It's a relatively calm afternoon at Jimmy John's Gourmet Sandwich Shop-a popular restaurant on Ninth Street-and work is proceeding as usual.
The smooth sounds of a classic soul ballad blast over the speaker system, creating a casual ambiance befitting of a sandwich shop.
Bright-eyed Caitlin Burkill waits calmly at the cash register for customers, while the seemingly mild-mannered Jamie Douglas busies himself behind the counter, cutting bread and pulling meats.
Further behind Burkill, Douglas and a few other workers sits Michael Farabee-a laid-back seven-year Jimmy John's veteran, who said he could not have chosen a better way to bring home the bacon.
Some choose law, some medicine, some business. Others, however, take the road less traveled.
For Farabee, like countless others, that road led to becoming a delivery driver.
"The best thing about it is the freedom," he said. "You're not stuck in a 10-by-10 space, an office or a cubicle. It's very systematic-almost like a competition to see if I can do 15 deliveries or map the quickest route."
Farabee, who is probably best known for greeting female patrons by bowing and saying "saleh"-the Chaldean word for "peace"-said his job definitely has its quirks.
"The beauty of it is if you take it seriously you can make more money than the people who sit in a cubicle," he said, adding that he once made $800 in a six-hour shift.
"I got a new car," he says after climbing inside his burgundy sedan, which was marred by a dented front corner caused by a deer accident. "I clipped her front legs. I was real upset about it, too. I got a $500 deductible-I can fix it, but it's still $500 I'd have to make up for."
Farabee picks up his cell phone mid-sentence.
"Jimmy John's" is all he says to communicate that his customer needs to come outside. Farabee, dressed in sweats, saunters over to a North Carolina School of Science and Math student and returns to the car a few moments later.
"One of the most annoying things is that people don't realize we work for tips," he says. "People assume the delivery charge covers our tip, but it doesn't."
Not being tipped, however, is not the worst thing that has ever happened to Farabee on the job.
As part of a prank at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill a few years ago, Farabee said one fraternity ordered $60 worth of food, which two of its members tried to steal.
"While I was paying attention to one guy, another tried to snatch the food. I popped him in the leg with a BB gun," Farabee recounted.
"That was the worst experience because I didn't like having to do that."
"It's the helplessness," he continued. "This is how I make money and feed my kids. That's what most people don't understand. Any mistakes like that, our bosses hold us accountable."
Back in the shop, business is proceeding as usual. Burkill sits leisurely at one of the tables, sipping iced tea and awaiting customers.
Douglas stands near the food counter as Antonio Gould, the manager on duty, lounges at another table completely enthralled in his Sony PSP video game. The customers don't seem to mind.
The in-house phone rings and Farabee quickly walks over, eager for more business. On the phone, he is as professional as they come. Once finished, however, Farabee resumes his cool demeanor.
"People tend to blame us about missing food-like we opened it up and ate it," he said. "[Duke students] aren't really overly nice or rude-it's a business transaction."
Sometimes business and pleasure intertwine.
Once, while delivering an order to two female students at UNC, who were wearing little more than bedclothes, business and pleasure did just that.
"They were drinking and partying," he said, smiling. "They invited me in, things got a little freaky-that's the delivery man's fantasy."
Farabee added that other "tips" offered to drivers have included six-packs of beer, bong or blunt hits, beer bongs at parties, condoms and shots of liquor.
"Sometimes we get money plus the offers," he explained.
At this point, all of the employees, save two, are crowded around the table at which Farabee is sitting, listening intently to each word uttered, many nodding to affirm common experiences.
"I'll whoop your ass," Douglas said, putting an end to the story time. "Go make some lunch," Farabee retorted.
An attractive blond then walks in and both Farabee and Douglas jump to the cash register to take the woman's order.
"You have to make the sandwiches," Farabee tells Douglas, relegating him to the meat counter.
Gould, who is still focused on his PSP game, just shakes his head and chuckles.
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