My grandmother and I were on the floor, our legs stretched out where the coffee table should go. I was happy because she rolled a six. Rolling a six meant landing on Boardwalk and my hotel, and it meant counting her money stack to see if she still held $2,000. She didn’t. I grinned and shouted and paraded my victory as 5-year-old children do, but my grandmother only sighed.
“I don’t like Monopoly very much,” she said.
I don’t mean to sound literary, but college has a lot of Boardwalks. There is tuition and board to pay, and a hundred students who are reading this paper live in a literal hotel. It’s worth it, for the most part. I must have believed differently in March because I rebuked Campus Dining for its steep fees, but my argument then was weak. I had been upset about the Block 95 plan. It costs $18.08 a meal this semester, far more than Chinese takeout or a private buffet.
But high cost alone does not prove an abuse of monopoly power. Columnist Erica Choi ’18 pointed out that other block plans cost as little as $13.28 a meal, adding that I should have grounded my comparison in the price of guest meals. The faults in my first column go on.
A week passed after Choi’s response before I asked a dining hall workerwhat meals cost without a plan. He flipped pages in his binder, eventually reading prices to me from beneath his Campus Dining cap. I could buy breakfast for $9.60. Lunch and brunch were $11.75. Dinner, $16.50. His glasses looked back up at me, eyes confused because I had already swiped in. I was confused, too. These prices did not make sense.
Imagine that a friend visits you for a day. She doesn’t have a meal plan, so she pays out of pocket for breakfast, lunch and dinner. That night she will board the Dinky $37.85 poorer. Meanwhile, those same three meals will cost you $39.84 because you are on the Block 235 plan. If you had been on Block 95, the meals would have cost $54.24. In other words, when you sign your dining contract you are agreeing to buy hundreds of meals, pay up front and pay extra.
The Block 95 plan costs $1,038 more than a non-student would pay for the same number of meals. Students must purchase a meal plan if they are living in a residential college.
Executive Director of Campus Dining Smitha Haneef said in a phone interview that the Block 95 plan is designed “to provide flexibility … to less frequent users.”
Now, I’m not an economist, but I know someone who is. I left the worker at his swipe station and wandered down Prospect Ave. until I stood in the cool shadow of Fisher Hall, one floor below the office where economics professor Elizabeth Bogan sat chatting stocks with a student from her introductory economics class. A clock ticked away the minutes separating her from a train to Boston. I entered with a notepad and pen, prepared to jot notes on the erudite economic theory that could justify Campus Dining’s price structure. But Professor Bogan had no lecture.
“That they charge less for guests than they do on a meal plan is hard to explain on an incremental cost plan,” she said. “If anything, it should be the opposite.” I asked if the inflated meal plan costs could indicate that Campus Dining had a monopoly. “Yes,” Professor Bogan said. “They certainly have monopoly power.”
Campus Dining is not alone. The University grants monopoly power to more than a dozen businesses vying for student dollars, often to the detriment of students. The Dorm Furnishings Agency, for example, brags that their microwave-refrigerator hybrid is the only solution to the Fire Safety policy’s ban on microwaves. Dormitories Manager Ken Paulaski explained to The Daily Princetonian in a November 2, 2014 article that “not all dormitories can handle the electrical load required for microwaves,” but that the MicroFridge brand is permitted because its “Safe Plug” technology turns off power to the refrigerator when the microwave is in use.
If safety were the only reason for the microwave ban, however, Mr. Paulaski’s department would allow us to buy a Safe Plug appliance directly from MicroFridge. Alas, this is forbidden. “If your microfridge was not rented through the Princeton Student Agencies,” the University’s dormitory regulations warn, “you will be asked to remove it by a given date. If the microfridge is not removed, the unauthorized appliance will be confiscated and Fine Schedule #3 applies.” The rental costs $150 per semester, or $1,200 for four years. MicroFridge sells a comparable model for $438.
With margins like that, profits run high. One student said in an interview that his agency pays triple the publicly advertised price — so his three-hour shift pulls in $100 a week. The student was granted anonymity in order to freely discuss the subject.
“I don’t necessarily think it’s fair,” he said, “but I don’t want to mess anything up.”
When I owned a hotel on Boardwalk, I didn’t want to mess things up either. But I’m getting to be a bit like my grandmother. I don’t like monopolies very much.
This article is the second in a three-part series examining University-sanctioned monopolies on campus. You can read the first here.
Newby Parton is a sophomore from McMinnville, Tenn. He can be reached at newby@princeton.edu.
Read More
On encampments, free speech, and ‘time, place, and manner’ rules on university campuses
Christopher L. EisgruberPresident Christopher Eisgruber ’83 comments on encampments, free speech, and “time, place, and manner” rules.
President Christopher Eisgruber ’83 comments on encampments, free speech, and “time, place, and manner” rules.
Princeton needs to be a climate justice leader — emphasis on the ‘climate,’ emphasis on the ‘justice’
Alex Norbrook and Eleanor Clemans-Cope“Princeton must not only withdraw its support from injustices, but also positively re-invest in sustainable and community-informed initiatives.”
“Princeton must not only withdraw its support from injustices, but also positively re-invest in sustainable and community-informed initiatives.”
Princeton must move towards a world-changing curriculum
Luqmaan Bamba“If we in the Orange Bubble are supposed to be taught how to be changemakers, our education should not just stop at learning about change but also extend to the tangible application of it.”
“If we in the Orange Bubble are supposed to be taught how to be changemakers, our education should not just stop at learning about change but also extend to the tangible application of it.”
