April 23, 2013 § 7 Comments
I’m on that pursuit of happiness. And I know. Everything that shines ain’t always going to be of the gold variety. I will be fine once I get it. Yeah. I will be good.
[dub step reeeeemiixxxxx] wub wub wubbbbwubbwubbbbbb
I have had a few interesting conversations lately about happiness, as well as some important internal reflection in regards to the topic at a time when I was starting to feel unhappy. Let me try and put my thoughts in the correct order now in order to inflict the most happiness onto the brains of you, the reader. It shall feel good for both of us, on this journey to pursue happiness!
Awhile back I was talking to a person, let’s call this person “girl”, and I told girl that talking to her felt like I had little marbles of happiness stored in my brain for safekeeping that would explode magical fairy dust of happiness all into my brain parts. This could be one of several things:
- Chemicals, such as endorphins, being released into my brain
- Aneurysm, or stroke
The likely answer is probably number two, those little guys that show up when you’re “doin’ it” or eating a killer taco that tell you to be happy. I like to think of a billion endolphins swimming through your frontal lobe and all the other lobes.
But the problem with attributing all of our feelings to chemicals and processes in the body and brain is that it doesn’t produce enough endorphins because we’d much rather believe in something bigger! We’d much rather believe in magic, and love, and higher powers that are possessed in ourselves, in our souls, and there’s nothing wrong with that. I want to believe that too. Controlling our emotions is still a power higher than chemicals, and that’s just as important.
“Girl” and I don’t really talk anymore, so the happiness bubbles aren’t popping anymore. This leads to the idea that sadness is the absence of happiness, and that’s not really true either is it?
It’s a really interesting question to ask if you are happy with the person you are today. Well, I wouldn’t say that if I could choose a life that I would have chosen mine. I might go with “The Gos,” Ryan Gosling, or even Topher Grace, but I’d definitely think I would go another route. But then again, would I? I’m not unhappy with the person that I am, and I think that the fact that I have always strived to be something else has molded me into something else already; the characteristics that make up Kenneth, both positive and negative, are all a result of wanting to be something else. I’m perfectly okay with my positive attributes, and it only takes a little bit of light to fill up a lot of dark space.
But then when “girl” goes away, it feels like she takes the light with her. That’s not how it is supposed to work; never give your happiness to anyone. That is your happiness. The happy is always contained within yourself, never give it to anyone, only let other people touch it, not take it. Am I happy? Well, not constantly! But if you always remember that your happiness is a bag of gold that’s kept in your backpocket, and not gold pen that you can only borrow to sign this birthday card and then you have to give it back, then you can never be unhappy for too long.
Happiness is a motion-activated porch light that others can turn on with their presence.
Happiness is your favorite memory with your dad, or butcher. In some cases, these are the same person!
Happiness is your favorite fake memory. I visualize the Seahawks winning the Super Bowl on a regular basis. I have the fantasy on a regular basis, they don’t win the Super Bowl on a regular basis. Yet.
Happiness is the song that makes you believe that anything is possible. Like “The Promise” by When in Rome or “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun” or “I Want It That Way.”
Happiness is the movie with a happy ending, like when you find out that sometimes you actually find a guy in ten days.
But no matter what happiness means to you, always keep in mind where its always resting like a sleeping Andre the Giant (the happiest of giants): Inside of you. People, places, things, and any kind of noun you can think of that bursts glitter bombs of happy into the recesses of your brain (why do you think they call them RECESS?) are always contained within you, not feelings that others get to keep. It’s yours. If you’ve given your happiness to someone else, even if only to borrow, you’ve taken a wrong turn at Albuquerque.
Also yours: Sadness. And it’s an addiction as well, otherwise nothing would be emo!
I used to have this metaphor for my life, that’s not especially uplifting but it is true that sometimes this is how it feels:
Sometimes I feel like I’m on a rowboat in the middle of a dead calm lake without any paddles, and sandbags keep being dumped into the boat, dropping it further and further into the water. And the person dumping in the sandbags is me.
Now I don’t know how it’s physically possible to do this (where am I getting the sandbags from?) but sometimes I feel like I tend to add in sadness on purpose just to feel pity for myself. For every happy place there is a sad dungeon. (Not one of those dungeons with candy and video games, but a sad one without video games and with beets only.) And we hold onto this dungeon, and it’s ours, and you can’t have it because it’s personal – stay away from my dungeon! You don’t get my dungeon!
