Let me rewind us to the exact moment of my pause-button epiphany. 

The diner was one of those timeless joints where the coffee flows like a river and the vinyl booths have absorbed decades of conversations, silences, birthdays, anniversaries, graduations, proposals, break-ups, and, honestly, farts — a full range of human experiences. 

As the Orator team slid into a corner booth designed for four but somehow squeezing all six of us, I couldn’t help but notice how the intimate setting naturally broke down the barriers created by our cubicle walls and departmental silos.

While Wanda, our delightful table attendant, filled our first cups of Jolly Coffy, Brandaleigh Subabillian, the morning-fresh green but energetically impassioned national news correspondent, asked a simple question that set the tone for the entire evening: “Are we having our own post-credit scene right now?”

The existential conundrum hung in the air for a moment like an invisible floating question mark before we all burst out into hearty belly laughter. I couldn’t deny it — she was right. There we were, the cellular components of our corporate organism, engaging in exactly the kind of cross-departmental, cross-functional collaboration that Camelcase Capital Studio’s Interoception 2 had beautifully depicted with its deeply resonating biological metaphors.

The parallel was striking and immediate. Just as the film's various cellular systems had to overcome their programmed functions to work together, we were transcending our desks and assignments to engage in genuine human connectio@#$SYSTEM_INTERRUPTUS$#@ <<&^%GLOBBGUMM>>

POINT/COUNTERPOINT: To Club or Not to Club?

¿¿¿¿¿¿ERROR¿¿¿¿¿¿Point: Join the Anti-Club Club

The middle slice of bread in a club sandwich makes zero sense. I love me a good club sammy, but it’s a thousand times better when that third slice of bread is removed. The sandwich itself is already pretty tall, and while I do like to talk a lot, I don’t have a particularly large mouth. So to take a bite out of a traditional club, I have to stretch my mouth open to extreme limits. I can feel the edges of my lips straining in pain with every bite.

The top slice of bread and the bottom both have clear and intended purposes. They help the diner hold the sandwich and guide it to their mouth hole. When properly toasted and lightly buttered, they also add some delicious texture and flavor. But when a third slice is added right in the middle, I’m not only confused, I’m distraught and downright angry.

The texture and flavor are more than sufficiently provided by he top and bottom slices. It’s not like the middle slice brings the texture and buttery toast flavor to another level. While I like the toast, I don’t order a club sandwich because of it. The meat is why I’m here. Bacon and ham or turkey deli meat, to be exact.

Add a couple of pieces of crisp lettuce, thinly sliced tomato, and red onion, with a thin layer of mayonnaise, and you've reached gold. Preferably, the bacon should be crispy but not burnt. While I personally prefer ham on my club, I am not opposed to a turkey club in any way whatsoever.

There have been times when the toast is slightly too crispy. Enough to cut the upper palette of your mouth. I know this happens, and I accept that… except when a third middle slice is included. At that point, all the third slice does is press the overly toasted top slice harder against the roof of my mouth, shredding it to the point where the sandwich becomes a chore, not an allure. A BLT doesn’t have a middle slice of bread, and a club is basically a BLT with deli meat added.

Also, maybe I’m in the minority on this take, but chips are a terrible side for a club. The sandwich is typically salty enough as is with the bacon and deli meat. And, as mentioned previously, the properly toasted bread provides plenty of crunch and carb-related goodness. The chips are too much, and I don’t need them. I would much rather have an extra side of dill pickles. Yes, I know that just adds to the salt, but it also adds to the vinegar that is missing from the club. Plus, technically it's a veggie, so take that!

Back to the bread of the matter, I get that the extra slice adds to the presentation and makes the sandwich large enough that when sliced into four triangular sandwiches and spread properly across a plate, it looks good as hell. But presentation only lasts a second, while the rest of the experience is what you walk away with. Please keep my third slice of bread in the future, charge me the same, and use it on another sandwich instead.

 ¿¿¿¿¿¿RORRE¿¿¿¿¿¿Counterpoint: I Want to Belong to Any Club That Would Let Me Eat It As a Member

The Club Sandwich might very well be the pinnacle manifestation of the pinnacle composition of the pinnacle flavors of the pinnacle food vehicle. By food vehicle, I mean a handheld meal that uses one ingredient to carry the others, such as sandwiches, tacos, or shawarma.

But before we dig into the club’s essential components, let’s begin with our friend’s nonsensical complaints.

Apparently, three pieces of bread are one too many? Does our friend think tres leches is one too many leches? Should the Big Mac only have one bottom bun? What about three-cheese pizza and three-cheese mac ‘n cheese? Should these just be two-cheese pizzas and two-cheese mac ‘n cheeses?

Beyond our friend’s arbitrary numerical argument, the third slice of bread plays a crucial role: structural integrity. An inherent feature of the club — indeed, its most appetizing feature — is that it’s an overstuffed and more fulfilling sandwich. That is, by definition, club sandwiches are bigger, better, and badder than the standard granny sammies our friend enjoys.

Which brings us to the next point. Since the sandwich, by definition, is big, eating it naturally requires a formidable mastication ability if you want to join the club. Of course, the explosion of flavors, mouth feel, textures, and nourishment is more than worth it.

After all, it’s called a club sandwich because only certified members can handle its heft, bulk, and full effect.

So why should our friend, who can’t even join the club, dictate how many slices of bread are in our members-only sandwich? 

You see, dear reader, the ideal sandwich our friend describes is nothing more than an everyday, plain-Jane, garden-variety, run-of-the-Jannes-Mills, kitchen-counter sandwich. Our friend’s point hinges purely on personal preferences, not any cause-worthy manifesto. Our friend is attempting to totally redefine the club sandwich on his own terms and with his own tastebuds. Our friend is trying to deny you, the dear reader, your inalienable right to luxuriate upon your sandwich artistry by building some more, something better than some rubblebunker lunchbucket sandwich.

If we, as a society, allow others to dictate the number of bread slices we can use in sandwiches, what’s next? No more cheese on pizzas? No more BBQ sauce on ribs? No more cream and sugar in coffee? Where does it end, people?

However, one thing our friend and I can agree on is that chips have no role as a side for a club sandwich — and this comes from a chip aficionado. A club sandwiches require thick fries. Not quite as dense as steak fries, but definitely thicker than your standard hot dog stand fries. A side of coleslaw is also always welcome, though not required.

Speaking of chips. Why are all chip flavors either flaming hot or pickled? Or pickled flaming hot? Or, like, how can chips be both Cool Ranch and Flaming Hot? What kind of god would allow that? Whatever happened to the vast variety of cheese flavors?

Big Red Line: Pickles have no place on, in, or around a club sandwich. On this, there can be no debate.

Now, onto the House Club Rules:

1. 4 triangles of uniform flavor

2. 3 slices of lightly toasted bread

3. 2 layers of stacked ingredients 

4. 1 deliciously designed sandwich

[RECONCILIATION ATTEMPTION FAILED — PROCEEDING WITH ALT-OUTPUT PUTT-PUTT] 

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