Nothing, but an animal...

I had a little over five bucks in my pocket when I staggered off the street into Subway. As a rule, I'm trying to lay off the bread, but I was hungry. I was very hungry and the sign said five dollar foot-long subs. I really didn't see that I had a choice.

"What do you need?" The kid asked me.

I looked up and told him, "I need a foot-long meatball sub."

He shrugged, grabbed a loaf of bread, sliced it open then started loading meatballs and marinara on top of it. Like he was giving a lesson, he explained what he was doing along the way.

"I'm only supposed to put eight meatballs on a sandwich this size." He shrugged. "I don't care."

Before he started dumping the cheese on top, I counted fourteen.

"You see, it's all about portion control here." He rolled his eyes. "For instance, I'm only supposed to put something like two ounces of cheese on this size sandwich." He held it up. "Does this look like two ounces to you?"

No. No, I couldn't say that it did.

He smiled. "Yeah, it's about four. Portion control," he snorted.

He toasted my sandwich, then wrapped it up. I paid my five bucks and change for the sandwich, but before I took it, he mentioned he put in a few extra napkins.

All part of the service.

I didn't look it as an act of kindness to a weary stranger down to his last five dollars. It was better than that. It was a futile act of rebellion against conformity and worth more to me than a full belly. I was grateful he let me be part of it... and the sandwich was pretty good.