Call me the Lucifer of the Ratty. Last year I cut every line, smuggled food out every visit, and once I found myself snatching the serving utensil at the chef’s corner out of someone’s hands before they had served themselves.
I never questioned the ethics of what I was doing last semester because…well, I was hungry. But this year I’m turning over a new leaf. Why? Last time I cut the student centipede, the two ladies at my back kindly reminded me that there was a long file of Brunonians behind me (awkwarddd). My heart must have grown three sizes that day, because later I was at the V-Dub and paused at the thought of taking the last two chicken parmesan cutlets.
But why should I feel guilty? I am the overlord of the omelet line, sultan of the salad bar—that chicken is mine! As I was doing laundry that night, a stranger accosted me in the basement, calling me “THAT GIRL WHO TOOK MY CHICKEN.” He broke me.
I don’t want to be that chick who took the chicken, and neither do you, so here are some guidelines for being polite in the cafeterias while still doing good by your tummy: