t was a fine summer’s day. The sun was shining, the breeze was warm and there was probably an adorable newborn fawn prancing around a meadow somewhere.

It was the perfect day. And that’s when I decided today was the day that I wouldn’t go to Subway. I wasn’t about to throw all that away just to eat at Subway.

So skip forward one week. It was rainy, the wind had chilled and that adorable newborn fawn was probably being eaten by a wolf somewhere. Today was the perfect day to stop by Subway.

But before I get to tearing Subway’s food a new a*****, here’s a little snippet from Subway’s storied history. Back in 2013, Subway was tweeted a picture of one of its $5 Footlongs clearly spanning only 11 inches in length. Subway Australia responded on its official Facebook page with, “With regards to the size of the bread and calling it a footlong, “SUBWAY FOOTLONG” is a registered trademark as a descriptive name for the sub sold in Subway® Restaurants and not intended to be a measurement of length.”

That right there is some grade A bull. Getting defensive about footlong being just a name and not a unit of measurement is like calling grape juice a “LIFE SAVING BLOOD TRANSFUSION” then feeling baffled when people get upset about it.

But with that important context out of the way, it’s time to move onto the food.

The disappointing, disappointing food.

I ordered a roast beef on wheat with lettuce, green peppers and pepper jack cheese,  and watched the sandwich artist measure the precise allotment of every ingredient that went into the sandwich. From that moment on, I realized my chances of getting an accidental extra slice of roast beef were roughly the same as Kanye West gaining the 2020 Republican presidential nomination.

While the majority of toppings and sauces were included with the price of a sandwich, one notable exception was guacamole. I would have happily added the guac to my sandwich for an extra $1.50, but unfortunately my butler left my limitless credit card in my other tuxedo.

All in all, I ended up paying just under $8.50 for the bare-bones sandwich. After putting my considerably slimmer wallet away and taking my sandwich I headed back to the car, my preferred place to eat when I’ve been financially violated.

After unwrapping the sandwich and buckling up for safety, I took my first bite.

The first thought that crossed my mind was, “Well, it’s better than starving I guess.”

That thought proceeded to be the ongoing theme throughout the entire sandwich.

The sandwich was about 70 percent bread, which is something I only look for in banana bread when the other 30 percent is frosting. This is a problem that could have been solved by adding more meat and toppings, but then the cost would most likely be transferred to the consumer in the form of a second mortgage on their house.

In reality it wasn’t a terrible sandwich. But when you’re spending almost $10 on a sandwich, it probably shouldn’t be measured on an “it wasn’t that terrible” scale.

Overall, the roast beef only earned itself a two out of five stars for its cost to value ratio.

If the same sandwich was only $5 like back in the day, it could have earned itself at least one more star. But that’s not the world we live in today.

Today, we live in a world of violence, agony, despair and overpriced roast beef sandwiches.

Brendan McCabe is the features editor for The Dakota Student. He can be reached at [email protected]