Are you being served?


A real bugbear of mine is bad service, is it really that hard to get right?


I was out to diner last night at a very nice restaurant, Spice I Am, their new place in Darlinghurst not the Surry Hills one. Now the food was lovely, the décor stylish and the toilets were in keeping with the style of the place (an important aspect to any restaurant according to my dinner companion). However, the service was appalling, the maitre de was really arrogant, and it makes me wonder if this is a new recruitment criteria for some of the more “new and stylish” venues to open these day, the same arrogance is on display at The Beresford (more on that in a bit). When he spoke to us he didn’t quite look at us, he was talking to us but not really giving us his attention, a bit like “oh if I must talk to these people then I will but really I have far more interesting things to do  Like what I wonder! because ensuring his staff were doing their job properly was not one of them. My dinner companion was also a bit put out by the fact that he sat down at the table with us when taking our order, now you might think this sounds ok, hinting at a kind of intimacy between the customer and staff member. I guess it might have had he actually bothered to make eye contact and take his nose out of the air whilst taking our order. Clearly it was something he thought one of his waitress’ ought to be doing and not him.


To be fair, the waitress made an attempt at an apology for the bad service, actually she made a few, but the jist of it was “the service is bad because we are busy”. Now I know this is a radical thought, but wouldn’t a business that boast on it’s website of being “packed to the rafters” daily, plan for such an eventuality?


Now while I am on the subject of bad service, another venue that I have been frequenting is The Beresford in Surry Hills. This is another new venue full of style considered “the place to be” right now. But again the service is appalling, and I mean it really is shocking, it makes you want to write to someone to complain (oh look here I am writing about it). They have this great bar, which is about the size of a football pitch, but do they fill it with staff to serve all those customers that are flocking there, do they bugger. Seriously on a night out there you spend almost as long stood at the bar waiting to be served than you do stood with your mates.  They have this one girl who I swear is just pretending to be as crap as she is just to wind me up. I mean how hard can it be to get an order right? Admittedly last time I ordered three beers I did ask for two of one kind and one of another, which is I admit an incredibly hard order to process NOT, but did she really have to ask me THREE times which beers I wanted and then get it WRONG anyway? I know you are probably thinking, “well why go there then?” and you know what, I don’t anymore. I’ve gone back to The Green Park which at half the size of The Beresford but just as busy always seems to get you served nice and quickly.  


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3 Responses to “Are you being served?”

  1. Adam Armstrong Says:

    Your dinner “companion” seems to know what he’s talking about. I bet he was tall and blond…. Australia doesn’t seem to rate service highly on the list of priorities in restaurants, except for S Thada Thai which is located but footsteps away from Spice I Am and has excellent service, is BYO, remembers to come and get you when a table is ready and serves good cuisine – at a fraction of the price. Next time I’m taking you there!

    • macarthursmutterings Says:

      Your right my dinner companion was tall and blond, oh and I think he is probably right about most things

  2. Shaunie Says:

    I suffered at the hands of a barman who thought it would be funny not to serve me and got his colleague in on the act too. It was a little amusing game for him to play to while away the time. Pretty sad I thought (wasn’t as if I had been rude or pushed in).

    I complained and sent the Beresford an email, explaining that poofs especialy are a fickle bunch and the speed at which the Beresford has become packed on a sunday night could easily turn into an exodus (just ask the Tilbury and the poor Green Park!) Haven’t heard back from them, so nor have I been back since (I’ll probably crumble some time soon, weakling that I am)

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