To paraphrase Bob Dylan, “I ain’t gonna work at Maguire’s Farm Store no more…but I’ll definitely purchase their fine sandwiches!”
Truth be told, I never have worked there and never want to work there, but my first week out of the hospital, eating became a huge job for me, and one where I wasn’t even getting paid what I was worth. All I could really seem to stomach were sandwiches—didn’t really matter what kind, just grab some wheat bread and a couple of slices of meat and cheese and I was reasonably in a good mood, or as good a mood as could be expected of me.