The Leo J. O’Donovan Dining Hall is many things to many people. It is a study spot, a breeding ground for awkward situations, a prime observation point for Like A Little posts, and a veritable feast of subpar foods. Regardless of how students view Leo’s, it is one of the most familiar places on campus.
Yet in the past three years our dining hall has been through many changes, from the removal of norovirus-inducing Grab’n’Go to the addition of a salad and wrap station. The most noticeable and most discomfiting change to Leo’s has been this year’s crackdown on students’ ability to serve themselves. Students have been yelled at for letting the vegetarian curry serving spoon come near the meat lasagna on their plates, for bringing a plate they have already used to get a second serving, or for delicately picking up a lone cookie or garlic roll without using tongs.
I won’t defend these practices as the most hygienic, and I am guilty of committing all of them on a number of occasions. But unassuming meat-eaters can’t be expected to be overly careful in keeping vegan utensils “uncontaminated.” There’s nothing wrong with conserving water by re-using dishes if they don’t get particularly dirty in the first round of food. And if I have the dexterity in my fingers to grab a cookie without touching the others, why do I need to use tongs?
There is a reasonable explanation for why an ordinary student would not think twice about the actions so frowned upon by Leo’s employees. Yet we are constantly reprimanded by the new, seemingly permanent “food police” standing behind the serving trays to watch us meticulously as we serve ourselves. They are not wont to give friendly reminders, instead taking a tone that suggests that we know these unwritten rules by heart and are blatantly disobeying them.
I don’t know when these food-serving rules became institutionalized, but when they did no one bothered to inform the students. Surely if these rules were publicized on the Georgetown Dining website, posted at the entrance to the dining hall, or sent out in a mass email to the students, there would be greater acquiescence. Instead, there is only scolding by watchful employees whose reproaches makes us feel like infants.
We pay a too egregious rate for meal plans to be reprimanded as we shovel bulk-preparation food onto our plates. If these regulations are to promote greater hygiene in the dining hall, I am of course supportive. But hygiene has never seemed like a priority at Leo’s. During cold season I watched an employee cough, mouth open and uncovered, while preparing salads. In my sophomore year, I found a metal washer in my fried rice. Employees frequently scoop fallen vegetables off the counter near the food trays and place them back in the tray.
It seems as if Leo’s is attempting to shift the blame of its reputation for inadequacy to the students. By placing an employee behind each food service line to point out when students are not practicing perfectly sterile food service practices, Leo’s is creating a façade of cleanliness while continuing damgerous practices such as allowing sick employees to work and replacing foods that have fallen from their tray.
I have no personal issue with the employees who do the policing. I know they are simply doing their jobs. But you have to wonder whose idea this was. Was it the brainchild of the pajama-pants wearing chef I always see wandering around at lunch? Perhaps the concoction of the female manager who is overly fond of sweater vests? Or just a suit-wearing exec in a cushy Aramark office somewhere, straining the usually friendly relationship between students and employees?
I’m not implying that Leo’s should allow students to grab food with their hands and dip the vegan broccoli spoon into a vat of beef chili. But if Leo’s is serious about hygiene, they need to change some of their own practices before they expect students to change theirs. If not, it’s only a matter of time before rebellion in the form of a floor-wide food fight incites a revolution within the world of Leo’s.
