Media and marketing Clive Simpkins
THE frequent dissonance between corporate advertising and coal-face contact with an organisation is fascinating. Pretoria, over several months last year, ran a series of press ads designed to woo and seduce the sceptical into accepting it as the home of our Tutu-esque rainbow nation parliament. The campaign extolled the virtues of a host of city attractions, including its myriad eateries.
I have of late had several evening meetings in Ipitoli and on each occasion have been left marvelling at the supreme arrogance and shoddiness of the service in bistros, coffee bars, and restaurants.
My award for the worst service and response to service complaints goes to Sunny Park Shopping Centre’s Cafe Paradiso. I like quenching thirsts with cola tonic and sodawater. I’ve been to obscure corners of this land and never yet been unable to obtain it, except in Cafe Paradiso. I was told to “stick only to drinks shown on the menu”. The impatient and distant waitress did not introduce herself and was clearly more concerned with the impact of tossing her masses of Lady Guinnevere- like crimped hair, than with customer care. When I suggested I might approach the barman directly to rustle up a cola tonic and soda, her off-handed response was, “Good luck!”.
Being a vegetarian and allergic to yellow cheese I asked Guinnevere what kind of cheese featured in the spinach quiche. She didn’t know and made no move to find out. When pressed, she flounced off with a sigh. Drawing a complete blank on the cheese ID parade, I finally switched to another item on the menu.
As I sat there, my thirst and ire grew and I chose to indulge in a little Simpkins speciality of the house, called hell-raising. I asked Guinnevere to call the manager. She disappeared and came back to say he was “rather busy”. Now in full fume I gave her my business card with the instruction to give it to the manager and tell him to get to my table immediately.
When he arrived (he’s the owner as well) he was even more arrogant and unaccommodating than she had been. My complaint about the waitress’ studied indifference and unhelpfulness was invalid as “she was only a student”. He had been in the restaurant business for 34 years and was “famous” for his food. Never in all those years had anyone asked for a tonic cola (sic). He offered imported drinks, yes, but this tonic cola, no.
I hope parliament does some day move to Ipitoli. I hope lots of demanding black-skinned MPs and their staff descend on these insular little bastions of Calvinistic apartheid compliance and really give `em hell.
It’s a total waste of time spending money on an advertising campaign trying to market your city to the people when actual experience and delivery at the most fundamental level is in complete conflict with reality. After all, even Tant Malie se Winkel outside Hartbeespoort Dam tunnel serves cola tonic. Dream on Pretoria, your day cometh.