The Deconstructed Sandwich
"So, this is kind of weird, but I want to make my own sandwich."
When I walked into Brody Square on Sunday, October 30, I had my mind set on making my own sandwich. This wasn't something I decided to do on a whim, but rather a carefully planned experience that was aimed at challenging the McDonaldized operations of this cafeteria. The sandwich station within Brody was one of the best places to test this phenomenon, since it is operated just like an assembly line; "by following the steps in a predesigned process," this system functions efficiently (Ritzer 13). While the dining halls at Michigan State are not the most McDonaldized food places that exist, but there are several other aspects of George Ritzer's McDonaldization model that fit the sandwich assembly line in Brody Square.
When I walked into Brody Square on Sunday, October 30, I had my mind set on making my own sandwich. This wasn't something I decided to do on a whim, but rather a carefully planned experience that was aimed at challenging the McDonaldized operations of this cafeteria. The sandwich station within Brody was one of the best places to test this phenomenon, since it is operated just like an assembly line; "by following the steps in a predesigned process," this system functions efficiently (Ritzer 13). While the dining halls at Michigan State are not the most McDonaldized food places that exist, but there are several other aspects of George Ritzer's McDonaldization model that fit the sandwich assembly line in Brody Square.
While there is a certain expected efficiency that comes from the assembly line set-up of the sandwich station, there is little calculability in terms of the ingredients used each time I order there. My usual order is made with a wheat wrap, and includes salami (since I am really bad at maintaining this whole vegetarian thing), provolone cheese, spinach, green bell pepper, banana pepper, cucumber, tomato, and Italian dressing. Sometimes, I will receive two slices of cheese, other times just one; the amount of meat varies with by cafeteria worker; and occasionally, I will have a lake of dressing formed on my plate when I finish eating, while other times my food is dry and lacking flavor. While it is hard to expect predictability in terms of the quantities that I get, the ingredients are always fairly predictable in terms of quality and flavor, which I value more highly than quantity alone. In terms of control, there are indeed "[l]ines, limited menus, and few options" in Brody cafeteria that you could find many McDonaldized settings (Ritzer 15). The customer has little control over how the sandwich itself is assembled, especially in comparison to something like a salad bar or nacho station. Keeping these things in mind as I went forward with this exercise, I found that I mostly challenged the aspects of efficiency and control in this process.
My interaction began with these words: "So, this is kind of weird, but I want to make my own sandwich." I went on to explain to the first worker that she could simply put the ingredients on my plate without actually having to assemble the sandwich. She smiled at me and simply said, "Okay," and began to plate the items I asked for. The whole time she did this, I felt incredibly uncomfortable. Although I didn't request that she do something extremely extraneous, it felt very awkward because it opposed the established way of doing things. Everyone else in line was ordering conventionally, which made me feel like I was standing out like a sore thumb; my roommate, who was in line after me, even laughed and said, "I actually want a sandwich," when it was her turn to order.
After I got my bread, meat, and cheese, I got down to the part of the line where they add vegetables and dressing. I had to re-explain my situation to the male cafeteria worker; he also smiled at the hilarity of the situation, but was very compliant with my wishes. By the time I was done asking for the items I wanted on my sandwich, my plate was looking far more like a salad than any sandwich I had gotten from the dining hall before. A deconstructed sandwich, if you please. My roommate and I found seats after we both got our food; I put my sandwich together myself.
After I got my bread, meat, and cheese, I got down to the part of the line where they add vegetables and dressing. I had to re-explain my situation to the male cafeteria worker; he also smiled at the hilarity of the situation, but was very compliant with my wishes. By the time I was done asking for the items I wanted on my sandwich, my plate was looking far more like a salad than any sandwich I had gotten from the dining hall before. A deconstructed sandwich, if you please. My roommate and I found seats after we both got our food; I put my sandwich together myself.
I would say that I felt more uncomfortable than the combination of the people I interacted with. After all, I was the one challenging the status quo. From this experiment it was easy to see how easy it is to simply fall into system like McDonaldization. The assembly line makes it quick and convenient for the consumer to receive their food with minimal physical effort. The sandwich station in Brody Square - unlike many other food places, where McDonaldization exploits people and resources - seemed far from problematic. My challenge this situation suggests that sometimes, McDonaldization just works; it doesn't always have to be bad. Now that it has become the norm, these processes are hard to break from - especially without feeling a bit like a rebel without a cause.
About the Author
Lindsay Mensch. Studying English at Michigan State University. Obsessed with Radiohead, cats, and carbohydrates.
Published in 2016.
Published in 2016.