Poor Harvest: A Shady Dealer Investigative Report

By Alex Foster

May 13, 2014

Every day, millions of students enter Cathey Dining Commons eager to once more satisfy their insatiable yearnings for oil and Chicken Nugget Parmesan. And day after day, the dining hall returns smiling faces. Yet, we all know something fishy has been going on, and this time it’s more than Salmon in Puff Pastry. For months, the vegetarian “Harvest” station has been suspiciously under-served. At any given time, dozens of starving vegans beg for service from their stagnant line, yet the serving spoons face inwards and the station attendant is nowhere to be found.

“I’m just so hungry,” one waiting vegan told The Dealer. She looked frail and tired, as did the infant son in her arms. Where is the Harvest station attendant? The Dealer sent our best correspondent undercover, disguised as a stalk of kale, and he unearthed a plot thicker than any machine-dispensed soy milk.

Our correspondent was “planted” on a dirty plate and sent into the kitchen. Shocking footage from his hidden camera shows him being scraped off the plate into a baggie along with other chopped, leafy vegetables by none other than the missing Harvest station attendant.

“At zis point, I feared for my life,” our correspondent recounts, “Right zere… zitting in a baggie… disguised as a kale. But zee lady could not tell and walked away.” When the rogue attendant returned, she wore a black “UChicaBro” hoodie sweatshirt. She stashed the vegetable bundle (with our undercover correspondent) in her pocket, and exited the dining hall, walking right past the line of her vegan victims, and even leaving with a cup of hot chocolate. She did not give a fuck.

Fifteen minutes later, the baggie was pulled from the attendant’s pocket into the light of 61st Street, where she faced a gang of lanky first-years. “You got the stuff?” said their leader. His bloodshot eyes were barely visible behind half-transitioned Transitions lenses. The Harvest station attendant replied in affirmation.

The transaction proceeded smoothly – clearly not the first in which these parties had participated – until suddenly one of the first years exclaimed, “There’s a man in that doja!”

Our brave correspondent tells, “I jumped out of zee baggie, tore off my disguise, and proclaimed, ‘YES, I AM NOT A KALE!’”

The attendant fled. She sprinted through the Law School yard, but her surprisingly healthy customers chased her past South Campus. Just as she was rounding the corner to disappear from the pursuing gang, she froze – she’d reached the border to the Ellis Street “ice cream” truck driver’s turf. Our correspondent then jumped out of a tree and caught her.

The the tale of the now infamous “Harvest sStation Pusher” has since spread to most corners of campus. With a replacement veggie slinger, campus vegans will finally receive the service they deserve. And Vitamin K deficiencies on campus have increased to normal levels.

Harvest has come upon UChicago, for now. But remember: things aren’t always as they seem. You never know when you might find kale in your weed – or a man in your kale.