The Pettiest Revenge

About a month ago, I was the victim of a crime.

A sandwich crime.

Allow me to start at the beginning. About a month ago, I was on a roadtrip. We stopped at Subway for lunch. I ordered a kid’s meal, as one does. A kid’s meal is supposed to include a 5-inch sandwich, a cookie or bag of chips, and a small drink. This was the sandwich I got:

The sandwich in question.

You’re seeing that right. Two disappointing inches of stale whole wheat bread with more banana pepper than lettuce.

Needless to say, I was upset. I was on a road trip and I hadn’t eaten in hours. And listen, I know I’m partially in the wrong here. I know I’m a fully adult woman who probably shouldn’t be ordering off the kid’s menu!

But still.

So I decided to get my revenge. I went back inside the small subway and used their small, single stall bathroom. After I washed my hands, I locked the door from the inside, close the door, and left.

Am I proud of what I did? Not really.

But did they deserve it?




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