It was early evening as we left the restaurant without tipping its rapidly diminishing staff. This never happens - both because my husband and I are too polite, and because the service in most restaurants is at the very least vaguely acceptable. But this time, the staff were so busy setting up tables for the next day, that they forgot about clearing ours and feeding us.
When I asked the till guy next to us, whether we could please have the kids' desserts we had already ordered, he didn't apologise, but to his credit, he did ensure that they were brought out immediately, and the rest of our table was even cleared in time too. Still no offer of dessert for us adults though. I did manage to secure a dessert menu which I perused for 10 minutes, before a slightly confused member of staff came up and asked whether she could help me. By this point, I wanted a dessert just to see whether I would actually get to eat it. I ordered the cheesecake, only to be given what probably used to be a cheese cake, but was now a rather stale imitation of one. I soldiered on, only to give up halfway through. And so it was that we left without tipping.
This isn't my only recent encounter with eccentric customer service. We went to a Coeliac fair (yes really) to buy gluten-free goodies. Unsure what to buy for lunch, we couldn't resist the prospect of a gluten-free pork pie. I can see that it doesn't sound that exciting on paper, and perhaps that should have rung some alarm bells. However, my husband bought the things, and we both tucked in. They were certainly very meaty. In fact, they were mainly meat with a tiny bit of pastry. And not much else. So, as I was struggling through this disappointingly dry pie, I innocently remarked to hubby, that mine contained gristle - just as the lady from the pork pie stall walked past. As we rounded the corner, still struggling to chew through it, pork-pie woman came over. "Is it a nice pie?" she asked, innocently. I was too embarrassed to do anything but nod, pretending I still had too much food in my mouth to talk. "Would you pass it?", she continued, rather tensely perhaps and clearly not wanting the real answer. Again, I nodded. "Oh good, I am only asking because I made them!!", she finished, foaming at the mouth and staring at me menacingly with her mad googly eyes. Okay, so maybe I made up that last bit, but why can't all our businesses provide the same excellent level of service as their North American counterparts?
For example: In 2004 we travelled around Canada, where restaurant staff were always checking how we wanted our food. Like the time we had lunch in some random café. I chose a burger from the menu, and sat down. My husband then proceeded to shout out various questions across the café: "Do you want ketchup?", "Would you like gherkins?" etc. I said "no" every time, assuming that what he obviously meant was "Do you want this added to your burger?". How wrong I was. When my lunch arrived, I discovered that, rather than assuming I wanted exactly what I had ordered, the staff had been checking whether I really did want all of the ingredients. So, I was faced with a rather dry-looking bun hugging a pathetically lonely vegetable patty. Cue minor melt-down. I had had enough of constantly having to re-affirm my orders. Perhaps I should be grateful for the bossy, "couldn't give a damn" attitude of European service providers - at least I don't have to make all those pesky choices....
Saying that, being given the finger by Eeyore in Disneyland Paris, because I dared ask him to pose for a photo, as he was walking off for his break, doesn't rank amongst my greatest holiday memories either. It may be situated in France, where the service provider is king, but don't they realise, they work for an American company?
Perhaps self-service is the way forward. Or perhaps the answer is to be rude back. Michael Winner had the right idea......
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