Waiter, I'd Like Your Most Prestigious Sandwich

Excuse me, waiter. Garçon. Hello? My God this service is profoundly unmoving. Oh how I miss Gordon Ramsey at the London!

Yes, finally some assistance. I am absolutely famished and need your recommendation monsieur. I'm searching for something that will flatter my taste buds while simultaneously sating my considerable hunger. I'm seeking a culinary delight that is masterfully constructed, not just a banal piece of meat haphazardly stacked in between two forgettable pieces of bread. In other words, camarero, I'd like your most prestigious sandwich.

I desire a meal that bespeaks my considerable urbanity, intelligence and style. I want people to watch me eat this marvelous combination of carbohydrates and protein and think to themselves, "Wow! Now that is a man. His food puts mine to shame. If only I had a fraction of his grace and ordering prowess my wife wouldn't have left me to become a lesbian."

See, I worked this summer at a law firm, no a veritable institution, called Cravath, Swaine & Moore. You can just call it Cravath, or that amazing New York firm that only accepts the best and brightest from top, national law schools. According to the venerable Vault ranking system, my employer was deemed the country's second most prestigious firm, just behind a considerably over-hyped, niche outfit also based in New York City. As a Cravath associate, therefore, I need, nay deserve, only the most awe-inspiring sandwich your chefs can prepare.

To be honest, taste is secondary to presentation and reputation. Sure a substantively delicious meal is nice but let's be frank. Primarily, I require food that looks good, that virtually screams out: "I am the most august nourishment obtainable." Whether such is the truth is irrelevant. As long as others believe my meal to be the best then it is the best.

I don't even care if later the meal causes me considerable indigestion. Or even permanent intestinal damage. My actual enjoyment of the consumption is far secondary to the perceived prestigiousness of the chef's concoction. Sure, other sandwiches may be more "fun" or "rewarding" to eat but in the grand scheme of things such considerations are meaningless. A pair of Nikes may be more comfortable than an expensive set of Italian dress shoes but you don't see me wearing the former to work. I'll leave that type of nonsense to associates who work at casual Friday-loving, lower ranked firms.

So waiter I have laid out for your my desires, detailed the boundaries within which I'd like your cooks to work. Please bring me what I request and do so with alacrity.

And yes I'd like it toasted.