Ok it’s confession time again. My name is Harlem and sometimes I suffer from New Deliphobia…I’m sure it’s not an unreasonable fear. I can’t be the only one who has been stuck in a busy sandwich bar at lunchtime feeling like I’ve walked into the London Stock Exchange on crash Friday.
There’s so many things to worry about… Where do I order? Where do I pick up? What type of bread? What fillings? Salt? Pepper? Tobasco? Hot drink? Cold drink? Eat in? Take away? Cash? Card? Plastic bag? So many questions and all the while people are running around you like stampeding cattle in Rawhide. It’s enough to break you into a sweat.
Speaking of which, on one occasion I was so confused with the flurry of activity I walked away with what I thought was a tuna and red pepper bagel but actually turned out to be tuna with enough chilli to burn a hole to the centre of the earth!
I did however learn a valuable lesson about panic ordering and overall I think my programme of rehabilitation is making good progress.
Whilst my mind may still take an extra 10 minutes to digest the various queries being thrown at me by new deli staff, I have learned to be a little more chilled out in the middle of the madness and thus avoid similarly painful experiences.
Honestly though, that bagel… I feel hot just thinking about it.
