Amherst has one of the more unfortunate dining systems I've encountered. Valentine loses its all-you-can-eat appeal a month or so into freshman year, after you've figured out that the fro-yo machines aren't all that. By the end of your Amherst experience, you'll have consumed literally hundreds of Vals meals, at which point, no amount of fried dough or live klezmer will be able to excite your jaded taste buds. You'll have eaten enough egg whites to supply a meringue factory for years and enough genetically modified chicken breast to grow yourself an extra arm or two.
Dining options are limited to say the least. Kitchens are a big no-no because, of course, while Amherst admits some of the brightest kids in the country, it can't trust them to be able to use a microwave. So, it's midnight. You're starving. Antonio's is too far away. You've already parked your car. You would order but you remember that spring break is just six months away and you want to be able to fit into that J. Crew teeny bikini top. Your options boil down to a) Schwemm's, b) Schwemm's, c) Schwemm's and d) falling asleep to drown out the voice of hunger. So, night after night, you find yourself lined up at this dinky pseudo-deli-parading-as-a-gourmet-coffeehouse.
Yes, I'm aware of some of the vague resentment towards the evil Schwemm's monopoly. Our sins include selling melted cheese on a bagel for an outrageous $2.25-and is it just coincidence that Valentine doesn't allow cheese in its toasters, prohibiting the possibility of a DIY ch-tom (a cheese tomato bagel for those who have somehow avoided Schwemm's)?
This "monopoly" has put me into contact with a significant proportion of the Amherst student body, in all states of sanity and sobriety. Whether you're a California turkey groupie or you only make Thursday pre-gaming Red Bull runs, let me offer you a few pointers.
1) Avoid Schwemm's at all costs between 3 and 3:30 p.m. on weekdays. You missed lunch because you didn't want to brave the lines at Vals? I guarantee that at least 20 people have the same brilliant idea to catch lunch at Schwemm's after class.
2) Keep your paws out of the candy bins. I know that probably 80 percent of you wash your hands after you use the little girls' or boys' room, but I can't be sure. I once saw a to-remain-anonymous guy stick his hand in his crotch and then straight into the Swedish Fish. I don't know about you, but I want them to smell like yummy gummies, not like, well, real fish.
3) We close at 1 a.m. on Sunday and 2 a.m. every other day. That means the grill goes off an hour before closing and the fryer 30 minutes before. If I do not make a Philly cheese steak for you at 1:58 a.m., it does not mean I have a personal vendetta against you. It is because these pieces of equipment require extensive cleaning, and my manager and I would like to get home before the sun comes up.
4) I can see you if you walk out the back door with a messenger bag full of Sun Chips. I may not apprehend you, but please, practicing grand larceny at a snack bar is kind of pathetic. If you can't afford L'il Debbie's oatmeal cookies-which retail for about $1.29-I can't help you.
5) We don't give change, in quarter or dollar bill form. Yes, I realize the change machine gives about as much play as a bed-ridden senior citizen, and yes, I do want you to have clean clothing, but we don't have enough to go around for everyone's Sunday night laundry frenzy.
6) Contrary to popular belief, we do not have access to some limitless Schwemm's buffet. We pay for things.
7) The name "Schwemm's Gourmet Coffee House" is a lie. We are not a coffee house. I have never seen Mr. or Mrs. Schwemm. We are "gourmet," but only in relation to the dishwater that Vals calls "French Roast."
8) After a date with Mary Jane, have some game plan when you walk in. I'll wait, but people behind you might not be so patient. They might also disagree that the constant revisiting of "Zoolander" is so hilarious.
Another one of our "sins" appears to be dubious customer service. You upperclassmen might remember from a couple of years ago a barrage of threads about those "psycho Schwemm's bitches" on our favorite forum for frank, public discussion, The Daily Jolt. I will admit that some of us were more abrasive than needed. Some of us were outright rude at times. I apologize for all of those instances, but I do so with a grain of salt.
Much like working at Valentine, putting a student behind a counter and then having that student interact with other students in a food service-type environment creates a possibly awkward social situation. All of a sudden, that wall of baked goods seems to confuse interactions. Technically, I'm in a position of serving my peers, so how should you treat me? Like a barista at Starbucks? Do you tip me (incidentally, we don't accept tips)? Do you treat me like you would if we were in class?
Most of the time I'm treated like a peer. Economic transactions become pleasant, social connections, with a little chatting on the side. But once in a while, someone is so spectacularly rude that I'm amazed. I've heard "bitch, hurry up" muttered under someone's breath. I've had people throw coins at me, growling, "Is that enough? What, you want more?" I've seen people demand things that are not on the menu and then get royally pissed when they learn they can't have it. Granted, a lot of these people are drunk when they act this way, but being shit-faced is no excuse for giving shit to others.
Some people might ask: "So, why don't you just get another job?" The answer is because for every one rude person, there are 10 friendly ones who far outweigh the negative associations. Because I'd rather interact with people over food than over a thesis loan. Because even though I smell suspiciously like a quarter-pounder after a few hours, I enjoy it. Because after three years, I've become quite attached to the place and the people I've met and meet there. I just ask that you be a little more considerate of Schwemm's employees, all employees and everyone in customer service. Everyone deserves a minimum of courtesy. If it's almost 2 a.m., cut me a little slack. Like you, I've probably had a long day and my fuse might be a little frayed. So, come on in. Ask for a little TLC on your BLT or a special sandwich. I'll see what I can do.