When you reach a
certain age you see things a bit differently, and some of your thoughts
are seen by others as grumpy old man or woman syndrome, as in a bit of
moaning for the sake of it. I like to think of it as a product and
train of thought set by life’s journey so far.
Now one of my little bitches in life (and there are many) is the
automatic pilot syndrome, and I don’t mean the electronic pilot that
keeps your plane in the air when you go on your hols.
No, it’s the state of trance you find most serving people in
restaurants utilising; you know the crack – starters brought to the
table, then the mains. Along comes the auto pilot, could be male or
female, doesn’t seem to make a lot of difference, but along they come
jollying up to the table.
“Everything all right with your meal?” and before you open your
mouth they will be half way turned around ready for their next task,
and to be fair they neither listen to what you say or give a shit.
Well the last time I took her who must be obeyed out for a bit of
nosh was just last week; the weather was shite so we decided to try a
new restaurant out in our local town. It was too snowy to take the car
out and a brisk walk in the chilly air would do us both the power of
good we / she decided, so reasons a plenty to try the new local
eatery. It came well recommended so we decided to give it a go.
In brief, the place was bloody freezing, decor a bit haphazard and
the menu somewhat limited, but there was food that could be eaten by
her who must be obeyed who suffers from a wheat intolerance (can’t
spell the affliction), so after consulting the menu we decide to give
it a go.
Anyhow, starter consumed, not bad. Main course ordered and duly
delivered to the table and five minutes later along comes auto pilot,
“Everything alright with your meal?”
Now this eatery advertises they only cook fresh produce and this can
mean there may be a bit of a wait for the food to arrive, but the time
delay from entering to eating was less than OK, and the place was like
a bloody fridge so we (well me to be fair and she to a lesser extent)
was on negative thought mode right from the start. And the food was
not piping hot, and the plates were decidedly cool.
I don’t know exactly what caused it but on the question, “Everything
alright with your meal?” my answer was very quietly given and with a
smile on my face, “It was OK, but if likened to sex, I’ve had better
shags elsewhere.”
Answer from auto pilot “Oh that’s good, thank you.”
Now on this occasion her who must be obeyed did smirk a little bit,
thank god, as in the past similar comments have resulted in some
serious bruising around the leg and foot area at best. At worst a
bloody good dressing down is the order of the day or night, and a “keep
to your own side of the bed tonight” pointy finger, grumpy face telling
naughty child off type of thing.
This is not grumpy old man / woman syndrome, it’s about expecting value for my hard earned money is what it is.
Above all, blog reader, it’s all about customer service in
restaurants and retail establishments. If you don’t give a shit don’t
ask, and if you do ask then bloody well listen.
The town’s new restaurant? Quite simply not the best shag I’ve ever had.
To catch up with more of Graham Barker's ranting and raving follow the link
http://justrecyclingblog.wordpress.com/