Why don’t we do that with happiness too?
“I’m chillin’ in my dungeon today because you took away my cotton candy fields.”
Absence of positive isn’t presence of negative. Absence of positive is an opportunity to go in either direction, all you have to do is not choose to go to the dark side but instead stay with Luke and the Ewoks. If you’re thinking about throwing another sandbag into the boat, think instead of cuddling a fuzzy little Ewok. And money can’t buy happiness, but it could possibly allow you to rent a small person and put them in an Ewok outfit and cuddle them for two hours but no kissing. And that would make you pretty happy for awhile.
Talking to “girl” could feel like glitter bombs danced in my head, but “girl” did not place them there, she only elicited an action or feeling. Those pockets are always inside of you, it’s just a matter of knowing how to make them jump instead of sandbagging yourself. Now, show me on the doll where touching makes you happy. Oh, I think I know
April 12, 2013 § 14 Comments
Let’s lay out some unwritten “rules” of dating:
1 – If you were the last person to send out a text, you are not allowed to send the next text.
1a - You may only break this rule if you “saw” or “read something” that would be of significant interest to the person that has not texted you back yet OR If it has now crossed over into the next business day OR If you have “concern” about this person’s well-being and whereabouts.
1b - You sought out that thing reminded you of that person, you’re only concerned that they haven’t responded to you, you won’t wait until the next business day because of the other two exceptions to breaking rule 1.
1c- Twitter and Facebook are an excellent reminder that the person who is not texting you back has full access to a computer or technological device such a phone, which you already knew anyway didn’t you.
2 - If you like a person, don’t let them know it* up until the very last possible moment when they are fed up and just about to give up on you. A good way to do this is to rigorously be on the other side of Rule 1: Ignoring a text message. (We all know you got that text message and that you are fully aware of Rule 1.)
*The more witholding you are of affection, the more the other party will desire it. As soon as you give it, they no longer want it.
2a - If you find the person you are dating to be beautiful, the worst thing you can do is tell them that, especially if they really are beautiful**. Why would a person want to hear a compliment like that?
**A graph displaying “Beauty” to “Tell Them About Their Beauty” looks like an X. The more they are, the less you say so. The less they are (in the classical sense) the more they appreciate it.
2ab - Find a physical characteristic on your dating partner that you know makes them self-conscious, and bring it up. As much as you want.
2ac - You’re ugly.***
***Look, you’re not really ugly. But your perception of yourself tends to be more negative than other’s perceptions of you and this lack of self-esteem can cause others to take advantage of you. Not by complimenting you mind you, but by putting you down while spattering in words of encouragement here and there. A person that is constantly trying to tell you that you’re actually quite beautiful is obviously lying to you*^ so be suspicious of him*^^.
*^no he’s not
3. Looks are really important but do not ever list looks as the most important characteristic you’re looking for in a person, even if it probably is.
In relation to rule 2a, It’s important to note that the first thing people look for in a person, is looks on a person. From the time you are born, people are judging you based on your looks. ”That’s a cute baby” or when the parents aren’t around “That is one. ugly. baby.”
One can not always accurately assess your character, your personality, your traits, your sense of humor, or other things that make up who you are just by looking at you. But they can always judge your looks by looking at you because they are looking at you and so you are always judged by looks on some level. It’s important to you when finding a mate, very important. Do not say that it is important though because then you are shallow. Here are some handy tips for things you can say are more important than looks:
- Sense of humor
Most people will tell you that the most attractive thing is confidence.
3a. A good tip for gaining confidence is to become more attractive.
3b. Most people have some level of shallowness.^* The author of these rules is shallow, though most would probably rate him at “about a 4″ (see rule 2ac), but the author likes attractive people. He’s attracted to them. The more attractive they are, the more attracted he is. See: How attraction works. Acceptance of of this fact will help us absolve ourselves of the myth that confidence and sense of humor are greater than looking like Marion Cotillard or Ryan Gosling.
^* that’s meta
3bc. Even if we have our own personal preferences, attraction is what attracts people to people, not how many 1000-page books you’ve read or that you perform at the Laugh Shack on Thursdays open mic night.^^^
^^^Most would classify this as “cynicism from a bitter author” when in reality it is “reality from a bitter author”. The author enjoys an attractive female and also knows some very attractive people that he would never consider dating because of their terrible personalities. In rule 3bc, the author displays “honesty”, “creativity”, and “sense of humor” but still lacks “handsomeness” because the author had “a whole pizza last night”.
