There would be a hundred times when one hears that line but only a hand full of times when it’s actually meant. Service industries have forever thrived on that mantra but very rarely does one actually feel ‘welcomed’
Well, I’d still say it’s better than some places serving an attitude of ‘if you don’t like us leave! We’ve got a waiting list to fill up your seat!’
The other day at Barista as I kept my coffee warm, fumigating, over a bunch of kids caressing each other under the table, I noticed the attendants went about their orders mechanically. A rare question like ‘which iced coffee is served with cookies?’ threw one completely off guard as he went running in to get me the menu. He emerged, after 15 mins and as I suspected he didn’t know- cause the drink didn’t exist. At least not at Barista. But c’mmon if you work there how difficult is it to know the 31/2 items you serve, at the back of your hand? I guess the fact that the kids lied about them being in the 10th grade was more of a piss off then no cookies in my iced coffee!
I know, I know, my Aunt Hilda nose extends a bit over my backyard sometimes but hey! tomorrow, I’ll have to rear in this pasture and I just want to know at what age, I chain my kids, if this is what they call globalization.
As I walked in to clear the check I was heartened by little ‘post its’ that adorned the wall of the café. Expressions of how lovely the place is and how they’d love to return. I looked around but couldn’t see why. Maybe I didn’t fit the target audience of ‘thank god for this corner café, mom will never figure out ‘was here!’ Just as I was about to take a look at the check, my faithful attendant yanked it back, daring to tear it in two. I presumed it was a billing error as he fumbled with a pen, had arid conversations with his fellow mates, looked at how many pieces of Garlic Cilantro were left, scribbled something and returned the bill.
‘It was nice serving you, look forwards to seeing you again’ is what the hand subconsciously imprinted. The impassive emotions well practiced. If waving out an SOS to catch his attention was his idea of ‘serving’ then I think I’m leaving a post it as well!
I know I sound like a horrid tornado that must be avoided but please, lets not insult a customer’s intelligence. I’d be fine if I didn’t get that note. We’ve come too far to accept that if you don’t leave a hefty tip or don’t ‘regular’ that seat then you’re not special.
Now, where’s that kid, I think I need to ask him about his mom….
