As a tourist, I assumed from the street that this establishment was a deli or a bakery...some place to grab a quick snack to hold me over until dinner. I was WAY off. Apparently, this establishment specializes in "What just happened?" moments.
For starters, the first thing I noticed after walking through the doors was that it was more of a kitchen supply store - similar to Le Gourmet Chef - than a deli. Out of the corner of my eye, however, I did notice that there was a food counter in the back of the space. I asked the boy at the counter if the sandwiches were any good. The young boy at the counter, with his left arm in a sling, responded (after a long pause) with, "Eh...I eat one every day."
I wouldn't say his greatest strength is sales...and it's clearly not skateboarding either...hence the sling.
I made my way over to the food area in the back and looked at the hanging special menu. The #1 caught my eye - chicken, pesto, mozzarella & tomato panini. Yes, please! I ask the foreign man in the white apron doing absolutely nothing where I place my order. He pointed to the other side of the counter...so I make my way over there.
Once over "there", I asked again. "Where do I place my order?"
The main lady snapped back with, "Did you fill out a form?" Did I fill out a form? What in the world?
Apparently, they don't speak to customers at this establishment. Not exactly the sales model I'd go with, especially in a touristy town.
The form asked what you wanted on the sandwich, your name and whether you want a half sandwich or a whole.
I filled out the appropriate form and asked where to drop off said form. I'm not a complete idiot but there is no signage anywhere and, clearly, no one is interested in helping me. The woman just pointed to the top of the counter and I did as she requested.
I successfully placed my order. Finally.
While I was trying to figure out how to order a sandwich a woman walked in...straight from a J Crew catalog...and verbally ordered a #1 panini. She had great taste of sandwiches and clothes. After a short while, the main lady asked the woman if she had filled out a form. Uh oh!
She said, "No, I thought you only needed to fill one out if it was a special order." After my fiasco with the form, I just knew that the next sandwich up was mine and that J Crew would be sent to Nantucket Gourmet jail.
A paper bag made it's way to the top of the counter and I extended my hand to it. "No, you weren't the first #1. You were the second #1."
I turned to my friend and gave her the "Am I crazy?" look. As it turns out, I'm not crazy. Mrs. J Crew, without officially ordering her sandwich, walked out with my sandwich (probably with my name on it) and I am left next to packets of herbs and spices rolling my eyes.
I took the second #1 sandwich and headed towards the boy in the sling to be cashed out. I placed...okay, let's be honest...threw my sandwich down on the counter and muttered something like, "This place is a shit show." Another friend of mine says, "She doesn't go to restaurants often" to which I respond with, "This is NOT a restaurant."
Sling boy responded with, "Well, maybe next time you should call ahead ten minutes to place your order."
You mean to tell me that in the center of Nantucket, your company expects people to just know how to order a freaking panini with your secret special forms and, if they don't have faith in themselves that they can fill out the forms on their own, to know enough to call ahead?
You're lucky that the sandwich tasted good. Fine...it was amazing.
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