What was meant to be a romantic Valentine’s evening quickly transformed in a service nightmare of note. For Skopus Business Consultants, service excellence is a non-negotiable issue, and because we are attuned to service excellence it is easier to notice areas of improvement all the time. A restaurant on Main Road, Randburg proved to be a case study of how service excellence can be improved by leaps and bounds.
The initial contact with the restaurant was quite pleasant. The phone was answered within the proverbial three rings and the reservation was quickly noted down. The person taking the reservation put down the telephone before it could be clarified that a non-smoking area would be preferred at this establishment
Remembering the excellence one always got at the old Munchiner Haus in Braamfontein, the short journey to the venue was filled with excited expectations which quickly were invalidated by a series of incidents that could be viewed as tragic-comic to say the least.
The entrance to the restaurant seemed to be more complicated than any maze that ever confronted mankind. No fewer than four possible dining areas were observed and no one was able to locate the booking made earlier in the day. Perhaps a little booth right at the main entrance to the restaurant’s courtyard could have solved the feeling of utter confusion when arriving. Having been sent upstairs, downstairs, cross-stairs and upstairs again, the booking was eventually found on a dirty scrap of paper and two hungry (slightly irritated diners) were escorted to a very dinghy-looking booth in the smoking area. Requesting a seat in a non-smoking area created the finest “cat in the pigeon coup” reaction one could imagine.
Eventually, the guests were escorted to a table downstairs. One of the guests made a remark that she works for a reputable hotel school and that service should received attention at this establishment. Under normal circumstances, however, one would expect such a remark to raise awareness about service excellence but in the case of our host, the remark could just as well have been made to the main course.
There is an old saying stating that the blandest food could be served to a king if it is done with a flourish. Not being a food critic but rather interested in service levels, the author will reserve his opinion about the quality of the food. Two remarks may be appropriate at this time, namely that the huge portions justify the slightly inflated prices. Last, the author never before tasted such buttery, melt-in-the-mouth herring as that served at this place.
Though the rest of the evening went reasonably well for the author and his wife, the group next to us were less fortunate. No fewer than twenty “sorry about that” utterances could be heard from the wait staff in about an hour and a half. One guest’s main course was not served with the rest, and when the course arrived, it turned out to be the wrong order.
“Sorry about that”, and back to the kitchen. After the third attempt and as many “sorry about that” mumblings, the correct main course arrived but it was colder than a well-digger’s feet. Another “sorry about that” accompanied the cold food to the kitchen, after which it returned a few minutes later; thanks to modern microwave technology, we presume.
More irritating and horrifying than the stream of “sorry about that” we overheard, was the way that the wait staff navigated the dining area. One does not pass between a wall and a diner’s seat to move to and from the kitchen when there is a large passageway on the opposite side. It is not pleasant to see how diners are being bumped while attempting to have a bland meal, or how the nervously reach to the dinks glasses before it might tumble over when a clueless waitron insists to navigate the narrow gap between the diners’ chair and the wall that separates the dining room from a rather smelly kitchen.
The coup-de-grace of the romantically intentioned evening came when a waitron served wine to the guests behind the author’s wife. A photo had to be taken to memorialise this horror of horror forever and a reminder to never, never, never see wine served like Valentine’s Day 2012. Carrying the wine on a tray is perfectly acceptable. But, putting the tray between one’s knees so that the bottle of wine could be opened is simply not done. Having realised that a photo was taken, the tray was promptly put on the floor after which the titanic struggle to open the bottle of wine, continued.
The came the moment when all appetite disappeared and was overwhelmed by an uncontrollable urge to leave immediately.
The wine bottle was snugly fitted under the left armpit. After a quick wipe over the face, the cork screw was manoeuvred until the cork came out with a loud pop. Just one though flashed through the author’s mind at that moment. Would it not have been better to place the wine bottle on the table and then attempt to open it? Actually, more thoughts came up like lawn mushrooms after summer rains.
v How do smelly armpits and a bottle of expensive plonk in a restaurant that serves bland food actually complement one another?
v How many “sorry about that” could a single diner endure before jumping off a cliff in despair?
v How many times can wait staff afford to get it wrong before disgruntled diners decide to leave a one-penny tip?
In the hour and a half that the author and his wife tolerated questionable service, three other couples who waited for a table in the adjoining bar decided to leave. It was not as if the downstairs restaurant areas we filled to the brim. At least four empty tables could be spotted – and those tables remained empty form the time the author and his wife arrived, until they left.
A restaurant with empty tables on Valentine’s Day?
One wonders why.
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