3d. Those traits, deeper explained:
Typically confidence comes from a person that knows they “got it goin’ on.” The difference between “cocky” and “confident” is rather undefined by those that use it as an excuse.
- Sense of humor
Typically, attractive people never developed this. Jesse Kotsopolis was attractive and his humor was rooted in things he did with kids because “look at how fucking cute it is that this hunk loves kids” and not in actual joke-telling. Joey Gladstone was unattractive and had to develop a sense of humor to make friends and defend himself against attractive bullies.
See above: Sense of humor.
See the case of Rebel vs Cause when the person looks like James Dean.
See the case of Dumb v Dumber when the person is Harry and Lloyd.
See above: Maturity. Men are typically most ambitious when it thinks it will land them a “hot babe”.
Honestly. This author might be an author for only that reason.
And then develop creativity. A lot of the world’s greatest visionaries became that way for the opposite sex. If all of a sudden tomorrow “chicks dig cricket” then it will become the most popular sport in America.
The author does not know much about this. Watched a lot of TV as a kid.
There is a distinct difference between being a “nice guy” and being a “good man”:
3da. Don’t be a nice guy, be a good man. Even if you’re a complete douchebag asshole.
- A nice guy will be kind to you, tell you nice things, tell you what he thinks you want to hear. (See all of Rule 2 as to why this is a terrible idea.)
- A good man is not precluded from also doing this, but is not intrinsically tied to doing so. A “good man” might also be a complete asshole to his girlfriend or wife. A “good man” takes care of certain things in his life and therefore is seen as the protector and patriarch of the family as long as he provides. This even includes a “good man” that is abusive. Or it could literally be a “good man” that is kind, humble, generous, and giving, but it is not a requirement of being a “Good man”
- A nice guy is often characterized as being a “pussy” and “finishing last”. ”Girls want bad boys, but not women” is what some women or girls would say. Innately, the desire to simply be with someone that will swing a club over someone else’s head if the enemy gets near the cubs is still most important and nice guys aren’t deemed to do this.
- A good man is entrusted to do this.
*^*^*^* Author’s note
These are just some of the unwritten, now written rules that I am laying out today. The awful truth about why it is better to play games and lie to people while you’re dating them if you want to continue dating them. Why is it awful? Well, it sure would be nicer to live in a world where you could just tell a person how you feel and then they reciprocate and then you move on, wouldn’t it.
Here’s how the rule book looked 100 years ago and further back:
Rule 1. Is Mary-Ann ready to bear children?
If yes: See if the Anderson boy is single
If no: Wait until she’s had her first “visit”
It might seem primitive and unromantic to us now, but it sure was a lot easier.
April 6, 2013 § 6 Comments
Last time on Sub-Standard: After a less-than-pleasurable experience at two different Subways awhile back, I wrote this letter to Denise in customer service. It was fun and funny. I was hardly upset with the sandwich conglomerate, just a minor setback in our decades old relationship, but now I’ve got to say…
I’m a little perturbed.
I never did hear from Denise again. I imagine her sitting on a beach somewhere, maybe Cancun, and she’s just happy. Living the life I had always dreamed for her to live. I really wish I had though, because Subway pulled the absolute worst move that a food chain can pull when they’re trying to make up for mistakes gone by; a phone call and an appointment for me to pick up a free sub.
“But Kenny, you’re getting a free sub!”
“But reader, I asked for redemption, not an errand that I have to run!”
The “come in and ask for the manager” move is the absolute dregs of customer service in this society we live in. If it were in the Brat Pack, it would be Judd Nelson. What if I don’t feel comfortable talking to a manager at the Subway that I complained about trying to get something for free? What if, and I know this is impossible for you to believe Subway, but what if I don’t even want Subway for the next month or two? Oh, and by the way, what if they don’t believe me?
Bingo! Now you know why I couldn’t drop this complaint, a minor setback that would have been better solved by silence than by giving me a chore to do. You’ll be hard-pressed to get me to go to an appointment at the doctor or the dentist, let alone a fast food chain for a free $5 footlong. But that’s what they did when I got a call from some guy telling me that I could come in and ask for the manager (whose name I don’t recall because it’s not my job to recall names when you fu*k up my order. I have cousins whose names I don’t know) and that I would get a free sub of my choosing.
