Goodbyes Always Give Me Indigestion
To My Prince Charming, Sodexo,
We need to talk.
You were once the Sodex- to my o, and without you my ID will be left un-swiped. I miss your slow service and fast calorie intake, your slightly overcooked grilled cheese and undercooked cheeseburgers but mostly, I miss us.
After our almost 20-year relationship, I needed to express my feelings as publicly as possible. I want to let the world know of our once fiery, fully-cooked relationship and the raw scraps we hold on to today.
And even after The Odyssey wouldn’t even accept my proclamation of love, Buzzsaw finally allowed me to publish this PDA (Poetic Display of Affection). So here it goes:
20 years ago, your bright blue aprons caught my eye and I was hooked faster than I could swipe in to the old Campus Center booths. I’d look up you up online and be impressed by your worldwide service. I always saw my glasses of oddly thick chocolate milk as half full. I’d smile as I viewed the poorly washed leftover lipstick stain as your way of showing that you loved me too.
The honeymoon phase was everything a girl like me could hope for. I’d stop by late night for Cinnamon Swirl ice cream cones and go to Towers for some build-your-own sandwiches.
But as is true with all long-term relationships, the honeymoon phase ended like a slap in the face with a raw fish on my plate.
How could I trust you again after that week of food poisoning? After buying a premade sandwich that hadn’t been refrigerated correctly in the pub?
My Google search results for you changed as well. I saw you serving not just students, but cellmates. Instead of opening my eyes to a global food service, you locked up my heart with your for-profit industrial service to private prisons.
I began to see the stains on your not-so-blue aprons, and the stains you put on my heart.
I grew up, Sodexo. I learned what food outside the dining hall looks like and I don’t think I can ever come back.
And while I’m here, I have to tell you that I’ve been spending time with Gimme Coffee at the business school when I craved flavor and not-so-processed food.
I’m sorry it has to end this way. We had a good run, but now I need to move on. While you and your stale cereals have stayed the same, I’ve grown to learn of food outside of your prison cells. In order to go with my gut, I need to take care of it first.
It’s not you, it’s me. I know too much. I’ve been food poisoned too often.
Sarah Horbacewicz is a third year Television-Radio major who keeps a fry-grease stained hanky as a memento of her love. You can reach them at firstname.lastname@example.org.