I couldn't tell you how many restaurants I've been to. Eating out is sort of my 'thing'. I don't discriminate- from Michelin stars to dubious late night kebab places, if it's expanding me, and I don't have to cook it, I'm totally there.
Tinseltown is literally the worst restaurant- nay, place- I have ever been to.
Look, I'm 21, I like a bit of Americana and tack, I can appreciate a laminated menu and early 2000s Shakira as much as the next girl. I'm not gonna bitch and whine about £3.50 oven chips doused in curry powder, whatevs, it's all starch. I'm not a service facist either- I get it, we all have to work, you don't want to spend your evening serving excitable teenagers and rowdy tourists milkshake. Sometimes, service with a smile really IS too much to ask for.
But guys, there's a LIMIT. I'm going to take you through my evening. I know it's a bit tl;dr, but have some patience:
11pm, two days before a deadline and my friend and I are finally being turfed out of college. We've done sod all except eat lemon meringue pie and stare blankly into space for several hours, so we decide to head to somewhere, anywhere that opens 24hrs and do an all-nighter of sketchbook work. After a spot of Googling, we settle on Tinseltown, bully a friend into meeting us there, and set off. Half an hour later, we're there, and this place is HUGE, and empty. I mean, there's gotta be about 10-15 large comfortable looking booths in there, and a row of small, hard looking tables. It is dead. There's maybe 3 other small parties in there. It's 11.30 on a Tuesday evening, it's dead, we have a ton of heavy stuff, and we want a booth. Oh no. We are introduced to a waiter who is to make Basil Fawlty look like Dolly effing Parton. He informs us that we must sit at a table because there's only 2 of us. This guy is not being argued with. I mean obviously, this is totally f*ing unreasonable given that the place is tumbleweeding, but w/ev, he says we can move when our friend gets here, so we begrudgingly sit down, get our work out and order a milkshake. About 20 minutes later, the group at the table behind us leaves. We REALLY want to sit there, the lighting is great and we're uncomfortable squeezed around this little table. Our waiter clears off the table, walks off, and we start shifting our stuff over. He notices and comes rushing back over looking like he's about to have a coronary. YOU CANNOT SIT THERE IF THERE'S JUST TWO OF YOU! You can sit there when there's three of you He starts PICKING UP OUR STUFF- and moving us back over to the little table. We're like, Mate, come onbe reasonablethere's no one in here and our friend is going to be here soonCan we please just sit here? Oh no. None of that. This guy is naht happy. He picks up our DRINKS which are practically half bloody full and just walks off with them. We stare at each other in disbelief. My 'excuse me's' go unheard. I have to chase him across the restaurant. He puts them down on the tray, and I have to explain to another guy behind the bar that we weren't done with them and pick them up. I get no apology. I get a nonchalant shrug. I bump into Mr. Parton walking back across the restaurant. I'm quite annoyed by this point. Err, we weren't actually done with these drinks by the way. What? You took our drinks? We hadn't finished them? I thought they were the other tables drinks. Right well no you DIDN'T did you babe, because a) we had JUST been drinking them right under your nose, and b) you had just cleaned off that very same table not a minute before. I walk back over to my friend and mutter, that has to be the worst customer service ever. He spins around, looking like he's about to have a coronary. WHAT did you just say about my customer service? Well I mean it has just ALL kicked off now. We get into an argument about the table situation. I say 'an argument', but really, it's us saying, but why?!, laughing and staring at each other open mouthed, and him offering no logical rebuttal. He storms off. And then returns with a man I presume to me the manager but who had transparently been brought over to frighten us into submission. I mean this guy was enormous, and clearly deliberately trying to intimidate us. As two young female art students, I am slightly confused as to what threat we seemed to pose. My friend looks like she's about to skip off to the little house on the prairie. I guess I could have jabbed him in the eye with a waterproof fine-liner or something but it couldn't have seemed too likely. His argument, incidentally, was that the place was getting busy (there were about 2 more people in there) so we couldn't use up a whole booth. You can't fault his optimism. A big beefy guy from another table actually came over to be like, everything alright?!, at which point the manager/bouncer gave up and walked off. Yeah, sit the fuck down Mr Creosote. By a happy coincidence, at this point, our friend turned up, looking slightly confused by what was clearly a read more