We all know a buffet bandit. You may not know them by that name, but you certainly know one. You might even be one yourself.

Before we investigate these meatball marauders, let’s all acknowledge a universal truth: Free food tastes much better than food you pay for.

I became familiar with these pizza pirates when I was working as the sports information director at the University of Colorado at Colorado Springs. The Athletic Department offices were in the top floor of the University Center, where there were also several large meeting rooms.

At a university, most conferences and meetings involve food. Over time, I observed that the same group of professors were at nearly every function. That struck me as odd, because our grey-bearded computer science professor was an unlikely guest for a women’s empowerment seminar.

That’s when I became aware of the buffet bandits.

With ninja-like skill, they infiltrate the room prior to the start of the meeting, chatting and blending in with the invited guests. With smiles on their faces, they nonchalantly go through the buffet line, filling their plates with delectables, all the while seeming as if they belong. Their plates full, they evaporate into thin air just before the meeting begins.

I would see them walking through the hallway with their booty.

Yogi Bear could have gotten far more picnic baskets if he had studied these proficient pilferers.

Many journalists become buffet bandits. We’re frequently at events where food is available. Sometimes we’re at venues like the University Center where our event has no food but several others happening at the same time are catered. In short, there’s a lot of opportunity.

Because of this, rules exist concerning free food lest our coverage become corrupted by culinary charity. Foremost among these is that we are only allowed to accept free food if it’s being offered to everyone at the event.

It’s sad when you need rules to prevent people from becoming burger buccaneers.

I spent several years as a sportswriter. Rockies games featured a nice food spread. Some Air Force games featured food. Sky Sox games sometimes had one item, often wings, available to anyone in the press box. Each of these are considered acceptable. I’d be crossing the line if I was given a free hot dog from the concession stand if that wasn’t also available to the PA person and the official scorer.

So beware the buffet bandit, lest the head count you gave the caterer be exceeded and your aunt who’s late for everything be left with an empty plate.

Also beware those who use adroit alliteration. People like that can’t be trusted.

And if you see a grey-bearded computer science professor at your event, have somebody tail him.

We all know a buffet bandit. You may not know them by that name, but you certainly know one. You might even be one yourself.

Before we investigate these meatball marauders, let’s all acknowledge a universal truth: Free food tastes much better than food you paid for.

I became familiar with these pizza pirates when I was working as the sports information director at the University of Colorado at Colorado Springs. The Athletic Department offices were in the top floor of the University Center, where there were also several large meeting rooms.

At a university, most conferences and meetings involve food. Over time, I observed that the same group of professors were at nearly every function. That struck me as odd, because our grey-bearded computer science professor was an unlikely guest for a women’s empowerment seminar.

That’s when I became aware of the buffet bandits.

With ninja-like skill, they infiltrate the room prior to the start of the meeting, chatting and blending in with the invited guests. With smiles on their faces, they nonchalantly go through the buffet line, filling their plates with delectables, all the while seeming as if they belong. Their plates full, they evaporate into thin air just before the meeting begins.

I would see them walking through the hallway with their booty.

Yogi Bear could have gotten far more picnic baskets if he had studied these proficient pilferers.

Many journalists become buffet bandits. We’re frequently at events where food is available. Sometimes we’re at venues like the University Center where our event has no food but several others happening at the same time are catered. In short, there’s a lot of opportunity.

Because of this, rules exist concerning free food lest our coverage become corrupted by culinary charity. Foremost among these is that we are only allowed to accept free food if it’s being offered to everyone at the event.

It’s sad when you need rules to prevent people from becoming burger buccaneers.

I spent several years as a sportswriter. Rockies games featured a nice food spread. Some Air Force games featured food. Sky Sox games sometimes had one item, often wings, available to anyone in the press box. Each of these are considered acceptable. I’d be crossing the line if I was given a free hot dog from the concession stand if that wasn’t also available to the PA person and the official scorer.

So beware the buffet bandit, lest the head count you gave the caterer be exceeded and your aunt who’s late for everything be left with an empty plate.

Also beware those who use adroit alliteration. People like that can’t be trusted.

And if you see a grey-bearded computer science professor at your event, have somebody tail him.