While you were munching on your Harold Burgers in Food Court this fall, I'd wager you were unaware that quietly but staunchly, a war was raging under your nose, a food fight of the cleanest kind. On the bulletin board behind the Food Court trays, Jake O'Shea '97 has been staging a comment card campaign in valiant defense of that which has been described by another as "your friend" and "the thing that comforts you when your girlfriend dumps you." Naturally only one thing could leap to mind. That's right, the old fries.
Jake's efforts might have gone unnoticed had it not been for his remarkable persistence. "I'm determined to put up one comment card per visit to Food Court in hopes that justice will prevail," he stated on one card. As I noticed during my research, he goes to Food Court often. Sadly, Jake's efforts in one respect have been fruitless. It looks as if the new grease sponges are here to stay. But in another way, he was totally successful -- I laughed my head off!
I set out today to figure out just what purpose comment cards serve. So I used the skills acquired from years of science fair projects to put together the perfectly unscientific blitzmail poll. Gathering wisdom from myself and a dozen of my funniest friends, I present to you my findings.
It looks like our comments don't really make a difference in the grand scheme of Dartmouth Dining Service, judging from my own campaigns for "fakin' bacon bits" on the salad bar (which didn't appear until six months later) and the annihilation of banana frozen yogurt.
But here's what your peers have to say:
Liz Stambler '99 brought up a good point. "How could they make a difference?" she said. "Now you have to go into Lone Pine which is a) down a flight of stairs, b) dark even at noon on a sunny day and c) invariably empty, just to get a decent sandwich. No one wanted this. People wrote lots of comment cards. I'm sure the DDS gods are using them as toilet paper." It's a thought.
Jon Feldman '97 had results similar to mine. "I wrote a card saying if they took away the entrees from Lone Pine I'd have their first born." You have to wonder how the baby-sitting is going.
So if comment cards are just about guaranteed to make no difference, why write them? Despite my friend Phil's answer that the card posters "have no lives or their mothers work for Dining Services," I think the answer is even simpler. They're funny! Over the past few weeks, I've read about the virtues of "dipping" a Buffalo Chicken Sandwich as opposed to "squirting" it, seen chicken fingers called "the staple of Dartmouth life," and examined a formal mathematical calculation that supposedly proved that the new pizzas cost more than the old. What a wonderful humor outlet!
And yes, if DDS would ever pay attention to them, comment cards do occasionally bring up a valid point or two. I did a bit of research into my claim that NO ONE likes banana frozen yogurt. The DDS manager replied that indeed he likes it and he is someone. Well sir, my survey indicates that indeed an average of one out of twelve people agrees with you. Ten others used words such as "inedible" and "one step above banana pudding," which I suppose the DDS manager also likes. (To keep my numbers correct, the final respondent who was asked about banana fro yo responded with, "What? Are you baked?"
As for the fries, I found my slice of the Dartmouth community is split on the issue. While Schuyler Hedstrom '99 found them simply "another shade of greasy," Erica Rivinoja '99 had a more definite stance. "The new ones taste too much like home," she quipped, "mostly because I lived in a big burnt greasy potato."
While still laughing, I decided to return to the source, Mr. O'Shea, who summed up his efforts eloquently: "My requests for old fries are an attempt to point out one of the many ridiculous changes in DDS these days. What was wrong with the old fries? Nothing."
Having explored the seemingly non-utilitarian and comical aspects of comment cards, I have to congratulate DDS on covering their bulletin boards with something vastly more interesting than posters about the four food groups. Armed with my newfound knowledge, tomorrow I will embark on my mission to become the Food Court disc jockey. Wish me luck.
