Service

In contrast to my last exciting gossippy entry about up-close encounters with movie stars, today I am going to write about the fascinating (at least to me) subject of differences between the U.S. and U.K. service industries. Oh yes, I can feel the excitement levels rising in you.

As everyone throughout the western world is aware, the U.S service is industry is guaranteed to fill all your needs with a smile.

At first I found it odd that it's not really the done thing to browse through clothes shops. I love browsing, and feel a bit like a suspected shoplifter when someone trails me as soon as I enter the store, reminding me constantly that they're here to help me with anything I could possibly need. On the other hand, I found it really useful on Friday, when shopping for new jeans, that the girl at Miss Sixty could direct me instantly to the products in the store that fit my requirements (dark, skinny and low-cut). She checked on me in the changing room, found out which pair was best so far, then refined her search around the store based on that. I ended up with the most perfectly-fitting pair of jeans I have ever owned.

On the other hand, it really annoys me that in all L.A. restaurants (including some pretty fancy places) the serving staff start clearing away your plates as soon as you finish a course - before waiting for everyone else on your table to finish theirs. It's horrible. If you're the slow one you feel painfully bad for keeping everyone else waiting. If you're the fast one you feel bad for disrupting your tablemates dinner by having some waitress lean over and probably drop crumbs of your food onto their plates. Why do they do this? Is there a shortage of plates in LA, meaning that kitchens need to get them back and washed a.s.a.p? Is it a tactic for shaming slow eaters into chewing more quickly? Or are restaurants just trying to prove how attentive they are to your every service need by watching you like a hawk and sweeping in to take your plate away? If so, do they not realise that what I want more than fast service is a nice meal with my friends where everyone feels good at the end. This level of attentive service does not make one feel comfortable; it makes you feel like you are a nuisance, merely a source of income to be fed and dispatched as soon as possible. It does not a pleasant dining experience make.

Then there are just the weird differences between life here and life in the motherland. At the supermarket in California (and probably the rest of the U.S.), there are two checkout girls/guys for every customer. One to add up the cost of the groceries (and to check your ID if you buy wine even though you are 26, and you have shopped at this store at least twice a week for the past 6 months), the other to pack your bags for you. That's right, chainstore supermarkets employ people to pack your bags for you. Scott laughed when I told him that we did this for ourselves in the UK, even in the upmarket stores. Strangely, this two people at the checkout lark seems to make the line go slower, not faster, as they tend to chat to each other. Probably makes their jobs a little less dull and shitty though.

Yet pop next door to get some fast food and you will discover that you fall into a world of pain and scornful looks if you fail to tidy away every bit of your meal and its packaging from the table when you leave. They don't employ people to clean the tables, apparently, and it's a huge social faux pas to leave your table dirty.


Smart U.S. innovation: supermarket loyalty cards (like a Tesco's clubcard or something) aren't actually cards, but a small bit of plastic that you attach to your keyring. They give you about 6 when you sign up, so all your family can collect points on the same account. They're light to carry around, hard to lose and use less plastic. Why does England not have such things? Or has this happened since I've been gone?

UPDATE: I have been informed that these have existed in the U.K. for ages and I have just been an idiot and never noticed. I clearly pay much more attention to grocery shopping in the states than I ever did back at home...

Oh dear god. I think I might've just written the most boring journal entry in the world. It's okay, the next one'll be more exciting. I still have to write about the Griffith Park fire (last fortnight's near-death experience) which should be slightly more entertaining for anyone who actually reads this...