You know you’re in a typical Malaysian restaurant when you have to beg the service staff as if you’re kowtowing to a god-emperor just to make them descend from their throne above to your table so they can take your order, but even worse are those that holds the menu hostage but still expect you to manually write down what you want to eat, as if these businesses could no longer afford hiring service staff that could write and listen, or that their menus are made from some sort of precious 24-karat gold. Whoever started this trend needs to have all three pairs of my combat boots with the shoerack included shoved up their anus.
But I’d tell you what I did yesterday afternoon: I sat in one of those kinds of scumbag restaurants around my campus, where instead of whistling and waving frantically for minutes to get their attention, I just sat there inside (yes, INSIDE) the restaurant and provided the service staff with clues that I haven’t ordered anything yet through the use of body language (staring, looking at them, appearing irritated, twiddling thumbs, etc). 10 minutes on, nothing bloody happenned. Yes, none of the service staff got any fucking clue. I was ignored outright. 20 minutes on, I think two or three of them gave me a look when I stared at them, but still no response. 30 minutes on, the restaurant was slowly becoming deserted as people started going to class or back to office, but lo and behold, still no response from the service staff. Not even an attempt at curiosity of asking if anything was wrong with that irritated-looking customer who kept writing damning posts about their restaurant on his Facebook status, or even do something as simple as checking if there were any order notes at the counter from that table or not. 40 minutes on, I decided to pack up and leave, and I did so without getting noticed. Gee, I must’ve been the goddamn Batman or something!
Before I left, I wrote down on one of the order notepad (that lazy order form they forced customers to write on): “30 minutes, no service”. I was being lenient as fuck when I decided to omit the extra 10 minutes from the actual time I spent waiting for them to take my money, but I suppose their restaurant favoured free distribution of seats and oxygen rather than making dough. Anyway, off I went leaving this pile of shambolic cuntfest for elsewhere.
After that, I went to a restaurant called D’Rich which is 10 minutes of walking distance from my campus. It was yet another typical rip-off Malaysian restaurant that overcharged customers for relatively small meal size and adding up that annoying out of nowhere 10% service charge, but at least the service staff is prompt even if that still didn’t do much justice to the aforementioned service charge. They have this gimmicky bowl-shaped bread with half-boiled eggs inside that went for a preposterous RM5.80 pricetag. Did I mention it’s essentially only bread and half-boiled eggs? Chicken chop turned out to be RM17.90 instead of RM16.90 as stated on the menu. Why the extra cheating RM1 is beyond me. Iced milo at RM4.50? What the bloody hell is this, a five-star hotel? Even though I praised them for their promptness, their service staff couldn’t conversate properly in either Malay or English, probably Siamese or something. Who the fuck is responsible for hiring them? Oddly enough I was still somewhat satisfied despite getting hit with an outrageous RM31 bill for so little. Maybe it was the good service that helped cool my temper a bit. At just below RM30, I could order a more filling set meal with green tea at Sushi King, and Sushi King is only so-so at best, which further amplifies how dire the standards (if any) of most Malaysian restaurants. At times like this, I’d wish for Gordon Ramsay to come over to such establishments and lay down some much needed bollocking.
Now you know why the best Malaysian restaurant around is McDonalds.
Image Source: Pixiv – 備長