Dear Dickheads

Dear Dickheads,
I walked into a Subway yesterday and I’ve been fucking pissed ever since. Did you know that the employees there are now called “sandwich artists”? The credit needs to go to the customer, since we are the ones telling the “artists” what to do. It’s ridiculous!  These corporate assholes are shitting on the term “artist”. I’m the artist. I’m the one making the fucking sandwich. Show me your goddamn art history degree and maybe we’ll talk about how you incorporate your thorough understanding of art into sandwich making. Except for I’m still the one telling you to put more olives on my Sweet Onion Chicken Teriyaki. And why the fuck are you still working at Subway with such an esteemed education?
Sincerely, Dr. P

Dear “Dr.” P,
Unfortunately for you, the fact that you care this much about fast food says a lot about you, and doc—they ain’t good things. Did you know that a Maverik gas station attendant’s official title is “Adventure Guide?” Probably not, because who the fuck cares? It’s just a way for corporate douche bags to dress up depressing job titles like “store clerk” and “sandwich maker.” If you care this much about the artistry behind your food, don’t walk into a Subway—ever. Go to places like The Black Widow Café, where a real chef puts together a mouth-watering Cubano without you breathing “extra olives” over the sneeze guard. It doesn’t take a Ph.D. to know that if you want quality food, eat local.

xoxo, SLUG

Dear SLUG,
I work at a local bar downtown that shall not be named, due to the fact that I’d still like to be employed by them after this. Let’s just say it’s not your typical bar, though, it’s got a little extra somethin’ somethin’ aside from food and drinks … Anyway, just like any bar nearly everywhere, the bartenders are all tatted up, because well, not to stereotype bartenders, but that’s just what a lot of us are into, and one of the appeals of bartending is that, in most places, you’re free to express yourself however you please. Well, about six months ago, the new (conservative) management implemented a no-tattoo policy based on “statistics that show customers won’t return to an establishment if its employees are tattooed.” Yeah, maybe in Utah County twenty years ago, but most of our patrons are tattooed themselves! Now all of us are forced to cover up, though it’s sweltering hot behind the bar and many of us have arm and leg sleeves. I know SLUG loves body art. Help us out!
Tattoos and Booze

Dear Tattoos and Booze,
You know when, sometimes, someone sees your nice tattoo and they feel like it’s okay to grab you? “What a beautiful gypsy head!” they will say as they caress your arm. “I love that pirate ship chest piece,” they’ll scream as they attempt to pull the front of your v-neck even lower. As a tattooed human, I can’t count the number of times a stranger has awkwardly accosted me at grocery stores, bars, restaurants, gas stations or even while at work. Maybe this new “no tattoo” policy is an attempt to keep the customers and employees from spending so much time grabbing one another’s flesh behind that sweltering hot bar.

Regardless, dress codes suck and a newly implemented dress code is even worse. Plus, I have a feeling that having the bartending staff at this particular establishment wrapped up in turtlenecks and pants isn’t helping anyone’s tips, or the smell behind the bar, if it is as sweltering hot as you claim. My advice? Encourage the customers to complain about the swass (sweaty ass) smell that is served alongside their beers, and that covered tattoo policy might just disappear. Otherwise, you might want to start shopping for a flesh-colored body stocking …
xoxo, SLUG