BY MOLLY PIELS and MAIRIN ODLE

In print | March 20, 2008

It’s hard to beat Sharples for convenience: it’s close, it’s fast and you don’t have to wash the dishes. Compared to fending for yourself, it’s a pretty sweet deal. But alas, with familiarity comes contempt, or something like that. We understand that all the complaining is a feeble attempt to build interpersonal relationships, just like talking about the weather, or playing misery poker. But much like your mother used to remind you about all the starving children somewhere who would really like those Brussels sprouts (you ungrateful wretch), we suggest a tiny, tiny side dish of perspective. We’ll admit that after four years we don’t get jazz hands at the thought of appetizer bar. But if you’re into experiential learning, try a Scottish dining hall for months. After dealing with arcane juice regulations, mandatory servings of miscellaneous vegetables and arbitrary definitions of ‘dessert,’ Sharples is a paradise of fresh fruit, second helpings of pasta and burrito makings.

Technically, Sharples is all-you-can-eat. This means, just to review, all the food you can expect to consume over the course of the meal. Just because Sharples has something special, like Ben and Jerry’s ice cream or pluots, doesn’t turn “all-you-can-eat” into “all-you-might-eat-in-the-next-week.” These are special treats for everyone, and if you take more than Sharples thought each student would, you’re effectively taking someone else’s. And don’t think that we didn’t see you with five containers of Phish Food. Because we did, and we haven’t forgotten.

Silverware, cups, plates and salt shakers are not special treats, but it is still unacceptable to take more than you need. Specifically, whoever has taken all the salt shakers from Sharples needs to return them pronto. If you are doing tequila shots so often that it seems impossible to go without your own personal salt shaker, please seek help. Every time we get hash browns, we have to go on a mad hunt around the dining hall looking for salt and pepper, and it’s starting to get old. If you find yourself in the same situation, please remember to ask others nicely if you can use their salt shaker. The same goes for chairs. We promise they won’t say no, and it’s always better to ask than to appropriate.

Taking excessively is bad, but so is giving. It’s a small campus, germs spread quickly, and we can only assume that the popular practice of grabbing every apple in turn until the perfect apple is discovered contributes to this. Yes, some apples do have bad spots, but that’s why we have knives. Additionally, the Goldilocks-like practice of handling three hundred bowls until you find just the right one for your cereal needs to stop, please. Do not use your hands to grab cheese for your sandwich. Do not crawl under the sneeze guard to get your olives. That sneeze guard is all that stands between us and another round of the Garnet Plague, so desist.

What about “giving” your food, in projectile form, to a friend at a nearby table? Not OK. Not in elementary school, not ever. If you are indoors, someone will have to clean that up; since we have never seen a food fighter scrambling under the table to pick up any (let alone every) pea they have thrown, we will assume that that someone is not you. Given that no one has perfect aim, there are also likely to be innocent bystanders, or at the very least people are likely to have to change direction to avoid getting hit. Maybe that guy from math class enjoys fishing banana slices out of his pasta, but most likely he doesn’t, and experimenting is not, in this case, the best way to find out.

Speaking of elementary school, if we see you clapping when someone drops their plate, we will only assume that you never graduated from fourth grade. Unless you drop something, and then start clapping for yourself, and turn it into an elaborate bit of performance art, this behavior is rude. Even in the scenario above it’s still annoying.

Let’s say you did graduate fourth grade. In fact, your etiquette skills are so advanced that you’d like to ask someone to share a meal with you at Sharples. This is already tricky, but it gets trickier; at some point, one of the two of you will have an awkward decision to make: do you start to eat before the other person gets back, or wait? Starting can be risky, because then you may end up finished and itching for a cookie when your friend is only halfway through their Pad Thai.

At the same time, waiting can seem creepy and your perfectly constructed burrito can unwrap itself and get cold. Despite this, we’re fans of waiting; it can often be a good idea to invent an activity, like getting a cup of tea, or if you’re really concerned about food getting cold you could microwave it, to pass the time. Added bonus: you won’t have to suffer through the awkwardness of watching your dining partner make their way toward the table. In a group, of course, it’s absurd to wait for every single person, because you never know who is going to run in to their lab partner and need to tell them something really complicated. So go ahead and start, but eat slowly. Tell stories about the person who’s taking so long. But don’t get any ideas about taking extra servings of Ben and Jerry’s while you wait.

Molly and Mairin are seniors. You can reach them at mpiels1@swarthmore.edu and lodle1@swarthmore.edu.

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