Foot Long and Fancy-Free

Today after lunch with a fellow office-knight, I returned to my duties only to be apprehended again by the same, who pointed out that we both smelled like a mixture of baked goods and Subway sandwiches (of which our noonday repast was primarily composed). This is definitely a source of shame for me: I’ve been taken in by the rhetoric of Doctor’s Associates, Inc. (the holding-company of Subway brand restaurants): the promise of fresh bread and “Five Dollar Foot Longs” has been too much for this knight’s calorie-addled senses. Why does consuming twelve inches of bread smothered in cheese, farm-raised chicken, and cheap veggies seem like a good idea? [On the subject of food quality standards, Subway encouragingly notes on their website that “the SUBWAY® chain has initiated a number of "Gold Standard" policies regarding prepared food and produce manufacturing and inspection specifications.” It’s true, gold standards are very encouraging. My helmet, in fact, has a gold standard in the shape of a giant **** emblazoned on it. Whoops, I mean, a foot long sandwich. Makes you feel safe, don’t it?]

In a word, it is the illusion of choice. It is the idea that I can have anything I want on my sandwich (which today happened to be 3 different kinds of peppers, most importantly) to make it taste however I want. This is a falsehood. As my fellow office-knight noted, we smelled like Subway. Try it. Go into one of these fine establishments for a while, and see if you don’t have a distinctive odor about you when you come out – this is also the way your sandwich will taste, but the illusion of choice makes you think you’re getting exactly what you want. I do not approve of this sorcery, but its siren song calls me every day, “Sans Loy, oooooooooo, you can get so much more food for five dollars at Subway than at the abysmal Plum Café in the office. OoooOOooooooO”

And so I return, my tail between my legs, lamenting that I forgot to pack a lunch in the saddlebags today.