Mac Sandwich Bar
Score: 3 / 5
HUMOUR—Mac’s sandwich bar is straight up weird. You have to actually talk to the people making your food. I’m so used to staring at my phone, human interaction makes me question every life decision I’ve made up till this point. When it’s 3 p.m. on a Wednesday and I haven’t had lunch yet (true story) the last thing I need is a hundred questions about my sandwich preferences.* If I could eat a pesto pollo focaccia every day I would, but my friends say it’s not socially acceptable. They’re also worried about how little I speak and how much I text.
At Mac’s they ask you things like, “What type of bread?” Excuse me, I want a wrap. Then it’s, “mayo, mustard, Dijon mustard, grainy Dijon mustard, BBQ sauce, or hummus?” and then I start pondering what type of mustard would Beyoncé pick, because ever since she dropped her new album I started basing my life around hers. From there, the sandwich ladies demand to know what protein I prefer. I usually go with roast beef. I decided it’s the classiest of cold cuts. (Also, why don’t any men make sandwiches at Mac’s? Beyoncé wouldn’t approve.)
For some strange reason, this place offers a thousand variations on sauces and bread, but only two cheeses. What gives, UVic?
This seems like the homestretch, but nope, no it is not. “Three vegetables?” I totally judge others in line on their vegetable choices. Red onion basically projects you don’t want to be kissed. Raw mushrooms signify a complete disregard for flavor. Lettuce means you’re boring.
All the sandwiches are packaged in this super fancy parchment, which I swear I saw a fine arts student wearing as a tunic last week.
Also, these sandwiches cost less than $6. It’s a pretty good deal!
*Kaitlyn orders a whole wheat wrap; mayo and Dijon mustard; spread of hummus; roast beef; sprouts, pickle, cucumber, and sometimes carrot if she’s feeling fancy; salt and pepper.
