TL;DR: Your DoorDash Subway delivery order helps us reach customers we’d never find otherwise. But those commission fees? They hit harder than Utah wind ripping your car door off while you’re jumping out to fill up at Maverick.
Look, I need to confess something.
Every time you order Subway delivery through DoorDash, two things happen simultaneously:
- I’m genuinely grateful you found us.
- I watch 30% of that order evaporate like my sanity during a Davis High post-football-game rush at 9 PM.
And I can’t decide which feeling is winning.
Welcome to the beautiful nightmare of running a restaurant in 2025.
Today’s Confessions:
The Part Where I Admit We Need DoorDash Subway Delivery
Without DoorDash, half the people in Kaysville wouldn’t know we exist.
People scrolling their phones at 9:47 PM in questionable pajamas. People who just moved here from California, Googling “sandwich near me” while unpacking boxes and questioning every life choice that brought them to Utah in January. People who live off Main Street in that weird dead zone where nobody delivers anything except regret.
DoorDash finds them for us.
We don’t have billboard money. We’re not filming Super Bowl commercials. We’re a local Kaysville Subway trying to survive the chaos without accidentally putting pickles on someone’s cookie order because we’re moving too fast and reality has become a blur.
So yeah. DoorDash Subway delivery apps bring us customers we’d never reach otherwise.
DoorDash handles the drivers. The routes. The “sorry I’m running late” texts. We just make your sandwich, hand it to a Dasher, and pray to the sandwich gods it arrives warm.
That’s worth something.
DashPass customers—the people paying DoorDash’s monthly subscription—order more often and spend more per order. Sometimes they find us through the app and become regulars who order direct from our website.
That’s the dream scenario right there.
But here’s where the DoorDash Subway delivery business model gets complicated.
The Truth About DoorDash Subway Delivery Commission Fees
DoorDash takes 15% to 30% commission on every single order.
Thirty percent.
Let that sink in like marinara sauce on a white shirt.
If someone orders a $20 Subway delivery combo through the app, we’re paying up to $6 just for existing on their platform. That’s before payment processing fees. That’s just the cost of being visible.
You’re probably thinking: “Just raise your prices on the app.”
Smart. We did that.
Except here’s the math that haunts me at 2 AM.
If we sell a sandwich for $10 in-store but list it for $13 on DoorDash to cover commission, they take 30% of the $13. Not the $10.
So we make $9.10 instead of $10.
We’re losing money AND looking overpriced to customers who think we’re charging downtown Salt Lake prices for turkey on wheat.
According to Restaurant Dive, these commission structures hit restaurants nationwide. We’re not the only ones getting squeezed by the DoorDash Subway delivery fee model.
Then there’s the visibility game.
Pick the cheaper 15% plan? DoorDash buries your Subway delivery listing so deep that customers would have better luck finding their car keys from 2019.
Want actual visibility?
Pay the 30%.
Want TOP placement?
Pay extra for sponsored listings on top of that.
At some point you realize you’re not running a partnership. You’re paying rent on someone else’s digital storefront while they decide if people get to see you.
Why We Can’t Quit DoorDash Subway Delivery
Because customers expect Subway delivery now.
If you’re not on DoorDash, Uber Eats, or Grubhub, you might as well hang a sign that says “We peaked in 2004 and we’re very committed to that energy.”
During the pandemic, third-party delivery became infrastructure. Not optional. Infrastructure.
People don’t want to call restaurants anymore. They don’t want to check our hours. They want to tap a button while binge-watching murder documentaries and have food materialize at their door.
I get it. I’ve done it. We all have.
But it created this dependency where restaurants need these apps to survive, even though the apps are slowly draining our profit margins like a very friendly vampire who always says “thank you” while biting your neck.
We’re stuck dating someone who’s great except they steal $6 from our wallet every time we go out.
The Part Where I Ask For Help (Politely)
Here’s what I’ve learned after years of navigating the DoorDash Subway delivery ecosystem:
DoorDash is a tool. Not a savior. Not a villain. A tool.
It introduces us to customers we’d never find otherwise. But we can’t survive on DoorDash Subway delivery commissions alone because those fees add up to the cost of a used Honda Civic.
So we treat DoorDash like a first date.
It introduces us. We try to impress you. We make your sandwich exactly right and hope it arrives that way.
But then we work hard to convert you into someone who orders direct—through our online ordering, by calling us, or (revolutionary concept) by walking into our actual store on Main Street.
Because every direct order means we keep 100% of what we earn.
And in the restaurant business, that margin is the difference between paying rent and writing a very sad Craigslist post titled “Slightly Used Sandwich Equipment, Must Sell, Don’t Ask Why.”
If you’ve ever ordered Subway delivery through DoorDash: thank you.
Genuinely. You helped us reach someone new.
But if you want to help your local Kaysville restaurants survive? If you want to make sure we’re still here in five years making your sandwich exactly how you like it?
Order direct next time.
We’ll still get your food to you. Probably faster. And we’ll actually be able to afford to keep the lights on.
The Part Where I Rant About Tape
Why does every roll of tape ship from the factory with the end already missing? You’re standing there holding it up to the light like some archaeologist examining ancient pottery, scratching at it with your fingernail, muttering words that would get you banned from church. And when you finally find the edge, you sacrifice three inches just to fix the jagged disaster you created. Someone at the tape factory is doing this on purpose. That person is on a yacht right now, funded entirely by our wasted tape and broken spirits.
