In the dimly lit corridors of Houston Hall, a tragic tale of rebellion, melted cheese, and broken dreams unfolded. What began as an innocent late-night comfort food operation soon became the stuff of Tufts legend.
Our story follows a sophisticated operation that had everything: codenames, secret handshakes, and what one witness described as “shockingly decent sandwich-making skills for freshmen boys.” Sources say the underground sandwich syndicate operated under the Instagram handle “tuftsgrilledcheesus,” a moniker that would eventually become the operation’s undoing.
The operation’s swift downfall came when ResLife caught wind of the unauthorized business venture. A strongly-worded email, which CCed all Houston residents, sent shockwaves through the grilled cheese underground. The administration reminded students that running a business out of a dorm room violated the sacred Tufts University License Agreement — a document that approximately 0.003% of students have actually read (Kolker, et al 2013 report).
But the story doesn’t end there. In a dramatic Instagram post titled “The New Testament,” the Grilled Cheesus collective announced their evolution from illicit cheese-slingers to community organizers. Their new manifesto promised “wholesome community gathering[s]” that “may or may not consist of indulging in some free grilled cheese in unity.”
The Grilled Cheesus saga has taught us many valuable lessons: the strength of community, the power of entrepreneurship, and most importantly, the fine line between selling snacks and violating university housing agreements. As one freshman put it while hastily stuffing a panini press under their bed, “In the end, isn’t the real grilled cheese the friends we made along the way?”