Dining Services' dish headache continues Even after Midnight Breakfast's return, students leave Biette high and dry

Author: Brian Fung

Director of Dining Services Matthew Biette faces a tough uphill battle this spring as intransigent students and a rapidly tightening budget threaten to bring the College's worsening dish-theft problem to near-crisis proportions.

If the shortages persist into the spring semester, the College could see a repetition of 2003, when the problem became so severe that some students were forced to consume beverages out of bowls rather than mugs and glasses. Unless an overwhelming amount of missing items are returned to dining halls within the next several weeks, even the new dishes ordered this year by Dining Services as a stop-loss measure could disappear along with the old. Dining Services has already exhausted the nearly $43,000 in its annual budget earmarked for dish replacement, with new shipments being pressed immediately into service upon arrival.

"There are no more dishes," said Biette. "There is no more money to buy them - and until the budget year begins again on July 1, we won't be buying any more."

That the College has so rapidly drained its resources for dishes - before the beginning of the spring term, no less - is a worrisome problem for Biette, who predicts that students will blame him and his staff for withholding supplies when none exist.

But even as it continues to frustrate dining staff, the dish issue has received only a halfhearted response from students at best - surging briefly this fall when Biette threatened to serve nothing but cold doughnuts and coffee during the traditional exam-period Midnight Breakfast, only to slacken once more in mid-December after Biette relented in the face of student protest.

Beyond that episode, said Anne Willborn '10, few ever stop to consider that dish theft might still be a problem.

"It's just not in the forefront of people's minds," Willborn said. "It's definitely not as big a deal to students as it is to Dining Services."

While students at the College have never been entirely oblivious to the dishware issue, an independent response to it has historically come only as the result of a dire emergency. Student activism on Dining Services' behalf peaked in the 2003-2004 academic year, when the plastic cups then in use by the College began disappearing, virtually by the rack, until none remained.

In an effort to prevent further theft, Dining Services began introducing clear tumblers made of glass. At a cost of $1.11 each, the new glasses were nearly 30 percent more expensive than the plastic cups, but Biette hoped that their increased weight and limited size would deter students from removing them from the dining halls.

The measure ultimately failed to stem the tide of disappearances, however, prompting Ian Ausprey '04 - then the Student Government Association's (SGA) Director of Environmental Affairs - to propose a Dish Recovery System (DRS) in the fall of 2003 to help Dining Services curb dish loss. With additional financial support from four of the College's five residential commons, DRS promised to provide a student-based solution to the dining nightmare. Under the program, individuals returning to residence halls with dirty dishes could deposit used flatware in specially-designated collection bins that other students would take back to the dining halls weekly. The initiative called on Residential Assistants to enforce the plan and held them accountable for its continued operation.

Yet by December 2004 it was clear that, if anything, DRS had only encouraged students to take more dishes from the dining hall. DRS critics railed against the system, citing a sense of entitlement among some that assumed the collection bins filled with grimy plates and cups would somehow find their own way back to the dining halls.

"The responsibility factor has been diminished while the perception of enabling becomes more apparent," said Biette in an interview with The Middlebury Campus at the time.

The DRS experiment was discontinued in January 2005. But dishes continued to pile up in residence halls as though the bins had never been removed. Today, the problem remains as serious as ever. Proliferating glasses and bowls in a Hepburn Hall men's room earlier this academic year led one member of the custodial staff to pen a lengthy note in protest to her charges. The note, written in permanent marker on a poster-sized sheet of paper and tacked to a public bulletin board, assured Hepburn residents that while she was happy to do cleanup work, the staff member found the growing number of dishes in the bathrooms to be an unacceptable show of disrespect.

As students increasingly consider dining an integral part of the residential experience, however, their temptation to treat College dishes and utensils as they would their own living spaces has become near irresistible.

"The informality is nice, but students tend to take advantage of it," said Heather Pangle '10. "They think of [dining halls] as their kitchen. At home, you can take a bowl of food up to your room - and people think they can do the same here."

But they can't, said Biette. At least, if any supplies are to remain in public circulation. While Dining Services has considered resorting to disposable dishes and forgetting about dish theft altogether, such proposals have been rejected repeatedly by Biette himself because of environmental concerns. Still, Dining Services has occasionally brought out the paper and plastic this year, partly to shock students, but mainly in an effort to fill the gap left by vanished flatware.

The situation could see improvement if Biette became more aggressive, suggested Willborn.

"He shouldn't be afraid of trying harsher policies," she said.

Pangle disagreed, arguing that a tougher stance would only harden opposition against the administration.

"I don't know how Dining Services can do that without creating resentment," said Pangle.

Biette may already have started down that path when he delivered his November ultimatum on Midnight Breakfast. Some expressed discontent that they were being penalized for what seemed like the actions of a few packrats. Others seemed unsurprised by the threats after Dining Services' decision this past fall to serve fruit juice and granola only intermittently at meals. One Campus cartoonist lashed out at Biette, giving him sunglasses and a handgun and calling him "The Disherator."

Days after a lunchtime meeting with concerned students on Nov. 30, Biette abruptly rescinded his threats, announcing that hot foods would be served as usual at midnight during finals week. The decision ultimately puts Biette's future efforts to reclaim dishes at risk. Even as the exam period approached with no final word on the tradition's fate, some questioned whether Dining Services would follow through on its ultimatum. Skeptics were vindicated when Biette relented despite not having seen any improvement in the dish disappearance problem.

Exactly how much damage the retraction caused to Biette's reputation is still unclear. That students seem to have all but forgotten about dish theft suggests that Biette may have suffered a serious defeat. Asked if he had a contingency plan, or thoughts on how Dining Services should proceed after the Midnight Breakfast episode, Biette admitted, "I don't know."

With more dishes, glasses and utensils disappearing daily, and no end to the problem in sight, Biette pleaded for students to take the initiative.

"We live in reality," said Biette. "The economy is in the tank. With so many in the school studying economics and environmental studies, I find it crazy that a practical application of both needs be to taught from my real-life example."

But widespread student apathy at the College is a reality, as well. Attempts to involve students in the dish return process have been abject failures. Communitarian solutions like DRS eventually collapsed. Fines and incent
ives provided temporary relief, but quickly followed in the collection bins' footsteps. There is little indication now that students are any more willing to do their share. But that may change - and fast - if another extreme shortage, like the one seen more than four years ago, leaves diners with no choice but to cut their tofu steaks with spoons.