An open letter to Guadalupe burritos

Dear Guadalupe burritos,

You don’t know me, but boy, do I know you. My name is Max Hill. I’m the editor-in-chief of the very newspaper you are currently reading. And I have a favour to ask of you.

From the moment you opened your doors in the Maggie Benston Centre of SFU’s Burnaby campus, I knew things were about to change at The Peak offices. For too long, we had argued ceaselessly over dinner choices for our Friday production nights. There was the one editor who always wanted pizza. The one who pined for the sushi place that doesn’t deliver. The one who loved the burgers at the Highland Pub, despite our two vegetarian staffers. I thought we would never be able to find a dinner choice that we could all agree on.

Then you came along, Guadalupe. You changed everything. For the first time, my staff was happy. They had found a food they could all agree on. Chicken, steak, grilled vegetables, guacamole. You had it all. Finally, the only beefs in my office weren’t between co-workers — they were folded between generous helpings of lettuce, sour cream, and shredded cheese.

But you weren’t open for dinner. You provided us with lunches, the lifeblood we needed to make a newspaper on deadline with three hours of sleep, five cups of coffee, and about four computers that actually worked. I didn’t want to be greedy — as the great rock group Poison once sang, every rose has its thorn, even the most beautiful rose of all. In my heart, I knew we would never sample the sweet taste of carnitas past four o’clock, and I had made my peace with that. We all had.

Until one day, you announced you had extended your hours.

My joy upon hearing this news was quickly replaced by reckless, explosive anger when I learned you would remain open until 7 p.m. every day except the one day we needed you: Friday. Production day. Our day, Guadalupe.

I know I have no right to ask you to change this policy. Surely you’ve done your research and concluded that staying open late on Friday is not economically feasible — after all, the only kids on campus late Friday night either live here or have devoted their weekends to working on a campus newspaper barely anyone reads. Why stay open just for their sake, you may ask?

When I became editor-in-chief of this newspaper, I knew I would have to fight for my staff. For my paper. I knew there would be challenges, and that it would be up to me to advocate for the freedom of the press. And that includes the freedom to sample delicious, delicious burritos on Friday nights. It’s not an easy road — no one ever said that it would be. But at the end of the day, I know in my heart that it will all be worth it.

So I’m asking you, Guadalupe, to reconsider. I know our paper doesn’t always seem like much. We may struggle to appeal to our readers, and we may not always make the best choices. But at the end of the day, we’re passionate students who are working tirelessly to make a difference on this campus. And part of that difference is making sure that we, and all others at SFU, have access to your burritos on Friday nights.

Please remember that, the next time you close your doors early on a Friday night, that grumbling you hear isn’t just the sound of your ovens powering down. It’s the sound of all of our stomachs, yearning for a taste of freedom. A taste of Guadalupe.

Cordially,

Max Hill

Editor-in-Chief of The Peak