We deserve better food

While at Yale, I decided it was a worthwhile endeavor to attempt to spend less money. But as soon as I would cash my paycheck, a mysterious hole in my wallet sucked all the money out of sight. My financial aid officers, I noticed, had been kind enough to grant allowances for books, travel and "personal expenses." Yet the biggest consumer of my finances was the extra food I felt it necessary to buy--a necessity notably absent from mention by those doling out the funds. I therefore concluded that it was expected of me to survive merely upon the services provided. In theory, I could live a normal, happy, healthy life restricting myself to the limited intake of dining hall food. I decided to experiment: I would buy no other food than the University grub for which I'd already paid thousands of dollars.

I soon encountered various problems. The handful of pretzels I wanted to grab on my way out the door still sat in a bag at Store 24, unsold. When I craved a can of Diet Coke while reading, I instead forced down a glass of bathroom tap water. After eating dinner at five, a full 15 hours elapsed before I could again grace the dining halls with my presence.

The problem with our meal plan is the rigidity of the system. There's no way to space out only three opportunities to eat and not feel hungry. Even if one binges at every meal (a practice to which I'm not particularly partial), a satisfied constitution still can't be sustained for the extended periods of time between meals. Since Yale has assumed the responsibility of providing us with food, it should see to it that its services are sufficient to meet student needs. Logically, that should include the opportunity to eat when you're hungry.

Yale students shouldn't have to find jobs in order to have an adequate supply of food when the University already charges an arm and a leg to assume this responsibility. It's not as if students dine nightly at the Union League Cafe; often they simply pick up a frozen yogurt at Durfee's or a bag of Cheetos from Wawa. But a few dollars here and there soon add up to significant and even devastating totals. To a girl whose mother makes a ritual out of reminding her how ridiculously much an Ivy League education costs, every single penny counts.

Yet I fear this little experiment of mine must soon end. In the long run, the quality of life is more important than a few hundred dollars. In principle, however, this situation still seems flawed. Is it not possible for Yale to open up a section of the dining halls where all those who have the regular, non-Bursar, non-Flex dollars plan can congregate for a few snacks to tide us over? Is there really anyone who only eats three times a day?

Technically, following the YUDH rules, we have to leave all food in the dining halls. That leaves few options available for the hungry, besides showing up at introductory meetings that promise free Ashley's ice cream or grabbing a sandwich from the Wa. In the end, most just give up and shell out money from wallets that are already thin enough. After two weeks of food deprivation, you'll gobble up just about anything.