Addie Geitner ’21 Hustle and Bustle Editor
I am not a salad girl. My two-year stint as a pescatarian ended with no shame and very few finished salads to my name. Still, on the rare occasion that I stray from the literal letter of the Lord’s word and suppress the craving for my daily bread, I will slump over to take a peek at the “Improvisations” bar.
By the time I am out of my chair, I have accepted my fate. I will grab some cucumber, a few pepper slices, maybe some baby tomatoes. I will dribble a light glaze of ranch over them before choosing to be honest with myself and pouring a generous puddle over a quarter of my plate. I will walk back with the words of Carol King assuring me of my beauty and hope everyone is taking note of the fact that I was just at the salad bar; I eat salads.
If only it were that easy.
At this point I should be feeling good. I have done the work. I let everyone at my table know that I am going to eat a salad. I even followed through and got up from my seat. At this point who cares if I really eat the salad. I have taken a majority of the steps one must take to be recognized as a salad eater.
But now I must prepare the salad.
I can stand the line. I can stand the students piling their plates with iceberg lettuce even though it has no nutritional benefit, knowing that I am not much better. I can stand the cutters who “just want soup.” I cannot stand the tongs.
I understand why iceberg lettuce is popular.
Those tongs are wide mouthed, forgiving. You can go in and out in seconds with minimal embarrassment. It is that easy.
Not the veggie tongs.
They just don’t work. Their teeth resemble those of a suckling baby bat who can barely pull his lips apart to nibble at the thumb of the National Geographic spokesperson caressing it. Just as gross, but not as cute.
It would be nice enough to grab a few carrot slices at a time, but five tries out of seven I can’t even grab one. The baby tomatoes are a lost cause. I usually give up and drop the tongs with an audible huff or go right in with my fingers if I am alone.
I don’t feel inspired. I don’t feel supported. The already difficult task of eating a salad is made nearly impossible by the even more difficult task of preparing it. As it is, I have my fair share of complications with the sneeze guard alone. There is simply no need to make the humble plea for a pepper any more onerous.
I believe all things, with few exceptions (mosquitoes and skim milk), have a purpose, but not these tongs. This makes the question of removing them all the more difficult. They will not serve anyone else any better than they served this community, so what should come of them? Return them? That eats up a lot of resources. Hang them as decoration? That is getting somewhere. Present them to manufacturers as an example of what not to do? Maybe.
While their removal is not a sure sentence, it surely would not hurt. With the new year under way and resolutions set, there is no doubt that the line for salads will only become longer and more congested. The beginning of a new year is a time for positive change. Why not start this new year, this new decade, off right? Why not get new tongs?