Let me tell you something I never expected:
My entire life—my family, my career, my kids, everything—started inside one very ordinary-looking sandwich shop on Main Street. According to TODAY, meeting your spouse at work is more common than you’d think.
That’s not poetic exaggeration. It’s the literal truth. This is the kaysville subway love story I somehow ended up living inside, like the world’s strangest Hallmark movie written by someone who sneaks too many cookies from our cookie display and denies it every time.
And it all started in 1994 – the beginning of my kaysville subway love story, when I was a 15-year-old kid desperate to score my own free sandwich.
The Beginning of the Kaysville Subway Love Story
Back in 1990, when Subway first came to Kaysville, it felt like Beyoncé had moved into town. For a national brand to open here? Huge deal. And even bigger?
The owner, Guy Johnson, lived in my neighborhood.
This man was a legend in our kaysville subway love story. He hired every kid on our block. We talked about him the same way our parents talked about Ronald Reagan—hushed tones, big respect, and the belief that he alone could fix our minimum-wage futures.
My older brother got hired around ’92. He’d come home with a free employee sandwich every night, unwrap it slowly, and take bites so dramatic you’d think he was doing dinner theater. I was so jealous I could’ve eaten the sub wrapper and given a Yelp review.
So when I turned 15, I marched up to Guy and said, “Please hire me. I will build sandwiches like my life depends on it.”
And luckily… he said yes.
May 1994. My Subway adventure officially began.
Teenagers, Bands, And the Beastly Boys
Working at Kaysville Subway was basically the social hub of my teenage universe.
I met some of my best friends.
I started my first band with a co-worker.
I got my best friend (and later best man) hired so we could keep being idiots on the clock.
People called us The Beastly Boys because we were fun, loud, and… not exactly subtle. Picture two caffeinated golden retrievers running a sandwich line. That was us. You never knew if your sandwich was coming with a smile, a joke, or a freestyle harmony. Sometimes all three.
A Legacy I Didn’t See Coming
Years later, I named one of my bands Old Man Johnson after Guy himself.
I thought he was ancient.
He was in his late 30s.
By the time I bought the store, I was older than he was when I called him “old.”
If Karma had a Yelp page, I’d leave a 5-star review.
But the real twist in this kaysville subway love story didn’t show up until one very normal afternoon…
The Moment Everything Changed
I walked back into the store after a two-week family trip. The older woman on staff basically sprinted to me like she had urgent, national-security-level intel.
“There’s a new girl working here,” she whispered with a grin.
“And you’re gonna like her.”
I rolled my eyes.
Then I saw her.
She was up front making a sandwich—pretty sure it was a BMT—and she was the most beautiful person I had ever seen. I mean heart stops, world slows down, angels start singing even though we were definitely indoors beautiful.
Game over. I was done.
And because I was 17, my brain handled this powerful romantic awakening by turning me into [even more of] a complete idiot. I flirted like a malfunctioning robot. I tried to impress her by being louder, funnier, and significantly dumber. Classic teen boy survival strategy.
I annoyed her so much I was pretty sure HR (who didn’t exist) should’ve written me up. But that didn’t stop me from falling harder every day.
After six months of being a lovable menace, I finally asked her out.
Miraculously—miraculously—she said yes.
We dated through college, military life, and the chaos of early adulthood. And somehow, the place where we met—this little sandwich shop—became ground zero for the rest of our lives.
The Family That Grew From One Little Shop
Fast-forward a couple decades:
- We’ve got three incredible daughters
- Two of them have worked behind the same counter where we met
- And we now own the very store where the whole thing began
Talk about full circle.
Talk about emotional damage for whoever has to buy this building after me.
This place isn’t just a store. It’s a time capsule holding every major chapter of my life. My first job. My closest friends. My band days. My wife. My kids. My livelihood. Everything.
Sometimes I stand behind that same counter and think:
“I didn’t meet my wife on a dating app.
I met her between a bread oven and a sneeze guard.”
And every time I drive past this building, I don’t just see Subway.
I see my whole life.
Rick’s Rant
Since we’ve gotten all sentimental and soft, allow me to restore balance with a rant about people who treat drive-thru lanes like personal meditation chambers.
Why? Why do we do this?
If you’re going to stop human progress, at least pretend you’re doing something heroic—like catching a runaway shopping cart or guiding a confused goose back to nature.
But no.
Every time I go to pull around someone, they’re staring at their phone like they’re trying to crack a safe.
Move up two feet.
Do it for love.
Do it for sandwiches.
Do it so I don’t spiral into madness in front of my children.
Thanks for coming to my TED Talk.
Read more about my sandwich philosophy in I Make Subs Better Than Anyone Else.
For those watching their health, check out Are Sandwiches Healthy? An Honest Take.
Stop by our Kaysville location to experience the story firsthand.
Pro Tip: Looking to maximize your Subway value? Check out our guide to the Sub Club loyalty program and see how to get free footlongs.