The day Joel bought a $10 chicken salad sandwich

Today will be the day infamously known as when I bought a $10 chicken salad sandwich.

So I’m working in NYC, and a number of us have a 1pm meeting.  We decide to go downstairs to the cafeteria to grab a bite before our meeting.  One person makes a suggestion that we try this place called Wichcraft nearby, as they have “excellent” sandwiches. I say, whatever, okay, why should I be the one against checking out a place that has “excellent” sandwiches.

So we head over to Wichcraft, and look at the menu.  It’s your usual sandwich place.  I’m trying to eat healthy, and I see a decent chicken salad sandwich.  The first thoughts in my head are:

1. The ingredients are “walnuts, roasted tomatoes, pickled red onions & frisée on multigrain bread.”  What heck is “frisée”?
   
2. The sandwich costs $9.50.

I ask the woman at the counter what “frisée” is, and she tells me it’s lettuce.  I’m looking at her incredulously, and ask the obvious question, “Uh, why don’t you just say lettuce?”  She looks at me like I’m an uncultured dolt. Obviously, why would anyone refer to plain old lettuce as “lettuce” when you can class it up with name “frisée”. Later, I found out that frisee is supposed to be an endive with a finer cut to the leaves, but I bet you most places are just giving you lettuce.

Anyway, I’m the first to order.  I have doubts about a $10 sandwich, but I’m in NYC with NYC prices (I spent $11 yesterday on pasta and a bottle of soda somewhere else.)  Most importantly, my coworkers are around and I don’t want to appear cheap.  So I buy a regular size chicken salad sandwich with fancy lettuce for $10, no chips or drink.

Meanwhile, everyone else has changed their mind, and decided to eat in the company cafeteria with cheaper, er, more reasonable prices.  And I’m stuck holding an “excellent” sandwich.

BTW, it was not good at all, and certainly not worth $10. Tomorrow, I’m sticking to my caviar and champagne lunches.

What an overpriced $10 chicken salad sandwich looks like.