Humor reporters in the field: Deece meal swipes uncovered

Room draw for next semester is just around the corner. After frenzy of choosing the pre-reg classes with as little work as possible (I recommend North Korean History Through Interpretive Scarf Dancing) and trying to get a single, there is an even more daunting question looming over your future: What size meal plan is right for you? Desperate for vegetables that look like they may or may not be made of some kind of industrial rubber, and dishes so heavy in onions that you will ward off every Twilight fan within a 20 mile radius, we all happily hand over $14 every time we go to the Deece. Disturbed by being forced to eat in this building that, while on the outside is architecturally magnificent, is internally reminiscent of your dentists office or a sad Old Country Buffet, we decided it was time for knowledge. We sent in a team of experts to find out where our money is really going.

 

Claim: $3.78 of each meal swipe goes to purchasing cups

Want to know why this constant need for cups exists? Rebellious salad bar stockers. These daredevils are stealing cups and using them to play soy milk pong in the kitchens, which also conveniently explains the shortage of Vanilla Soy Milk. The investigative team also discovered that while the Deece is closed daily from 3:30 to 5:00, workers are not cleaning up the overzealous freshman boy who, in his hurry to fit the maximum number of Lucky Charms possible into his mouth, got a few thousand more soggy pots of gold on the floor than in the target. They are not preparing for the upcoming dinner rush, bringing with it a shortage of plates, chairs, and that mouthwatering chocolate cream pie that they never seem to have enough of if you come after 5:05 p.m. No, they are in the kitchen, practicing their wrist flicks and making sure to arc the ball (hard boiled egg) at exactly the right angle.

 

Claim: $0.97 goes to paying employees

Seems a little high, but I’ll let it slide.

 

Claim:  $1.19 goes to preparation of Curtis, The Latte Machine

What is the most necessary thing to have in a college dining hall at eight in the morning? Coffee. Even better, a creamy, steamy chai latte.  Or, for the less adventuresome, a French Vanilla latte.  And if you want to steer clear of caffeine, there’s always hot chocolate (although, let’s face it. You’re twenty years old.  It’s not the caffeine stunting your growth.  You’re just short.)  Now, when you think of these delightful and creamy breakfast beverages, what are they looking like? Are they clear, with the distinct taste and aroma of extraordinarily hot water? Probably not. In which case, we should probably up the dollar amount given to poor old Curtis, because that old boy is sure not producing the good stuff with what he’s got.

 

Claim:  $4.26 goes to purchasing locally grown produce

If by local, they mean the Walmart in Fishkill, then I can believe this one.

 

Claim:  $1.63 goes to tofu

This one may actually be true. I’m all for supporting people with all dietary oddities, like only eating Kale every third Wednesday, but that tofu is the one food that is reliably available for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. The main problem here is that it’s not even yummy tofu. No sautéed tofu, no fried tofu, not even some baked tofu. There are no adjectives before that tofu that involve anything to do with culinary skills. It’s just those squishy grey cubes that are marketed as “food”. According to the packaging, the recommended method to eating plain tofu is to shove it all in your mouth at once and swallow it as fast as possible, minimizing the number of taste buds it touches and giving you that fun, dangerous “I think I am about to choke” feeling!

Reallocation of Funds proposal:  Bacon.

 

Claim: Remaining money (sorry I can’t calculate that, I’m using my calculator to spell dirty words upside down right now) goes to buying an obscene amount of surprisingly delicious chocolate chip cookies.

Yeah, this one is absolutely true.

 

With this startling new information in mind, choose wisely when deciding which meal plan is the one for you. But if you inevitably make the wrong decision, fear not.  You can always sell your meals to the desperate senior who, after 3 bouts of self inflicted salmonella, figured out that cooking really isn’t for him. That tofu is looking really good to him right about now. As is literally any job opportunity.

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