The Breakfast Deficit

Normally, I confine my writing on this page to sophisticated and important topics, such as the Democratic Party’s own Benedict Arnold, otherwise known as Joseph Lieberman (20 percent of all my op-eds have focused on this topic). However, now that I am a second-semester senior and on my victory lap at Harvard, I feel liberated to opine on less serious topics. Thus, I pose this question: Where the heck did my hot breakfast go?

At this point, everyone is familiar with the raft of cost-saving measures the ever-so-wise college administration has implemented in order to slice a few million dollars out of what was apparently a bloated operating budget. These cuts come in the face of—and this is just ballpark, folks—about 10 billion lost dollars in our endowment (summary of the budget fiasco thus far: salaried administrators 1, wage-earning Harvard employees 0). Recently, the powers that be realized the silliness of their proposed changes in the shuttle schedules and repented. Why can’t they do the same for hot breakfast?

My argument is airtight. Since Harvard is still the wealthiest university out there, and many other universities undergoing similar budget crises can still afford hot breakfasts, there’s no reason why we shouldn’t offer them too. QED!

But, if my detailed economic analysis is not sufficient for you (sophists), then take the fact that I just really don’t like cereal. Soggy, generic, multicolored grain rings will never appeal to me. And while I don’t mind some wheat toast and a hardboiled egg, I’m not sure that will sustain my palate five days a week for an entire semester. What can I say—I’m from Maine, home to lumberjacks and lobstermen who know and promote the value of a big, heaping, hot breakfast to start off the day. And I thought Harvard was for the people!

I could keep going with other thoughtful and substantiated arguments concerning the breakfast question. What about the athletes? I can tell you that I spend at least 20 minutes a day on the “five” setting on the treadmill, and it makes my metabolism hum (yes, ladies). Or consider the “varsity” athletes. Can these finely tuned Division I machines really be expected to trudge to Annenberg every day just to get enough calories to survive? What about Steve, the Winthrop employee who used to man the grill every morning? He was a damn good hot breakfast chef and a really nice guy, especially to those hungry lettermen and women. Where is he now? For all I know, he might still be working for HUDS, but I think we can safely assume he’s not spending too much time concocting omelets.

So, I admit, there may not be too many reasons why hot breakfast is absolutely imperative to the lives of Harvard students. But that doesn’t mean it’s not important. I do find it strange that the school looks to scrimp in such small ways: cutting the breakfast shift, reducing the shuttle schedule, upping the cost on transcripts. Penny-wise, pound-foolish comes to mind.

Hopefully, the global economic crisis will resolve quickly, Harvard will invest in some bonds created from bundled life-insurance policies, and these impecunious days will fade into a distant memory. For now, the sweet aroma of pig fat draws me to the dining hall—thankfully, Harvard has enough sense to keep serving hot breakfasts on the weekends. But that just makes Mondays that much worse.


Robert G. King ’09-’10, a former Crimson associate editorial editor, is a history concentrator in Winthrop House.