“Seriously?” I asked, disappointedly.
The Chicken Bacon Dijon sandwich was the primary reason I even went to Panera that day. No other sandwich was about to satisfy my craving.
“Let me go check,” my cashier said as she walked away. My eyes frantically scanned the menu on the wall. Alas, my beloved sandwich was indeed gone.
My (new favorite) cashier returned with a manager, who informed me that they would be happy to make my Chicken Bacon Dijon sandwich for me any time I order it (as long as I don’t mind waiting a few extra minutes).
…and Serena lived happily ever after.