I took them up on their stupid offer anyway. That was a mistake.
It’s time for another edition of “My complaint to Subway”! By the way, I love that above the box on their “message customer service” box on the website are these words: This is where you write your message
Thanks. I would have never figured that one out. It’s a wonder that I ever managed to interact with society long enough to order a sandwich without shitting my pants and stripping off my clothes.
Here we go:
First off, I want to congratulate you. After years of escaping custody or detection it appears you are finally on to me. Yes, it is I, the Sandwich Bandit! Also known as the Sandit! All I have to do is go into any of your 1,000,000 locations across these grand United States and tell your employees that I received a phone call from a manager telling me to come in and get a free sub after they had screwed up, and they would give it to me. Unbelievable! I mean, we aren’t talking about just any free item here, we’re talking about a sandwich. Thanks to this scam, I haven’t had to work for 13 years.
But that’s not why I do it. It’s not about the tens of dollars I save on sandwiches, though it is nice to know what Donald Trump must feel like. No, I do it for the thrill. I can’t tell you how exciting it is to have adrenaline rushing through my veins as they are unwittingly toasting a sub that I will get for free even though I am totally fooling them.
It was all as my dad taught me to do from the time I was a little kid. You see, Curly Sue wasn’t only based on a true story but it was based on me and they changed it from a boy to a girl because Alisan Porter was too cute for words. I didn’t mind though, and I got a free signed six-inch meatball sub from Jim Belushi. He was kind enough to give me a free sub, and so to have you been doing for all of these years.
But today was perhaps the final day for me. I walked into your Subway on National Blvd and told them what I’ve been telling thousands of artists for years, that I had an issue with my last visit and was told I could get a free sub. As I waited for them to apologize and work it out, you can imagine my surprise when they didn’t comply.
“Look, I would have much preferred just a coupon but I was told to just come in and say what I am saying right now.”
She looked back at me deeply, silent, speechless. I wondered what her life must be like, what her hopes are, what she dreams of, and for that moment we weren’t a customer and a sandwich artist; we were one. We were friends, soulmates, lovers, dreamers, children, animals, we were wind and water and fire and stone. But only for a fleeting moment did we hold this glance of perfect understanding.
And then she told me that she couldn’t help me because she didn’t know what I was talking about, and so I paid regular price for a sub. Regular price?! I guess I’ll have to get a job again. I took out a loan just today to make up for buying a whole sub.
I’ll try again tomorrow and see if perhaps the dream isn’t dead. I just pray that never the day comes when a person makes a minor complaint and you simply send them a coupon, not much different than the millions of coupons you send out in the Daily, rather than make them go talk to a manager to make up for their last unpleasant experience at one of your 1,000,000 Subway restaurants in these grand United States. Please, don’t ever ever ever do that. It would be too sensible. I’ll just be here, finishing my full price sub and waiting for the day when Prince Charming comes along and simply buys my subs for me.
And now, we wait.
Here is a little bit more to the story, because that wasn’t detailed enough. I walked up to the Subway nervous because I felt like maybe they wouldn’t believe me because why would they? But that’s what I was told to do. I leaned in closely to the sandwich artist and whispered softly, “Yeah, I had a minor issue last time I was here and they told me I could come in and get a free sub?”
Then she sort of stared back at me like, “What the heck are you talking about?” Then she asked the other girl making a sandwich for someone else and when she stopped making the sandwich for the other customer, I was like “no no no, go back to her sandwich it’s no big deal.” I was embarrassed that I had to go into a Subway and ask for a free sandwich but THAT’S WHAT I WAS TOLD TO DO. After minor quibbling, I told her to just make me a sandwich (that sounds so misogynistic even if you’re AT Subway) and if it didn’t get worked out I would just pay for it. Because here’s the secret that I dare never tell anyone but I’ll reveal it to you just this one time.
I can afford sandwiches.
I don’t go around trying to screw over major corporations by stealing all of their sandwiches. But as a company providing something to a customer, when you fuck up, make up for it. Have make-up sex with me, in the metaphorical sense. Bang me hard with your cold cut combo and tell me it’s free and I’ve been a bad boy. Don’t give me a chore to do and then when I do it, make me pay for another sub. Which is exactly what I did because I felt like a FOOL in the first place. You do this to us because you know that a large percentage of people that complain will never take you up on your offer. The right thing to do would be to send me a coupon and tell me to go to hell if I don’t like it. Want to save paper? Great, you had someone email me in the first place so have her email me a one-time coupon. It’s so easy to do, even a moron like me that wouldn’t know “Where the message goes durr duh duh duh” would be able to do it and figure it out.
