During my hunt for the Shadow Caf, I have become aware of several disconcerting changes to the Caf. While my math skills are less than satisfactory (as exemplified in my quantitative GRE score), I do know that two negatives often make a positive. In this case, however, the Caf has reached an all-time low.
I knew that groundbreaking shakeups had occurred in the Caf when I slouched up there one morning to see a man in a suit talking and gesticulating vigorously about how the place should be run–usually, Caf employees exhibit a more resigned air. When this scene repeated itself for every meal I partook in, a bizarre hope flared within me. At first glance, it appeared that the Caf’s echoing worlds–the Shadow Caf and its regular counterpart–were converging. That same night, I feasted on a pasta dish with actual red pepper flakes. In my gluttonous haze, I forgot to take its picture.
But then, the convergence seemed to take its toll on our Caf. Mundane items winked out of existence: late breakfasts and afternoon lunches, for example. Meanwhile, other items, such as clocks, appeared in their place.
Bemused, I wandered around the Caf, snapping photos of the occurrences in broad daylight until I felt the gaze of the Caf drones on me.
“What are you taking pictures for?” one asked.
“Oh–I, uh,” I said, panicking, “I’ve just never noticed that clock before.”
“Oh, all right. We thought there was something wrong.”
I laughed blandly, my nerves singing a song shriller than a dog whistle.
The weeks progressing, the Caf continued to slide into its temporal whirlpool. When yogurt, oatmeal, milk, and peanut butter vanished, I grew hungry and ill-tempered. When the serving areas were evacuated during my normal eating times, I grew furious.
Allow me to suspend all satire for a minute while I wax political about the direction in which the Caf is headed.
I fully understand the new Administration’s desire to make sweeping changes on this campus–but apparently, some of these changes have manifested themselves in the dismissal of employees integral to the college’s day-to-day activities. For example: one of the organizations I am involved in is scheduled to meet this evening at half past six. Due to the changes in campus management, we have yet to receive confirmation about a meeting place.
As far as the Caf goes, it is simple enough to remove its leadership and dismiss the issue as a job well done. The problem, however, goes far beyond those who work there. In essence, the quality (or lack thereof) of the food served is abysmal. Take, for example, the “Grilled Turkey Reuben Wrap” on the menu for tonight. Turkey, a “safe” white meat, is often a go-to item for those looking to monitor their caloric intake. Indulging in one of these wraps, however, will set you back 2,100 milligrams of sodium. A couple of ribs, meanwhile, will give you close to your allotted daily intake of saturated fat. With nutritional values like these, the conclusion is that the Caf is dishing out fast food under the guise of home-cooked meals. I am, in other words, not surprised that the Caf often neglects to post nutritional information during meal times. Meanwhile, its “Fresh & Healthy” section online rings with irony.
There is also the issue of convenience. During my days as a Hilltopper, displaying the Caf in a positive light often included mentioning that “From 7:00 AM to 7:00 PM, you will be able to eat what you want, when you want it. WHO CAN BEAT THAT?” The quote is taken from CampusDish, the Caf’s official web site, and the claim is more than an exaggeration. My class schedule (and Caf experience) has led me to avoid the most congested meal periods in favor of grabbing breakfast, lunch, and dinner before lectures and meetings. Up until quite recently, this strategy worked flawlessly: I would grab whatever leftovers were still being offered. Today, at 1:20 PM–with twenty minutes to go until the next class period–the serving areas had been cleared and cleaned. I am sure that tomorrow, before my 9:40 class, there will be no breakfast items left, even though several students have their first class of the day at that time.
Rectifying the latter issue would be as simple as leaving the food out for thirty more minutes. The former, however, requires a major investment.
In my opinion, I seem to be attending (and soon, graduating from) the college during a time when a host of problems are being addressed: we need a new science building. We need a new gym. We need to renovate Henry, provide free international travel for all students, and to raise enrollment. Moreover, we need to make sure that those students remain on campus for four years–retain them. Then again, this may be business as usual at the college, for all I know. I firmly believe, however, that giving the students a place to eat–eat well–and socialize is a step in the right direction. It will in no way cause students to flock to the school–after all, I have yet to hear of a campus at which the dining hall is the major draw–but it would, at the very least, fix a problem that has been overlooked.
I am unable to attend the President’s Q&A session Tuesday evening, so instead, I will leave this entry right here, a kind of haughty manifesto. If my claims seem unreasonable, then I ask you to please bring back the fruit and peanut butter for six more months–until my graduation. While we’re at it, some bacon chili cheeseburgers now and then wouldn’t hurt, either.
