Not-So-Great Steak & Potato Co.

My weekly junk food treat yesterday: a cheesesteak sandwich combo. No mayo.

A nice gentleman in line behind me was having his cheesesteak made at the same time-- in front of us, on the grill. The cheesesteak-maker asked the man if he wanted mushrooms. "No," he said. The C-M returned his handful of mushrooms to the bin.

"Mine has mushrooms," I piped up.

"Oh, you too?" he said. "Yes, I ordered the Super Cheesesteak," I replied. (That's mushrooms, onions, and green peppers, plus cheese, lettuce, and tomato, sans mayo.)

He sprinkled mushrooms on mine. Then he asked the man, "Onions?" "Yes please." Man got onions. Then he began reaching for something else . . .

"Excuse me, mine has onions too," I piped up.

He looked at me. "Wait, what did you order?"

"Super Cheesesteak."

He paused to look at the receipt. "You said no mayo," he said triumphantly.

My mouth opened-- and bless the man next to me, he responded for me, scoffing-- "Yeah, no MAYO, not no onions!"

The C-M looked at me dully. "So you want onions." "YES."

He applied onions. The man and I exchanged looks. I said, "His first day?" The man said, "That's what I'm thinking."

C-M reached for the peppers . . . yup, Man got his. Mine did not. Man championed me: "Hers gets peppers too!"

"But she said no mayo!" the C-M said again. The Man looked at me, aghast. I assured him, "This happens to me all the time. Don't worry."

I turned to the C-M. "I want EVERYTHING except mayo. I PAID for peppers, I want peppers."

My sandwich got its peppers. The man looked at me. "They're not usually this bad. They usually have a different crew."

I laughed. "It's my karma. I even blog this stuff. I'm sorry you're stuck behind me!" He laughed.

The C-M began to apply my sandwich to bread, now fully cooked. The Man said, "Where's her cheese?" C-M stared for a second and said, "Cheese too?"

We just started laughing like crazy. I got the cheese. He handed me the sandwich. Man said to me, "Did you want lettuce and tomato, too?" I shook my head. "I give up." During the ordeal, my mall buddy had already gotten her Sbarro's and was half done with her pizza.

However, the second employee informed me, "Oops. No fries. I'll put them in right now." He dumped a batch into the deep fryer. Oh whee. "How long?" I asked. "One minute," he said.

I stood there and tapped my foot. Man was also waiting for fries. I looked over my shoulder and saw my friend was sitting patiently, empty plate in front of her.

I looked at my watch. 4 minutes had passed. "Hey, you think those fries burned three minutes ago?" I called. The employee took them out of the fryer. "They're fine," he said.

However, they were Cajun fries, not the plain ones I'd ordered.

I cut my losses as usual. As I accepted the fries, I heard a woman joining us at the grill informing C-M, "Everything, except mayo on the side." I cracked up. "Good luck with that mayo thing," I told her.

Forget contentious political elections. The real disenfranchised population of the United States are we the mayo haters!