The other day, as I often do on the weekend, I betook myself to a café to write in my journal or pick at the short story I’m currently drafting.
The Glen had an appointment with the extrasupergood physios at the Gabba so while he was there getting prodded by the people who prod our Lions, I wandered over to the nub of road and shops that is the end of Logan Road and found a spot that wasn’t too full of people catching up over hollandaise and the heads of toddlers.
It’s called Bistro Bistrot.
In short, apart from the lovely décor it was pretty unwelcoming. The staff, especially the woman running the floor, were snobbish and unsmiling. I had to be officially seated and the tables were all set with a prescribed number of place settings. They’re open before 9am on a Saturday and don’t serve breakfast. This is not what I expect from my Brisbane.
It was hugely pretentious and painfully try hard. I think the owners or managers so desperately want to have a posh place that they have forgotten they are there to serve customers. It’s one of those places that thinks their customers should feel privileged to benefit from being in their super cool establishment. I think they wish they were in Ascot instead of on the dark side of the river.
It spoiled my mood for writing my story so I bitched about them in my journal instead.
They seated me in a draft. It was quite chilly. They made me feel unwelcome because I was there on my own. Within about 30 seconds, I wished I’d gone with the noisy café two doors down.
I asked if I could switch tables. They said sorry we just get so busy. When I left, the cosier table in the corner was still empty.
Within five minutes of my finishing my first coffee, two people asked me if I wanted another one. They probably didn't have anything to do. Still, I need a breathing space of at least 10 minutes between coffees. Most people wouldn’t have a second coffee at all, especially if they weren’t eating. (And why would I be eating their skimpy lunchish menu at 9am? They didn’t have anything gluten free either.)
There was some joy: I ordered my second coffee from a nice smiley waitress and when it arrived it was super cute.
They had five staff on the floor, plus the boss woman. It seemed an expensive strategy for providing mediocre service.
Mediocrity escalated to something more proactive when I went to pay my bill. I’ve never had change flung at me like that.
I was somewhat comforted that they must have been seriously put out by the number of deeply unfashionable people patronising them that day.
The whole experience reminded me of this crazy woman who took over a café near my second flat in St Lucia. She wouldn't let you have just coffee; it was a restaurant thankyouverymuch and you had to order food. Never mind that the place was usually empty and called Das Kaffeehaus.
Comments (2)
Ha! Reminds me of a less than perfect experience of my own last year at a pub, the Nags Head in Belgravia. It was a gorgeous, tiny little place with lots of character, full of bric a brac and photos. I was out with a friend from Brisbane, her boyfriend and a couple of his friends, who were real ale boffins and took us to this place because they knew and loved it.
I was the last to order and we'd just been to dinner and I didn't really fancy anything, so asked for tap water.
The woman behind the bar said in an extremely aggressive manner "You can't order tap water in here. Tap water doesn't pay the rent. If you want tap water you can get it at home."
The place went silent, you could have heard a pin drop - no one could quite believe what they'd heard.
If I had been there just with my friend, I would have told her where to shove it and walked out, which was my instinct. But because the rest of the group had already been served, it would have caused an even more embarrassing scene than the one that silly cow had just created, so I got the bottled water and she got her lousy £1.20 or whatever.
Harumph. Still makes me annoyed thinking about it!
Posted by Jen | March 26, 2010 1:27 AM
Posted on March 26, 2010 01:27
Hehehe. Actually, you can also spell it « Bistro » in French (with French quotation marks please). But, hey, isn't it a French "signature" for a waiter to be unfriendly? Of course, I'm the exception. You had the great pleasure to figure it out. I miss being a nice French person in Brisvegas.
Paris wouldn't be Paris without all those crappy waiters.
http://fr.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bistro
Posted by Stéphane | March 26, 2010 4:33 AM
Posted on March 26, 2010 04:33