What could have been ended weeks ago rages on. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to go tell a wealthy widow that I’ve got a great investment for her and that I love her.
April 2, 2013 § 5 Comments
Are you 30, lonely, and hoping that you will finally find that special someone that’s going to pick you up by your boot straps and get you back on the horse of life? Are you not concerned about whether or not that person on the other end is really a 24-year-old nursing student named Annie or actually a 46-year-old father of two? Then you’re in luck!
Thanks to a connection of roughly seven to sixty-five trillion wires stretching under the ground everywhere from Hollywood, California to Van Nuys, California called the “internet”, you can find people that are willing to pretend to be whatever you want them to be for the purposes of gaining their own power and sexual gratification! Who cares if it’s really “Annie” or “Andy” as long as you’re getting your emotional jollies. It’s Adam and Eve not adam_antium321 and h0tn_readyg1rl_eve!
Within minutes, or even months, you too will be able to chat with someone that really cares you exist, even if they don’t. Here is how!
1. Go onto the internet!
The first step in developing any fake online relationship of course involves getting onto the internet, or “world wide web.” Plug your 56k modem into the nearest phone jack:
2. Find new friends, and tell them about yourself with 3 easy letters
Sign into America Online and go to America On-Line (AOL) Instant Messenger (IM) programmer. Find a chatroom labeled something like “Cool Teens” or “Young Moms” and introduce yourself. Say something like “Hey, everybody. I’m gandalf_l0ver112″ and then give out these 3 key bits of information about yourself:
- Sex (gender)
- Location (where you at?)
Also known as “A/S/L”. This let’s people know how old you are, what gender you are, and where you are located. Now they have some sort of idea if you are in their same age range, if you are a boy or a girl, and if you are located near them. Or in some cases, it might be best if you’re not located near them! This will really heighten the ability to be a fake online boyfriend and girlfriend, because you couldn’t meetup without a train ticket or car.
3. Make yourself attractive to others
You’re trying to lure yourself a catfish, it doesn’t hurt to be a catfish. We aren’t trying to mate between species, after all. Have you ever seen a fish have sex with a duck? Of course not. Would you like to? Of course you would, but you aren’t that lucky. So tell some lies on the internet.
As the girl from Perverted Justice once said: “Come on in, I’ve made some lemonade. I just need to throw this into the dryer.”
It may be best to hang back for awhile and see which fake A/S/L best suits your needs. If you really want a 22-year-old female catfish in the Bay area, then try a chatroom like “SF hotteyz” and relax in the 33-person chatroom with 31 guys and 2 “girls” that are pretty much chatting to each other while 3 guys control the conversation and 28 “people” lurk in the background because they’re even afraid that they’ll be judged anonymously.
Eventually you will decide that you don’t care at all if the person is 22, just as long as they’re under 30 and you won’t mind where they live as long as it’s in the continental United States, so long as they claim to be female. By day three, you’re only rule is that they claim to be 18 (because Chris Hansen seems like kind of a jerk, which might have entirely to do with the fact that he almost exclusively interviews men who like boys and girls under 15) and that they live on this planet, and now you’re starting to lax on the whole ‘gender’ thing too. By day 45, you’ve won the Heisman trophy.
Man and woman or man and man or woman and woman, whatever the parts will fit together if you try enough combinations. But on the internet, your parts don’t touch and nothing can be given a title if you’re not touching it’s all good you guys. Anything goes, so get on the web (short-hand for internet terms can help reduce keystrokes) and find yourself a mate. It’s like my mama always said: The net is like a box of chocolates that did not come with a reference guide to which chocolate contains which flavors, you never know what kind of treat is inside until you bite.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some fishin’ to do.
March 18, 2013 § 1 Comment
I don’t have much to say today. If you’re wondering what Subway’s response to my complaint was, so am I. Denise apparently did not take my email very seriously, which is bullcrap because what if the world is completely robbed of Sub-Standard? All I’m asking for is one chance, lady-who-responds-to-Subway-customer-complaints.
I just want to point out a quick observance of something we are all probably familiar with but something I also have never put much thought into. For the purpose of… there is no purpose. Appreciate it with me because I’m lonely? Yeah, I guess that’ll do.
