Quick Stop Grocery & Deli

Overpriced, mediocre (at best) sandwiches with no consistency whatsoever. Seriously, some days avocado is $ 0.90 to add to your sandwich and others they look at you like you’re crazy when you circle it and then charge you $ 0.50. It’s odd. The salad bar is okay looking, but considering how unprotected and unrefrigeratored it looks, I cannot bring myself to try.
I understand that a previous ownership régime really did make great sandwiches that didn’t skimp on anything (as their sign boasts, the best sandwiches in town), but this current ownership régime is cheap while managing to charge an arm and a leg. If you need something other than a pack of gum or newspaper, go down the hill to Pete’s or across the street to Louisa’s for your sandwich. You’ll be glad you did.

I’m currently training for a marathon and this quick stop is my life-​savior. It’s located at about mile 20 of my training route, right about when I need to refill my water bottle. I can basically just jog right in, buy a Gatorade and be back on my way in under a minute.
I’m usually pretty dehydrated and out of it when I stop in here, but from what I can tell, it seems like a pretty typical convenience store with average prices.

The Quick Stop ONLY gets four stars because I stumble in there every weekend with the worst hangover of my life and purchase nearly every single type of beverage that I think can cure me… and they never ever judge me.
What exactly does this mean? It means I hobble across the street with raccoon eyes and hair a mess and buy two orange Fantas, a giant Volvic water, a vanilla frappachino, an apple juice, several types of Vitamin Water, and a few popsicles for good measure– and no one bats an eye! In fact, the man at the counter always calls me «sweetie» and gives me a piece of bubble gum for free.
Love this place. Wouldn’t DARE to try a sandwich. The place kinds of smells funny and is falling apart. But in terms of beverages, it really hits the spot when a hangover is hitting everything else.

A refrigerated sandwich is a desperate thing, but I *was* desperate, sometimes, when I worked the evening shift in the building across the street from Willie’s. If I had failed to eat anything before I got to work, and failed to provide myself with anything to eat once I got there, and had had one too many servings of lasagna from Pete’s down by the lake, I would go into Willie’s and get a sandwich shrink-​wrapped on a styrofoam tray, and it would keep me from starving.
Then one day someone pointed out that they made fresh sandwiches, and dragged me to the counter where the pencils and the little green slips of paper with the checkboxes are. I checked a bunch of boxes, the younger guy groaned, Willie told him to shut up and make the sandwich, and he did. It was good.
And so, some weeks later, again tottering on the verge of starvation, I went in and put out my hand to pick up one of the green slips you can order a nice sandwich on.
Another hand appeared from the other side of the counter, the hand of the not-​Willie, swooping up to plonk the THIS SECTION CLOSED sign in front of my nose.
No Willie around to come to my rescue. No fresh sandwich for me.
I’m still grateful to the store for ministering to my occasional sudden, urgent need for cough medicine or lotion or tampons, but if the sandwich section is closed, put the THIS SECTION CLOSED sign up before I get there, gunfunit!