You talkn' to me?

Mr. Pickles you are on my list. I have sought revenge on the pages of Yelp! Ha!

Today, after a visit to the pumpkin patch in Livermore (see the happy photos) the family and I decided to grab lunch at a very casual sandwich shop, Mr. Pickles. When I use the word casual, I specifically mean about a half step up from Subway. This type of restaurant suits us perfectly, since our kid's are not the type to appreciate or respect the rules of a fancier establishment. Mr. Pickles has counter service, very loud music, and was very busy. We ordered our sandwiches, and I admit it, the boys were a bit rambunctious, but in a good way. They were having fun. We purchased 2 kids meals for the boys, and sandwiches for us. We found a table behind a group of college age boys who looked like they might have been nursing a hangover, but they looked happy enough eating their gigantic subs. The rest of the place was full of people noisily trying to converse over the blaring music.

We started eating our meals. The boys continued their bantar and play between bites. Just as I was about half way through my sandwich, some skinny kid in a Mr. Pickles shirt came to our table and informed us that he had received a complaint about our children and could we kindly move outside. Outside? In the cold? Excuse me? I could barely sputter out a response. I don't remember exactly what I said but I believe it was something to this affect: "Are you kidding me?" "In this place? Just who are we bothering? Who comes to Mr. Pickles expecting peace and quiet?" The skinny kid went on, sweetly explaining to us that he could wrap up our food to go. It was all I could do from hurling my sandwich in his pimply face. He caught me on a bad day. I was a little short on patience. I went on to tell the guy that they shouldn't have a kid's menu if they were not prepared to serve actual children, and my husband out of character, mumbled something about this being really "f*cked up".

With a huff we packed up our drinks and sandwiches and moved outside to eat in the wind and slight drizzle, but I had lost my appetite. I sat there stewing and thinking about what I could possibly do to get back at this stupid restaurant and that bratty sandwich maker. Clearly, I will never return to a Mr. Pickles, and I have made my little visit to Yelp, yet my blood is still boiling. Just wait until that loser franchise manager has a kid of his own, now that will be the sweetest revenge.