Subway has recently reinstated its famous “Five-dollar foot-long” submarine sandwiches and I am especially thrilled on two accounts. First, I get to save money on quick and healthy food. And second, I get to experience more of Subway’s mastermind concept.

Personally, Subway provides much more than just a quick-service dining establishment, because for once in my life I get to be the muse. It is my taste buds that direct the strokes of the sandwich artist in determining exactly how to construct a one-of-a-kind work of art.

At Subway my opinion matters and I, as consumer, serve a vital role in the production of my product. This I like.

Recently, however, I’ve started to notice other franchises picking up on this model and I have some mixed feelings to discuss. Think Snappy Salads at NorthPark, Which Wich and Genghis Grill.

Thanks to a coupon, I had a discounted meal at Genghis Grill with my boyfriend. Initially, I thought the schematics of the restaurant were genius: build your own perfect Mongolian stir-fry bowl with over 70 ingredient options. Conceptually, it seemed brilliant, but in execution it was awful, dreadful, appalling, etc.

The first step of this endeavor is being greeted by a host and directed to a table. Then the server comes to your booth, interrupts your stress-free environment and escorts you to the cooking station where you are instructed to “build your bowl.” You are then forced to guess at proportional amounts of meat, seasoning, vegetables, starches and sauces that could potentially taste good once aimlessly thrown together on a large circular wok.

And there’s the flaw. If I wanted to cook, I would have stayed home. And if I wanted to work to eat, I would have done a job where I am provided with compensation.

I go to a restaurant because I cannot season my own meat as well as a professional chef. I do not pay $13 for a combination of ingredients, I pay $13 for the expertise with which they are assembled and cooked. I pay $13 for the service I cannot, nor wish to do.

But instead, at Genghis Grill my $13 entitled me to become a member of the prep staff, give a sad attempt at being a chef and become a food runner.

On that note, I’d like to expand Marx’s theory of the exploitation of the worker to include the newest stage of corporate corruption: exploitation of the consumer. In order to cut back costs, executives on the top rung of the corporate latter have “brilliantly” decided to withdraw services once provided to the customer. But don’t you think they have gone too far? Since when is it okay to have a restaurant without a chef?

Genghis Grill isn’t alone. Consumer exploitation occurs on many levels where we are forced into situations that appear on the surface to be to our advantage, but really just exploit us for the financial benefit of the producer.

Hanes makes me buy a 10-pack of socks when I only wanted two. J. Crew forces me to spend $150 so I can get free shipping. Apple makes me buy a wall charger for my iPod because I don’t have the privilege of owning my own computer. Expiration dates are set so far in advance that I’m struck with the fear of the Lord to buy more Mayfield 2% milk.

Buyers beware: We are a target for exploitation because what is lost at our expense is worth something to business moguls.

Logan Masters is a junior sociology major. She can be reached for comment at [email protected].