Yes, the food here is that bad.
Last week, all I wanted was some grilled chicken for my salad. Whatever they serve there, I can assure you, is not grilled chicken. It actually legitimately seems to be made out of rubber. I’m pretty sure you could throw that chicken on the floor and have it bounce back to you.
Honestly, if that’s the best they can do, could they at the very least provide us with steak knifes to cut through that impenetrable chicken?
Or are college students still classified under that not-old-enough-to-be-given-sharp-objects category like in elementary school with the plastic scissors that don’t cut a damn thing?
There actually appeared to be some sort of appetizing-looking ravioli a few days ago. But upon taking one bite, I noticed it was filled with a bacon flavor. Is pasta meant to have bacon in it? I’m sorry, but that is absolutely repulsive. The worst part of it is that it wasn’t even listed on the nutrition facts.
So that leaves one to wonder, what else is being thrown into our food that we don’t know about? This school does that with almost every food item here. They feel the need to throw in some sketchy ingredient that makes the whole thing taste like a horrible recipe gone wrong.
As far as I am concerned, the only time a bacon-flavored sauce should be used is when you’re trying to feed your dog.
The next day, I walk into the caf and pick up a half-clean plate. I then inspect the silverware to see food stains clumped along the ridges (gag me).
I head over to the breakfast bins and peer into them only to see that most of them are empty. The kind of empty that never gets refilled because, just like with the number of tables in the cafeteria, this school conveniently underestimates how many students go here.
Any bins that are remotely populated contain food kept a good 30 or so degrees below their expected temperature. Waffle makers are broken, what a surprise.
Cereal labels are mixmatched. A Lucky Charms sticker covers a flaky looking cereal – well, what is it? Is it Frosted Flakes? Is it Corn Flakes, Special K? Because it sure as hell isn’t Lucky Charms! What if someone happened to be a diabetic? How hard is it to specify the contents of something accurately?
Well maybe I’ll be safe with just a drink. Naturally, the machine is out of milk. It takes me eight tries of examining cups and noticing debris, interior fingerprints, some sort of random crustacean accumulating around the lid before I walk out on an empty stomach.
Screw it, who wants take out?
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