I had been sitting at my table for 15 minutes, with neither a menu nor a glass of water. For the fifth time I put up my hand and waved at the waitress who pretended she hadn’t seen me. When our eyes finally met, I gave her a big smile and mouthed the word carte. She gritted her teeth and said: “Monsieur, je n’ai que deux mains.” Translation: “I only have two hands.”
|Service without a smile|
To many frequent travelers to Europe, my rather unpleasant dining experience at the Parisian restaurant is all too familiar. From store clerks in Rome to bus drivers in Geneva and airport security in London, customer service personnel in Europe are trained to be rude...
Read the rest of this essay in No City for Slow Men, available at major bookstores in Hong Kong and at Blacksmith Books.
|No City for Slow Men|