I was seven when Kindergarten Cop (1990) was released. When you think about it, Kindergarten Cop is a great movie because it’s one of those movies that should transcend at least a couple of generations. I enjoyed it when I was 7 or 8 and saw it. I feel like it should also appeal to someone that was in high school at the time, or older, but then again this is completely untrue for me to claim because I am totally biased. I will never be able to see Kindergarten Cop in the way that someone born in 1960 is able to see Kindergarten Cop. I watch it now and I still love it, so that’s why I feel like it’s something for adults, but a lot of that is based in nostalgia.
Yet I have no idea how an Arnold Schwarzenegger-Penelope Ann Miller vehicle would be anything but a hit. Not to mention Miko f***ing Hughes, the most child actor of my generation. And it was Hughes that stole the show by delivering the line of the movie, the quote that should bring down the house whether it’s full of 7-year-old’s like me, or older people like my mommy and daddy.
I was sitting here today thinking of stand-up comedy and joke-telling and came back to one of the classics: The differences between men and women. Of course, “Women be shoppin’!” is one of my all-time favorites, with Dave Chappelle delivering the classic line in The Nutty Professor. It’s simple comedy (terrible comedy when not done ironically, which obviously it was here) that gets to the base of “what’s the joke about the differences between men and women?”
Women like to shop and men don’t!
Not much different than “black people walk like this…. but white people walk like this!” We laugh at our differences and that’s all observational humor is meant to do, laugh at who we are and what we can relate to, but “Women be shoppin!” was very, very simple. But you can get even more shallow than that.
I never thought about the joke in Kindergarten Cop as anything more than that, just a joke, and perhaps it could be said that it’s even a “lazy” attempt at humor, but now I see it as more than that. It’s more like the most perfect joke there is, because it points out the differences between men and women. No, it points out the difference between men and women. It’s exactly, to a tee, who a kindergarten student would do for observational humor if he was giving a stand-up routing to his class. And now I love it more than ever.
Boys have a penis, and girls have a vagina.
Indeed they do, Miko. Indeed they do.
March 4, 2013 § 15 Comments
On Saturday morning I got up at around 8 AM in a bad way. (I don’t see this phrase “in a bad way” used a lot so here it is with my first usage of it.) We got superbly hammered on Friday night and I didn’t eat very much so the hangover was especially worse and my cure for any hangover is usually “way too much food” because how much more damage could I do to my body?
I decided on Subway. I went to a Subway that I don’t usually go to because when I started driving I didn’t know where I was going then I said, “Subway b-fast is pretty good actually” and I probably actually said “breakfast” and not the shorter version in my head but I said it shorter there to save time. See how much time I saved? I decided on a six-inch something on flatbread. I don’t remember exactly what but it had egg (yellow) and other things. Use your imagination! I paid for it and left. No, I paid for it and also spend over $4 on a frappacino at the next door Coffee Bean. I’m not good with money or eating habits or drinking habits. So far this story is incredibly unflattering.
It gets worse.
After I demolished that six-inch sub (the size choice of six inches because I decided “I don’t need a whole damn foot of breakfast sub”) I went to a different Subway and ordered another six-inch breakfast sub. Damn it damn it damn it damn it. The first sub was okay, but mostly I was still not feeling well and just wanted to eat more things. I went to the other Subway and ordered a different six-inch breakfast sub. After we were wrapping up (pun) the order, the woman asked me if I wanted coffee or soda. ”No, I’m good” (which is code for, “I would love some more stuff but I’ve spent like $14 already on this random morning breakfast outing”) ’twas my reply. But there’s more she explained:
“Oh but it’s the same price.”
“BWAH!?!?!” because I probably did have an audible freakout over free soda or coffee. But mostly I was concerned that either A) The first Subway did not inform me of a free soda or coffee or B) that one of the Subways was just giving shit away without rhyme or reason. (Or maybe C) Different store policies because this is a franchise, but I just doubt that explanation.) I’m not mad at the first Subway, but I was curious as hell as to what was happened. I had to contact Subway and keep them abreast about the situation and what’s going on with some of their Los Angeles area Subways.
