children at the Philadelphia Free Library. i have some pretty awesome friends. talented friends. passionate friends. creative friends. but somehow, i share none of their interests.

so what can I do to make a difference?

after much thought and countless $5 footlongs (i LOVE Subway) over the past weeks, i had an epiphany.

i'll admit that my great humanitarian mission began somewhat selfishly. i asked myself, "M-Unit, what is one of your biggest pet peeves? what is the one senseless wrong in our society that you think simply must be righted?"

is it hunger? no, everyone wants to be thin. is it abortion? no, i love abortion. is it societal apathy? meh. who cares?

"that's it," i answered myself. "the Subway smell."

the Subway smell is that aroma that you find welcoming and pleasant while you're inside the restaurant, but which turns out to be a heinous stalker hours later. the decision to walk into a Subway sandwich shop ultimately affects you for hours -- DAYS, even, depending on your laundry situation. after a mere 3 minutes of exposure, that bready smell simply will not leave your body or the threads of your clothing. many times i've thought to myself, "something must be done about this."

before you label me as selfish or superficial, know that my new mission is to help not myself and other Subway customers, but the true victims in this epidemic: the Subway employees.

the sandwich artisans, if you will. they spend hours every day toiling at the front lines of sandwich delivery, and how are they repaid? hours, days, weeks, YEARS of smelling like that delicious honey oat bread. no matter how many showers, no matter how fragrant their choice of laundry detergent (btw, i'm so into my new Tide with lavender, i can't even tell you), they must be haunted by the Subway smell to no end.

so now i am on a mission. i shall solve one of life's greatest mysteries ("why does that smell stick to me, and why can't Subway do something about it?") ever to plague mankind (well, it plagues THIS man. kinda).

i'm open to suggestions, tips, sponsors (ahem. FEBREZE!) to help me along the way. i am overwhelmed yet courageous. i'm out to change the world.

i have but one question: will you join me?


Jennifer said...

Oh. My. God.

You don't even know. I was a sandwich artist for nearly two years. and I could NEVER get that smell out of my bras. Eventually, I just threw them away and started fresh.

Now, every time I'm even driving by a subway I can smell it and I vomit in my mouth a little.

Anonymous said...

If someone could make bras that smell like Subway, what sould that do for you?

ASH said...

Do ME a favor. You should audition to be Simon Cowell's replacement on American Idol. You already own that v-neck sweater.

AND, you're an American. (God, those fucking brits think they still have colonies).

AND, once you've established yourself, you can put MOI through the competition.

This is how you can change the world.

Dugaldo said...

What do I have to do?

carteemily said...

i feel like i've been thrown under a hypnotizing spell when i walk by subway. for a fourth of a block, all other thoughts die and i'm in a trance because of that honey bread smell. then, thankfully, that circular thing that shoots out steam like a GUYZER slaps me back into reality.