The New York Times reported that students from Columbia University stole $5,000 in Nutella over just one week in March 2013. At Duke, swiping goods with the aid of hidden containers is so prevalent that USA Today termed it “tupping.”
Here at University of Oregon, where 4500 Ducks eat an average of 10,000 meals a day, it’s hard to believe that food, utensils and an assortment of dining hall inventory don’t disappear regularly.
It’s an established rumor that UO Housing and Dining responds by padding meal plan rates — by $50, one student speculated. That means charging every diner up front, even though they may not steal. If that were true, it’d be a problem, an unfair penalty given the fiscal burden meal plans already pose.
I’m here to set the record straight: That’s not the problem.
When I asked the director of dining services, Tom Driscoll, about a theft budget, he told me it was the first he’d ever heard of it. Dining hall petty theft, “isn’t a major issue,” he said. “People steal stuff, and when we catch them, we call UOPD,” which happens four to six times in a typical year.
Let’s not deny that Ducks are just as ingenious as students at Columbia or Duke. Inevitably, some swiping goes uncaught. Like with any business, Dining must consider theft when calculating the cost of products. It’s just not done directly.
Meal plan rates are partially determined by how much food and supplies (utensils, cups, condiment bottles etc.) Dining has to reorder every year. Almost all reordering is due to natural causes: “Staff dropping things, things getting broken. Things just wear out,” Driscoll said.
Some reordering is due to theft, but there is no system in place to track the quantity of items stolen; Driscoll said theft rates are so low there’s no need. That means the theft-related cost added to meal plans is incalculable and “insignificant,” Driscoll said.
Because UO Housing is not-for-profit, any end-of-term budget surplus goes right back to students. Extra money upgrades big projects, like next year’s plans to renovate Bean Hall, Driscoll said. He added that some surplus goes into reserve for “unforeseen expenses like a broken pipe or a leaky roof.”
To get back to the record-straightening, the problem isn’t administration imposing unfair charges, wasting money or allowing rampant dining hall thievery. The real problem is believing that to be true and letting it influence our actions.
For some students, dining hall pilfering is an unofficial tradition. It’s a sport where the prize is spice to an otherwise droll meal, Twitter-worthy stories and shared amusement.
But for another portion of students—albeit a minority—the decision to steal comes from the belief that they’re entitled. Isn’t it right that we steal our fair share if administration charges us for crimes we may not commit? Or if they blatantly overcharge for meal plans? Or if everyone we know is doing it?
Even if those things were true, the answer would still be tentative at best. I know it’s prudish, but petty theft is still theft.
The true solution for the imaginary theft-charge problem is this: Don’t steal. Don’t justify theft with high prices when all the money goes to you. Be honest, be mature and leave the ketchup bottle, well-worn spoon and extra cookie where they belong.