No matter what I eat, I find my appetite insatiable until I take the first bite of my favorite treat. Many people find my addiction to not only be a hazard to my wallet, but a hazard to my health. At first, I avoided this criticism by simply going to get my favorite sandwich, the “Slim 3,” in secret. But now that I’m a believer, I can feed my addiction from the confines of my own home. Yes, I believe in Jimmy John’s sandwich delivery.
I was first introduced to Jimmy John’s by my college roommate midway through my freshman year. Not even she was aware of the delivery service Jimmy John’s offered. I walked the strenuous quarter mile to what, unbeknownst to me, was Virginia Tech’s most popular sandwich supplier. I played my order safe, choosing a simple sandwich of tuna, mayonnaise and bread. Little did I know this decision would turn me into a Jimmy John’s Junkie; one bite and I was hooked.
I frequented Jimmy John’s often, refusing to veer away from my favorite sandwich. To some it’s only tuna and bread; to me it’s bliss.
I will never forget the night I discovered Jimmy John’s not only catered to my hunger but my laziness as well. Pulling up to my dorm one evening, I noticed a man stepping out of a car sporting a Jimmy John’s bag and coordinating hat. I thought to myself, “perhaps he is more addicted to their baked-to-perfection bread than I,” but shortly after, I realized that such an addiction was not possible. I could lie and say that we happened to be going the same direction, but truthfully, I followed him. It wasn’t until he knocked on a random door and traded his prize possession for wadded up bills that he fulfilled one of my wildest dreams. Jimmy John’s delivers!
I immediately ran back to my dorm and dialed the operator, insisting they connect me to Jimmy John’s immediately. Once my order was placed, I waited anxiously by the door. I forced my roommate to sit in silence in order to ensure no noise masked the highly anticipated knock. Apparently, Jimmy John’s prides itself in fast delivery, but on that night, only warped speed would be fast enough. I paced in front of my door, periodically peeking through the peephole to see if the deliveryman was, for some reason, quietly waiting outside. Pacing, peeping, pacing, peeping, then finally: knock! The food had arrived and I could not have opened the door and grabbed my beloved sandwich any faster. I closed the door and sunk into my computer chair. Opening the bag and unwrapping the sandwich, I realized that my relationship with Jimmy Johns was forever changed.
Since that discovery, I’ve become one of Jimmy John’s laziest and most profitable customers. Yes, you could blame the tuna shortage on my addiction and the disintegration of the o-zone layer on the excessively driven delivery car. But I’ll harbor all the blame to be able to enjoy my favorite sandwich without ever leaving the couch.
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