Welcome to Subway. My name is Janice, and I’ll be your sandwich artist today.

Don’t bother with the menu board. Look at me. I require 10 minutes of uninterrupted eye contact so I can absorb your aura and determine what kind of personalized sandwich art to create for you. It’s just not the same experience for either of us if you tell me what kind of bread you want.

I can already sense you’re a true patron of the arts, so you understand the complexities of the creative process. Some of us work with paint and canvas. Others can turn a block of granite into the human form. I create with bread, processed cheese, assorted veggies, sauces, and cold cuts.

Some days, a pickle is just a pickle. Other days, a pickle is a metaphor for the human condition and our will to survive under the oppressive rule of the patriarchy—that also adds a nice crunch to your sandwich.

I don’t know about you, but what I love most about art is how it’s open to interpretation and everyone reacts to it differently. For example, my previous creation was a pond of ranch dressing with cucumber lily pads and bread islands inhabited by humans made of grilled chicken in lettuce loincloths. The teen I made it for loved it. His mom asked to speak to the manager.

I’ve also had patrons so overcome by their emotions after experiencing my art that they walk out of the store, sometimes without their sandwich art, mumbling to themselves all kinds of things like, “Holy shit, what just happened,” “Are you kidding?” and, “You call that a sandwich?”

And that’s the dream: to have your work create a visceral reaction that gets the people talking. I’m pretty lucky because most artists’ work never sees the light of day. Meanwhile, people don’t just talk about my art, they flock to my studio and buy it every day.

That’s the power of a deconstructed meatball sub.

Customers often ask why I do what I do. Beyond my family’s constant nagging that a fine arts degree would never amount to much, I can’t really explain what drives me or where the inspiration comes from, other than art finds a way. But if I really had to say, I guess, deep down, I always felt like bread doesn’t have to be on the outside of the sandwich.

Have you ever been to one of those fancy restaurants where your entrée comes out on a massive plate decorated with a smear of asparagus purée, concentric drops of truffle-infused extra virgin olive oil, three sprigs of microgreens, and mashed potatoes shaped like a swan, and it looks more like art than food so you feel compelled to take a picture and post it on social media before you dig in? That’s what I do with cold cuts. But for a fraction of the price and a way bigger portion.

Not to brag, but this is your lucky day. My shift ends soon, and if you missed me, let’s just say Chet is content to stuff cheese, veggies, and cold cuts into the bread like a basic sandwich, wrap his work in wax paper, and call it a day. I think you deserve better.

So does the universe. That’s why you pulled into this strip mall and chose this Subway and got this sandwich artist. I swore an oath to prepare and serve works of art. So that’s exactly what you’re going to get.

Speaking of, I’ve picked up your vibe and know just what to make for you. Feel free to film the process, as you may want to relive the experience and share it with your friends.

Oh, you just want a cookie? Yeah, I can bag that up for you.