The other day, one of the local television stations did a piece on snoozing watchmen (didn’t you just feel sorry for all of those poor souls who addressed the cameras without knowing that they would soon be sacked for their errant ways?)
Well I got to thinking about the service sector and thought that a piece should certainly be done on waiters. I seriously believe that there should be a special school where all in the service industry should go before being set free on the unsuspecting public. (You can even throw in a 'bar' exam of sorts ...) And they should have some form of Hippocratic oath before graduating to serve to the best of their ability … and do no harm to mankind.
I have many a war tale on my sufferings at the hands of waiters. Why only yesterday I was at one of these famous South African outlets where I ordered a meal and a soda. Lo and behold I got a humongous ½ liter bottle of soda whereas I wanted the smaller one and worst of all, it came open. I mean really! In this day and age, who serves drinks which are not open in font of the clientele. Think dirt, germs, drugs, spit, detergent? Anything could find its way in leaving you in great difficulty when trying to explain to the doctor what exactly it was you ate that caused your food poisoning. So I tell the lady waitress that I would prefer to see the soda open before me. At first she plays a nearly convincing impression of a deaf mute as she busily engages in serving my counterparts. When I repeat and insist, she lethargically rolls her eyes (why roll your eyes if your going to do so lethargically? Won’t the meaning being conveyed by the gesture be lost?) and says “Hivyo ndiyo tunafanya huku.” No apology. No explanation. Nothing. And the woman moves away. End of story.
Later on while unwinding from work, I go to a joint known for its simple setting along Mombasa Road. The place is kicking and it’s all we can do at first to get a seat. We manage and order one round of drinks. It’s Karaoke night and it’s going fairly well. So the Waitress comes (I don’t know why they’re always female) and takes our orders. Even before I realize that there’s someone there to take our orders, I notice her plaintiff voice rising above the sound of the music when in answer to my friends question on whether they have a certain drink. She's shrieking and saying that we need to give her one single payment for all the drinks as the barman won’t give her change for separate payments.
Pause. Consider:
a) If we didn’t know each other, would she ask us to put our heads together and come up with a single payment?
b) What does the mode/amount of payment have to do with whether or not the drink my friend wants is in stock?
c) Why the shrieking?
Whereas we were in a sociable mood, we provide a solution to her change problem by only giving her one note and would you know it, the $!&<# waitress decides that the change is her tip. Whereas we had not received service worth tipping for, and do not believe that waiters (or any one else for that matter) should unilaterally pick what they want from your money, we call her and ask for the balance. She moves off to get it but never comes back. We have to track her down and ask her again, at which point she puts on a baffled expression and swears amicably that she'd forgotten. Well at least this time she returns with the money. Ooiie!
And I can’t sign this off without mention of the personal hell I’ve been treated to by these people called waiters. I drink hot milk (bite me) and hot water on occasion (not together though ... that would just be tea devoid of tea bags!). I have watched the drink brought in tall glasses (more times than I care to count) , so hot that the waiter carries it on a saucer. If you can’t hold it neither can I. And no I will not just wait for it to cool ... it won't be hot anymore. Just put it in a %*<$!+@ cup!
I’d like to see a few of these guys giving TV commentaries on why they’re so bad at their jobs and then go the way of the now unemployed watchmen after their 15 minutes.
Well I got to thinking about the service sector and thought that a piece should certainly be done on waiters. I seriously believe that there should be a special school where all in the service industry should go before being set free on the unsuspecting public. (You can even throw in a 'bar' exam of sorts ...) And they should have some form of Hippocratic oath before graduating to serve to the best of their ability … and do no harm to mankind.
I have many a war tale on my sufferings at the hands of waiters. Why only yesterday I was at one of these famous South African outlets where I ordered a meal and a soda. Lo and behold I got a humongous ½ liter bottle of soda whereas I wanted the smaller one and worst of all, it came open. I mean really! In this day and age, who serves drinks which are not open in font of the clientele. Think dirt, germs, drugs, spit, detergent? Anything could find its way in leaving you in great difficulty when trying to explain to the doctor what exactly it was you ate that caused your food poisoning. So I tell the lady waitress that I would prefer to see the soda open before me. At first she plays a nearly convincing impression of a deaf mute as she busily engages in serving my counterparts. When I repeat and insist, she lethargically rolls her eyes (why roll your eyes if your going to do so lethargically? Won’t the meaning being conveyed by the gesture be lost?) and says “Hivyo ndiyo tunafanya huku.” No apology. No explanation. Nothing. And the woman moves away. End of story.
Later on while unwinding from work, I go to a joint known for its simple setting along Mombasa Road. The place is kicking and it’s all we can do at first to get a seat. We manage and order one round of drinks. It’s Karaoke night and it’s going fairly well. So the Waitress comes (I don’t know why they’re always female) and takes our orders. Even before I realize that there’s someone there to take our orders, I notice her plaintiff voice rising above the sound of the music when in answer to my friends question on whether they have a certain drink. She's shrieking and saying that we need to give her one single payment for all the drinks as the barman won’t give her change for separate payments.
Pause. Consider:
a) If we didn’t know each other, would she ask us to put our heads together and come up with a single payment?
b) What does the mode/amount of payment have to do with whether or not the drink my friend wants is in stock?
c) Why the shrieking?
Whereas we were in a sociable mood, we provide a solution to her change problem by only giving her one note and would you know it, the $!&<# waitress decides that the change is her tip. Whereas we had not received service worth tipping for, and do not believe that waiters (or any one else for that matter) should unilaterally pick what they want from your money, we call her and ask for the balance. She moves off to get it but never comes back. We have to track her down and ask her again, at which point she puts on a baffled expression and swears amicably that she'd forgotten. Well at least this time she returns with the money. Ooiie!
And I can’t sign this off without mention of the personal hell I’ve been treated to by these people called waiters. I drink hot milk (bite me) and hot water on occasion (not together though ... that would just be tea devoid of tea bags!). I have watched the drink brought in tall glasses (more times than I care to count) , so hot that the waiter carries it on a saucer. If you can’t hold it neither can I. And no I will not just wait for it to cool ... it won't be hot anymore. Just put it in a %*<$!+@ cup!
I’d like to see a few of these guys giving TV commentaries on why they’re so bad at their jobs and then go the way of the now unemployed watchmen after their 15 minutes.
