There's a concept called "Midwestern nice" which generally refers to an almost pathological obsession with polite behavior and surface courtesy that some Midwesterners exhibit. One of us actually grew up in the Midwest and thinks that Midwestern nice isn't an act--people here really are like that--but some people take it to extremes, creating a personality that borders on insincerity.
In the law school Midwestern nice isn't as evident, although you could make a case that our own beloved Dean Zearfoss is the UMLS equivalent. She's got an endless supply of perkiness and seems to really want you to come here. It's not just in real life, either--reading her blog (http://www.law.umich.edu/connection/a2z/default.aspx), you get the same sense of Dean Z's rapid-fire style. She's UMLS's Liz Lemon.
Dean Z doesn't have the insincere touch that Midwestern nice sometimes creates; either she's amazingly good at pretending to be energetically interested all the time, or she actually is that way. A2's other Z icon, however, seems to have crossed the line from Midwestern nice to Midwestern cult. We're talking about Zingerman's, of course--the emporium/empire that has cornered the market on upscale food and food products and has done so since before half our student body was born.
There's no point in rehashing the most common complaints about Zingerman's: the exorbitant prices that prevent any student without a parent or legal guardian present from actually eating a full meal, the slightly overrated food (would you like more grease with that?), and the insane crowds that descend during freshman orientation, graduation, and pretty much every weekend. Yes, it's A2's version of New York's Magnolia Bakery--a tourist trap that, for the locals, has jumped the shark a while back.
This isn't to say that there is nothing good about Zingerman's. If you chance on the right order you can have an amazing meal--some of their homemade products like the cheeses and gelatos are great, and they stock a lot of products that you can't get anywhere else in the county (and maybe the state). But the fame has transformed a quirky deli into a weirdly cult-like behemoth. The garish branding and advertising that's omnipresent in the stores and on the packaging is both a graphic design nightmare and an off-putting, overly corporatized sense of whimsy. When you start developing a trademark, it's hard to keep up the act of "we're just a fun little store that serves great food."
The Zingerman's staff manages to take the Midwestern nice to a new level, too. They're helpful to the point of maybe not being believable--or at least seeming a little exhausting. It's all in keeping with the vibe of the place, but it's not really clear why "juggernaut deli" needs to be humanized into a cultish cheeriness. The energy would probably be better directed into ensuring consistency in the food rather than creating an environment that, between the crowds and the excessive smiles, makes you want to eat your sandwich in the less hyped-up confines of your home. Maybe Zingerman's can take a tip from Dean Z and underplay the energy level a bit. Just like with food, sometimes less is more.
Of course, if you give them $15, the Culinary Club Board won't say no to a Zingerman's sandwich. Email your credit card number to rg@umich.edu.

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