Service with a…oh balls…


Raise your hand I’ve you’ve ever waited tables. I personally worked the dinner shift in countless restaurants from the age of sixteen until I was vaguely employed. Let’s face it people, it’s not brain surgery. And although waiting tables can sometimes be compared to prostitution and or having a really, really bad day, I think that it’s also not the worst way to make money. You take an order. You bring the food. You don’t spill anything on the customer. You clear the plates. You get a tip. And you’re vaguely pleasant while you do all of that. And generally, the more pleasant you are, the greater the tip. Which is why I expect a minute level of friendliness when I’m being served. It doesn’t always happen, does it?

Let’s take a recent excursion for example. Our first outing to Crepes & Crepes in Cherry Creek on 3rd Avenue. Granted it was a very rushed breakfast, with 3 small children, just as they opened. But we’ve been wanting to try them out for a while, especially now since they’re providing the hot lunches at Mia’s school. Weird, I know. And no, the kids don’t eat crepes every day, they eat regular kid food. In fact, they never get crepes. I digress…well, the crepes were pretty good. Very crepe like, with loads of gooey stuff. Darian had something cheesy and savory (just how I like my men) and the kids and I went for the all out Nutella assault. Not too chewy, not too crisp, not spectacular, but nice. But the waitress? Ice cold! Did not manage to crack a smile, a snarl, or even really look us in the eye from the minute we sat down. I’m sorry that it’s 9am on a Sunday and you don’t want to be here. But we did. And we would have liked to be treated that way. Besides the fact that she didn’t bring the teabags with my tea. And ignored us twice when we asked if the music could be turned down a smidgen (we were outside and under a speaker). It’s a service industry and part of your job is to be nice, as far as I’m concerned. I’m not talking group hugs here, but at least a small semblance of friendliness. Can’t you fake it?

So my question would be – do you leave unsatisfied, if even slightly uncomfortable with the service? Do you say something. What do you say? Do you bother? Do you never go back? Do you just suck it up, because after all you’re just the customer? Hmmm. I guess you just moan on your blog!


About baciamille

I'm Alexia, Alex, Lexi or Lex, depending on who you are. I'm mom to Mia, Maxim and Milan, wife to Darian, the co-creator and CEO known as Fancy Pants at Vuka Energy Drinks. I'm a marathon running, triathlete, musician and writer, wanna be rock star, all time actress, creative, vocal and sometimes just a little crahayzy. I think that's all. One day I plan to spend most of my time on a boat in the Carribean. Oh, and baciamille means a thousand kisses in Italian. I don’t know any other words in Italian.
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One Response to Service with a…oh balls…

  1. baciamille says:

    I clearly don’t know how to include the little French accent that I know is supposed to be on the word crepe somewhere…

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