(by the fucking way, when I did a location search for Subways near my zip code, the below image is my result. There are more Subways than there are McDonalds, and holy shit that must be true. This is maybe an example of one square mile…)
It sort of reminds me of what maps will look like when a zombie invasion or virus outbreak happens in the world. ”This is what the country will look like after one hour. /next slide. After 1 day.” and then it keeps growing except in this case it’s just more and more Subways until the whole world is covered in Subways except for the oceans, in which only about 15% are covered with floating Subways.
I sent Subway an email through their website, which I sadly do not have anymore. It was kinda funny but I basically just wanted to know which Subway was right and that the woman at the second Subway did an excellent job of informing me of this free soda, unless there wasn’t supposed to be a free soda in which case reprimand her I guess? I didn’t want to get anyone in trouble!
Oh, the flatbread at both places was also stale and I did not even finish the second sub. This was 75% because it turns out I only need 2 more inches (lol!) of sub to satisfy myself but 25% because the flatbread was so stale that it was sort of like eating a sandwich in which you’ve used cardboard as the slices, which I guess you would call a “Hobo Sandwich” trademark.
Denise at Customer Care sent me this response:
Thank you for taking the time to share your comments with us.
In order to better assist you, I will need to know the exact location of the SUBWAY® restaurant that you have visited so that our regional office can investigate this properly. Would you please reply by e-mail or by calling me at 1-800-888-4848 ext. 8201 to provide me with a complete address of the location you visited or a nearby landmark. Please refer to the Customer ID listed below when replying.
I appreciate that you took the time and effort to contact us and am looking forward to hearing from you at your earliest convenience.
Fair enough! I was honestly wondering if Subway was going to respond because it had been two days and conglomerates usually have an entire nation of customer care people but then I realize now that it was the weekend and they also get a lot of complaints. I guess I’ve been soured too because I sent Apple an honest-to-God “this is Bullshit!” complaint a little while ago and they ignored me… twice!
I am actually a pretty sweet man to customer service people. Their jobs suck and they’re doing the best they can and it’s not their fault and they can only do so much. So on the phone or whatever I will try and make their day and be a fun-loving customer that’s had a rough interaction with their company. I am not mad at Subway, their reputation for stale bread precedes them anyway, but I decided to have fun with this one. I ended up having maybe too much fun, but could also have an Emmy-award winning show on our hands. Here is my response to Denise:
Hi Denise (that’s my mothers name too!)I looked up the locations on your handy website. Man, you guys have a lot of locations! Not a problem, everybody needs sandwiches and that kind of convenience certainly doesn’t sub me the wrong way.Subway #13028 was the second location. That girl should be given a raise, but I don’t know her name so I guess give all the girls there raises. They’ve always been nice to me. Oh wait, except the flatbread was so hard that I didn’t finish half of it. Keep everyone at the same payscale actually.Subway #13477 was the first location. I think that they should just know “Hey, free drinks!” if there really are free drinks when you order a certain breakfast sub, because that’s a great deal. If it really is a deal, you should be advertising it more. It could go, “Free. Free dollars. Free dollars driiinkkkss! Come on down to Subway and get a free coffee or soda with every sub sandwich purchase before 9 am! Can you believe we’re just giving this stuff away? Tell ‘em Jared” and then Jared comes on and says, “You guys should really just be getting water anyway.” And then McKayla Maroney is all “I’m not impressed, get me a diet coke!” and then the two of them, Jared and McKayla Maroney stand back-to-back with their arms folded and a look like “This guy!” Maybe it could even be a sitcom this fall on NBC? The show could be called “Sub-Standard” and it’s about Jared from Subway and he’s dating McKayla Maroney and he’s always trying to lose weight or gain muscle and do better for her but always falling short and her catchphrase could be like, “Oh brother!” and his catch phrase after she burns him with another mean look will be “I didn’t ask if you wanted it toasted or untoasted!” Is she 18 though? Look, I haven’t thought this all the way through yet, I’m just spitballing. Tell me if you think that will work Denise.Also get back to me about the stale bread I guess, but mostly your thoughts on “Sub-Standard”.Thanks and have a wonderful day!Kenny (writer and creator of Sub-Standard. Also plays the whacky neighbor ”Mr Fundek”)
March 1, 2013 § 4 Comments
I don’t think that I am the first person to ask questions in relation to existentialism. In fact, I know that I am not because I just used the word ‘existentialism’ and I certainly did not just make it up. I don’t think that I am the only person to constantly ask myself questions like “What the hell am I doing here?” and “Why do I have to exist?” and sometimes wishing that I had never existed in the first place so I wouldn’t have to worry about eating too many hamburgers or drinking too much alcohol. My boss wants me to work tomorrow night from 8 PM to 4 AM…
Again, why the hell am I here?
