Saturday, July 21, 2007

Service in China

As I have mentioned a few times before, both here and on brother-blog Froogville, service in China is generally abysmal. Almost unbelievably so at times.

The possible reasons are legion. These include, but are not limited to: poor education, the lack of a tipping culture, the Confucian tradition having somehow omitted a work ethic (hey, I'm no expert on this: but I have not found any evidence of a work ethic in Chinese culture; and the Chinese themselves are apt to attribute their entire culture - well, the social ethics of it, anyway - to Confucius; so I think he should bear the blame for its shortcomings as well as reaping the praise for its strengths), appallingly low rates of pay, and bosses being too indolent and penny-pinching to devote any efforts whatsoever to staff training.

I always try to be tolerant and understanding with the individuals concerned. I put most of the blame on the bosses. Particularly in 'Western' bars and restaurants, where you'd expect the standards to be a little higher, the management to be a little more savvy.

There's a British "restaurant" in my 'hood called Fish Nation. Fish'n'chips has never been my thing (things of the sea, no good for me); but the chips are usually pretty decent, the sausages are excellent, and they do a good range of other comfort foods too - pizza, chilli, a breakfast fry-up. The one near me, on Nanluoguxiang, also has a lovely roof terrace.

Unfortunately, the staff never seem to think of coming up to the roof terrace to ask if any of the people there would like to order something. You can sit up there entirely unmolested for half an hour or an hour at a time. If you would actually like to eat or drink something - rather than just enjoying the sunshine for free - you have to holler down the stairs to get some attention. If the food is then taking a very long time to appear (and it often seems to), it may also be wise to go downstairs and collect it yourself. Perhaps the waiters suffer from climacophobia (a morbid fear of staircases, and the possibility of falling on them). Or perhaps they're just lazy and dim-witted.

It puts me in a dilemma. I really like the food, the ambience, the location. And their draft beer is usually pretty good (a real rarity in Beijing). But the service is just appalling. This is an instance where I don't entirely blame the management (at least not in regard to training, though probably in regard to staff selection and supervision). The guys working there at the moment are dumb as posts. If this were Europe or North America, I'd boycott the place in perpetuity - no question. But here in China..... we learn to put up with an awful lot.

Yesterday, I had a similar experience in another of my old favourites on that street (I won't "name and shame" because I have a huge soft spot for the place, and I am clinging to the hope that this might have been just a one-off aberration): The waiter gave me a menu. I perused it for a couple of minutes. I made an order. The waiter said, "Oh, our kitchen is being re-built at the moment. We only have pizza and salad." This is not the time to tell me.

Really, you have to laugh. Otherwise you'd go completely MAD.

3 comments:

Froog said...

A postscript, my favourite Fish Nation story.

A couple of years ago I was briefly dating a very elegant Frenchwoman. Well, sort of, almost. We went out a couple of times, in a flirtatious but Platonic way. Then she went back to France. She was supposed to be returning to Beijing a few months later, but I never heard from her again.

Anyway - I invited her to my birthday party at Fish Nation. Just a small dinner&drinks affair for 7 or 8 friends. "A British restaurant?" she asked incredulously, when I explained to her where we were meeting. "You're not going to eat there, are you?"

Nobody does disdain like the French!

Anonymous said...

ha! so true.

I noticed a new Singaporean restaurant close to work and went there with some colleagues and my intern for lunch last week. After 15 minutes of the waitress running back and forth to the kitchen to ask if such and such item was available, we determined that of the 56 choices on the menu, only chicken curry was available.

we decided to go next door to the Indian restaurant and have our chicken curry.

Anonymous said...

and I like the postscript. that is funny.