On Making Sandwiches

A gentleman enters a restaurant known for its culinary magic. He orders a sandwich, a simple request. One might think.

But our patron is no ordinary customer. To everyone's astonishment, he follows the maître d' into the kitchen.

"Allow me to instruct you on the art of sandwich making," he announces.

The chef, the inventor of many a gastronomic wonder, a master with decades of experience under his stained apron, listens patiently as the customer explains how to make a sandwich.

"Two slices of bread, well-toasted. A thick layer of butter. Precisely three ounces of ham, sliced paper-thin. Blue cheese, aged 12 months, no more, no less. Three leaves of romaine lettuce. One thick tomato slice, extra juicy."

The chef’s eyebrows rise ever so slightly. A consummate professional, he follows these instructions to the letter, assembling the sandwich with the same love he'd have offered a mille-feuille. Then reaches for a jar of signature house-made mustard. A mustard that has won awards and delighted customers for years.

"Stop right there," the customer says. "I didn't ask for mustard."

The chef withdraws his hand. Leaves the award-winning condiment on the countertop.

Serves the sandwich with the flourish it deserves.

Our gentleman takes a bite. He frowns. Disdainfully.

"This is rubbish!" he pronounces.

"That's ₹1800," the chef replies.

The moral of the story?

When a client insists on writing his own ad, let him. Then send him the bloody bill.

TL;DR: Let creative cook.