The Sandwich…

Note: No actual sandwiches were harmed in the making of this post 👍.

So here I am, on a tray, being passed around.

Various sandwich eaters cast their murderous eyes on me before selecting the egg mayo or the ham salad.

What’s your favourite sandwich? Let me know below.

One of them even let their hand hover just above me for a few excruciating seconds before veering left and snapping up the smoked salmon.

If there’s one profession where it pays to be unpopular, it’s that of a sandwich.

Fortunately, I’m about as unpopular as it gets.

I’m a tuna and sweetcorn.

Even I wouldn’t choose to add me to the cheap paper plates being used as food troughs by the bunch of suited and booted murderers attending something called a ‘networking event’.

As far as I can tell, all that happens at events like this is that the murderers spend a few hours pretending to be important and indulge in competitions to see who can use words like ‘Authentic’, ‘Disruptive’, and ‘Inspiring’ the most.

This is done regardless of whether they make any sense within whatever nonsensical conversation is taking place.

If I were playing, I’d introduce myself as a ‘Authentic, Disrupter of the Inspired’.

I’m new to the game, but I’m sure that would win me first crack at the cheesecake, once the sandwiches and sausage rolls have been devoured.

When I say devoured, that obviously means all but myself and the avocado salad.

Our fate is yet to be confirmed.

The first port of call on our journey of despair is the ‘upstairs office’. Here we are plonked alongside the few remaining cheese and onion crisps.

Our arrival is marked by someone cheerily announcing that...

“There are a few nibbles left from the event downstairs, help yourselves”.

Nibbles! I despair, I really do. Do I look like a nibble?

What the fuck is a nibble anyway?

Plenty of people came to look, but nobody took the plunge.

We had Rick from IT come in, leave, then proclaim, unnecessarily loudly to the rest of the team.

“Just the shit ones left, as usual”.

I think we all know what Rick rhymes with.

Jane, who I think works in something called Human Resources, whatever that is, was a bit nicer.

“I like the bread they’ve used, but I’m not keen on avocado, and tuna brings me out in a rash.”

In the end, despite us having seen our prime come and go, one of the cleaners packed us up and took us home.

Where we were fed to the dog.

At least the avocado salad was. Even a scratty mongrel chose to pass on the tuna and sweetcorn.

I ended up in the bin (trash 😉).

Which I class as some kind of victory.

I stuck it to the man.

In your face, sandwich-eating murderers.

☺️

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If you enjoyed reading this, please give it a restack. It’s important that these fictional sandwiches didn’t die in vain 👍.

All my writing is reader supported. New Subscribers/Upgrades etc. are tastier even than a ham and cheese toastie.

Of course a sandwich is best accompanied by a drink of some kind

❤️