It’s an issue that crops up periodically – the issue of South African hospitality service levels.  Or any service levels, really.  After all, the tourist doesn’t only interact with hotel staff – there are shopkeepers, telephone receptionists, garage attendants, flower-sellers and the like, all of whom might have dealings with a tourist.

But for the sake of this article, let’s confine ourselves to the hospitality industry.  Hotel and restaurant staff, in particular.

And we can begin with my famous Law of Inverse Value:  the more expensive, exclusive and hyped a place is, the better the chances are that the service is terrible.

There appears to be a peculiar perception amongst manager and owners that guests will be so happy with gold taps and cashmere blankets that they won’t notice loud cleaning staff clattering buckets outside their bedroom at 5am. 

I don’t know if it is just because I am an unrehabilitated pleb, but terribly upmarket lodges and hotels make me uneasy.  I feel I must surreptitiously polish my shoes on the legs of my jeans.  I become acutely aware of ragged fingernails and unruly hair sticking up.  My default setting is ‘scruffy’ which is most likely why receptionists at these places tend to look down their noses at me and serving staff at table ignore my requests for a glass of water. 

I can list exclusive and expensive lodges where I have heaved a sigh of relief when I left, and any number of unpretentious hostelries and eating places where within minutes the management and staff are my New Best Friends.

The point I am trying to make – perhaps a little laboriously – is that good service costs nothing and is not related at all to the amount of money that a guest pays.  Upmarket places, with their carpetpile as deep as a wheatfield and loos that dry you off with a puff of warm scented air (the first time that happened to me I leapt out of my skin and cracked my head on the basin…), these lodges create expectations that will be shattered by any dip in the level of service.  Staff are – perhaps inevitably – not heavily invested in you as a guest and therefore do nothing but follow orders.  It’s service by rote.  They are rigidly trained to treat a guest in a certain way and are not too sure why they do it.  When it comes to discretionary treatment – the difference between hovering irritatingly when the guest doesn’t need you and vanishing when they do – this cannot be taught.

This was a case this last week when I took family and friends to a ‘famous restaurant’ for my daughter’s sixteenth birthday.  I won’t mention the name of the restaurant, aside from the fact that it was Moyo’s. 

We were lavishly greeted by a beautiful waitress, who complimented us on our outfits and our style.  We were escorted to our tables on a wave of flattery.  We were skilfully face-painted, our hands were washed in rose-scented water.  Our order was taken with speed.  Our drinks arrived, unopened. 

And then we discovered why staff are called ‘waiters’.  Because from this point on we waited.  And waited.  And got up to ask for stuff.  And went to the front desk to find our server.  And cleared the dirty dishes and glasses to a neighbouring table as a broad hint that they should be removed (which they weren’t – they were still there when we left).  And went in search the bill.  And finally got up and went to the front desk to pay.

The restaurant was not busy – I am always prepared to make huge allowances for staff when a place is busy.  But there were approximately six widely-spaced tables occupied and no sign of any staff apart from numbers of them chatting idly next to the front desk.

This is the problem in a nutshell – places create expectations and then dash them by stinting on the service.

Therefore I am of the firm belief that the service industry is not for everyone.  No amount of training creates a warm welcome.  It is not an easy job or something that anyone can do.  Some people are instinctive hosts and others aren’t.  I would be the first to admit that I would be terrible.  Like Basil Fawlty, I would be able to run a hotel perfectly if it wasn’t for the guests.

But then I am not in the hospitality field, and in the interests of our tourism industry I intend to stay out of it.  There are many other people who should do the hospitality industry a favour and also stay out of it.

So – good hospitality is not providing  a guest a rose-petal-strewn bath when they really prefer to shower.  It is not empty flattery, elaborate extras or paint-by-numbers treats.  It is the simple warmth of adapting your welcome and approach to what the guest actually, truly wants.  It is reading the personality of the person you are dealing with to push the right buttons.

And if anyone out there thinks that they have nailed down perfect hospitality, please let me know.  I would love to come and visit you!