I know, I know. Let me explain.
I’m no stranger to Boston College’s dining problems. As a first-semester freshman, I found myself with an empty dining account by November. The service’s issues become obvious the moment you can only afford chicken and two sides. What isn’t obvious, however, is this:
Every college dining hall is bad.
No, seriously. Ask your parents. Your siblings. Your friends who transferred here. The quality—and the cost—of college dining hall services across the United States is overwhelmingly subpar. The main difference between BC’s system and most others is that BC is transparent enough to show you the price tags on your (comparatively cheap) meals. And frankly, some of those meals are pretty good. Don’t believe me? Here goes nothing.
The base on-campus BC dining plan costs $32 per day. Students who use meal deals can afford three meals a day with this plan, but for most, this covers two meals. The sum cost of this plan each semester is $3,300—yikes. In contrast, many other colleges’ dining plans include all-you-can-eat “swipes” that allow for greater portions. Importantly, though, these typically cost more than BC dining.
While BC’s base residential meal plan is $3,300 per semester, BU’s equivalent is $3,420. Georgetown’s? $3,680. Emory’s? $4,205. Northeastern’s? $4,300. Some schools, like Notre Dame and Harvard, do not disclose their up-to-date base meal plan cost structures on their websites. Still, based on public information, it appears BC has one of the lowest student dining costs of top U.S. private universities. Our system may look expensive at the register, but that’s because the “swipe” systems of other colleges hide the high costs of their own meals. BC, at least, gives you the honest cost of each item.
You might argue that, regardless of cost, BC dining still does not fulfill the needs of students who need larger portions than their dining bucks allow. In reality, though, the leftover dining bucks of others always make up the difference.
When we complain about BC dining, we talk about students who end up with no money in the last weeks of school. Yet—exclusively during BC Dining complaint sessions—we ignore the many students with leftover dining bucks. Thanks to these Eagles, the last few weeks of each semester are cathartic. Random people pay for others’ meals (it’s not that hard, just ask), gym-goers chug Core Powers along the paths from the Plex, and underclassmen swap stacks of oatmeal raisin cookies and Fritos in a bizarre kumbaya experience. It’s a nice break from finals season stress. When May comes along, I can’t be the only one who looks upon Lower’s vacant shelves with joy, can I?
On top of the entertainment each May, I would argue BC has some high-quality dining options. I don’t adore every entree, but there are a few great ones alongside memorable add-ons—the steak and cheese, the paninis, the Addie’s burritos, the cookies, the drinks, the snacks, the sticky rice, the breakfast potatoes, and plenty more.
As much as I sympathize with students who find strange things in their salads, these stories are anecdotal—and I’ve never personally had such an unforgivable experience. If you disagree, I encourage you to screenshot this column and post photos of your gross and/or criminal BC dining food while @ing me on your preferred social media.
On top of anecdotal quality concerns, I also concede that BC should do better for students with dietary restrictions. Many other college dining services face similar roadblocks.
One cannot discuss BC Dining without mentioning the workforce. I have not heard great things about the part-time student worker experience, but it’s hard not to like BC Dining’s policies for full-time staff. BC pays workers living wages with good benefits, including retirement accounts and opportunities for free tuition. The service also hires equitably, providing jobs to first-generation immigrants and the recently rehabilitated.
As fun as it is to roast BC, our dining services get too much hate for what they offer: a decent variety of (comparatively) affordable meals, a wholesome full-time workforce, and a fun last month of school.
To the disgruntled underclassman suffering from a low BC Dining balance, know that things could be worse. And, to BC Dining, I would happily accept a cash reward for defending your name.
