Yep. You remove the annoying little plastic clasp, fully expecting to be able to reach in and grab a couple of pieces of bread with which to begin the assembly of your perfect sandwich.
But, lo and behold, your sandwich plans are thwarted because you CANNOT simply grasp and remove the slices of bread. Nooooooooooooooooooo.
You have facing before you one of mankind's most evil and diabolical contrivances - the hermetically sealed shrink-wrapped inner liner!
It was obviously created by the same genius who came up with the packaging for CDs and is just as nefarious.
As your stomach rumbles and you feel your blood pressure rising, you attempt to carefully open the liner, with the thought in mind that you'll be able to do so with a minimum effort, then enabling you to close the liner and retain optimum bread freshness for the maximum period of time.
Does this happen? NOooooooooooooooooooooooooo.
Eventually, with the veins on your head throbbling and your hands shaking, you are forced to admit defeat. You reach into the drawer and grab a sharp knife. Stabbing at the offending liner, you finally get it open - inevitably shredding at least one piece of bread and possibly its neighbor as well. (We won't even go into the possibility of you missing the bread entirely and, instead, skewering your own finger like a Thanksgiving turkey.)
By this time, your nerves are shattered, your stomach is churning, your palms are clammy and sweating.
But - damnit! - you're gonna make that sandwich. No mere loaf of bread is going to keep you from your original goal.
So, after successfully (yeah, right) defeating the liner from hell, you reach into the refrigerator to get your favorite package of lunch meat.
Now do you really want to hear about my problems with how most lunch meat is packaged???
