Face the facts: Sodexo doesn't deliver

During finals week last semester, those of us lucky enough to scrape up a meal between cramming for finals and packing suitcases were treated to the welcomed surprise of $2 burritos from Salsa Rico. I ate those suckers two at a time, wood-chipper style. Every time I heard the familiar ting of "picosowcreeeam," my lips quivered in excitement. Had I not trusted Salsa Rico's unerring ability to satisfy, I would have assumed it was a "going out of business" sale.

However, as our humble little college blossomed into a university over the summer, Salsa Rico unapologetically closed its doors. For those of you new to campus, allow me to explain just what Salsa Rico was: Imagine chickens and cows roaming a placid farm somewhere, getting fat off milk and honey and massaged daily by gentle farmers before being carefully cut, grilled and doused in light spice. Now take that delicious meat and pair it with Enya-soft rice and beans fresh from God's backyard garden wrapped up in the warm embrace of a tortilla shell - it was that good.

Yes, we lost Salsa Rico, but Loyola Dining was due for a big change. Primo's meant well -- it really did -- but the same tired combinations had become stale. Boulder was an underwhelming mosaic of similar options, and the advent of Boar's Head had rendered Stacks and Rapz blasé. Some saw the end of Sodexo's contract last year as an opportunity to bring in a new company that could fulfill Loyola University's dining needs. Those hopes were swiftly kicked in the pants when the administration announced it had renewed Sodexo's contract through the next 10 years.

See, Sodexo is like an old girlfriend. We took her back because she promised to change, and, for some reason, we believed her. Maybe it was because we had unresolved feelings for her, or because we just weren't ready for change yet. But we took her back. For the first two weeks it was good - we saw familiar charms and appreciated her effort to change. Two weeks later, all those old nasty habits came back and we remembered why we dumped her in the first place.

New Primo's is certainly a changed girl. She's got some fancy jewelry, a nice coat of makeup and some cute new mannerisms. Now, instead of the pricy old policy of paying for individual dishes, patrons now pay by the meal -- $7.99 for lunch, $11.99 for dinner.

There's a new, even more economic payment plan too - "Power Plan," they call it - that offers 35 meals for $385 ($11 per meal) or 50 meals for $500 ($10 per meal). Hypothetically, let's say someone buys two meals a day (lunch and dinner) at New Primo's. All together, that'd equal a cost of $20 to $22 on the Power Plan. Oh, I feel the power already! Let's compare that to the regular meal plan: $8 for lunch and $12 for dinner comes to…

Let's not forget that the new plan is all you can eat. There are just a few catches - the portions are noticeably smaller, the food is of the same Stouffer's quality, and the hours of operation are shorter.

Are you catching on yet?

The whole "new dining experience" Primo's offers is a scam. We were promised improvement - not only in value, but in economy, too. Do not bat your eyelashes at me, Sodexo; it won't get you out of this one. Even though Loyola is an upper-crust private university populated (partially) by the children of wealthy parents, we do not have an unlimited supply of money to funnel into our accounts, especially not for high-school-cafeteria-quality food.

But wait. There is hope.

Last week, Boulder opened its doors, welcoming hoards of students eager to wash the taste of Primo's Alfredo sauce out of their mouths. The scene was elegant: W.O.W. fried and boxed wings to order; the outdoor grill was flippin' burgers for a reasonable price; and Salsa Rico had risen from the ashes, like a glorious phoenix of guacamole and sour cream, reincarnated as Moe's Mexican Grille - well worth the trip across campus. As for you Primo's, it's just not working out. Things are different between us. I think it's time we see other people.