Why do I have to deal with my idiotic boss? Why do I have to go to the gym later? Why do we have water, and air, and fun size Crunch bars, and Lollapalooza, and dinosaur fossils, and World War II, and the word ‘often’, and Push Pops?
It’s such a damn frustrating question, trying to figure out why the hell any of this was brought here, and after billions of years of the universe it doesn’t seem we are any closer to any answers. If most things appear to have a purpose then certainly the biggest thing of all, EVERYTHING, has to have one too, right? But there does not appear to be a logical purpose to the existence of everything we’ve ever known and if the universe was wiped away from existence right at this very second… So what? What would be the loss, really? We don’t know because we really don’t know what we have ever gained. The dinosaurs roamed the Earth for over 150 million years which is like 750 times longer than humans and our ancestors. Or just think about how long modern humans have lived or how long since the start of the industrial age or how long since we’ve had the internet and it’s ridiculous to think about how short our existence has been and if the only purpose of the dinosaurs was to give us oil and the Jurassic Park trilogy after 150,000,000 years of existence then what the hell is the good of us?
I feel like such a pompous ass to even bring up the question as if I could grasp a small fraction of what Kierkegaard or Nietzche could understand, or that even asking “Why do we ask why?” is going to make a damn difference, or that it might look like I would assume that nobody else but me is bothered by these questions (see, I could be making a pompous ass out of u and me) or the age old problem that even bringing it up is rather another exercise in futility… but fuck!
That’s the best that I’ve got. That’s me as a philosopher. And it might not be deep and it might not help anyone, anywhere, any time, but I am just so frustrated that we all must wallow in our existence and not even be given a clue as to WHY? Fuuuuuuuucccckkkkkkk.
In my next example, I don’t want to just say “humanity” because animals deserve answers too. I don’t want to just say “creatures”, because plants deserve answers too. And I don’t want to say just “life”, because inanimate objects deserve answers too and to be honest with you who am I to say there isn’t some life in a star or an ocean or a planet? So I will just say, “STUFF”:
I just wish that STUFF could go on a daytime talk show like Maury and the topic of today’s show is “WHY?”. And then Maury would get to setup the show and play clips of STUFF and WHY and lay out the concept of today’s show.
Maury: Take a look at this.
WHY: I’m gonna be who I be and ain’t nobody gonna tell me that I gotta give ‘em answers.
STUFF: I’m just so frustrated with WHY and I don’t know if I can put up with it anymore. WHY is worse than an out-of-control teen and I need to send WHY to the Answers boot camp.
WHY: I don’t care. /finger wave
STUFF: Maury, please help my teen, WHY.
Maury: Okay, please welcome WHY to the show!
(audience boos and hisses)
WHY: FUCK YOU! YOU DON’T KNOW ME!! FUCK YOU!
Maury: Why, everyone wants to know…. Why?
WHY: I’MMA DO WHAT I WANT!
WHY: FUCK YOU!
Maury: Let’s bring out, STUFF.
STUFF: I don’t know if I can take it anymore, Maury. I just need to know WHY.
Maury: WHY, doesn’t that hurt a little? To see STUFF in pain?
WHY: (calmer) I don’t care.
WHY: FUCK YOU!
Maury: Well, WHY, I’ve got a surprise for you. You’re going to ANSWERS camp!
Maury: We’ll be right back, and that’s when you’ll get the ANSWERS!
And then the show goes to commercial break and never comes back.
For Christ’s sake, WHO IS THE FATHER?! Oh, speaking of Christ and father’s, I don’t want to get into a religious debate. This isn’t about religion. But even religion doesn’t actually have answers, it only has a peace of mind but it doesn’t have answers. God created the heavens and the Earth (and other planets too I assume now that we know about other planets and other things, right?) because he was bored and stuff — Cheers was a re-run that day.
The most frustrating part about life is life. The fact that it even is. I spend all day looking around at shit and thinking, “Seriously? Pens?!?!” or ”Oh wow… calenders!” and “What genius came up with cups, am I right?!”
Will we ever get any answers or is it going to be more disappointing than the Architect in the Matrix? Was there ever a purpose or a being or a something that would be around to give us any answers? Do we find out after life? Therein lies the problem with even starting a post like this: They just end.