Babs or the Soup Nazi—Must we choose?

There is a stark contrast between the service culture of the United States and of Germany as I have discovered in my nearly four months of living in the latter. It is quite risibly apparent that restaurants and bars are there as a gift to the customers, who should be grateful to be provided these services at exorbitant prices. The service industry of Germany is a godsend to the people and being friendly and inviting are simply not expectations of adequate service. Now I’m not one to say that I enjoy the overzealousness of American service where the waitress tells you her name—something to the effect of “Candy” or “Tracy”—with a massive grin that the Joker might wear as he terrorizes Gotham City and all the while making you think you’re in a horror film as she perpetually and unexpectedly pops out of nowhere to inquire in an eerie squawk, “Ya’ll doin’ okaaaaay?” This makes the experience feel like a cult initiation, but is being served by lurch any less creepy? 

The world is certainly a place of extremes. While you have Babs Bunny on the west of the Atlantic, you have the soup Nazis in the East, wordlessly throwing food and drink at you in exasperated response to the inconvenience caused by your orders. I’ll never forget a particular incident where I sat down with some friends at a train station café in Munich with the intention of ordering a cup of coffee or something to quench my thirst until our train arrived. Three minutes after sitting down, the waiter approached asking sternly for our orders to which I replied, “Ein Moment bitte.” He then turned abruptly to the next table—as I have wasted a couple of seconds of his time—to begin helping someone else there. Not one minute later, he returned once more with the same question to which I replied, after seeing the ridiculous price of 3.50 € for a glass of water, “Ein mehr Moment bitte.” I need a little more time to decide which beverage would be worth spending the equivalent to two double cheese burgers, fries and a coke at McDonald’s. However my friend ordered a cappuccino, since she was apparently ready to order. At this point, I’d rather obviously offended the fragile café waiter, for he stormed away, loudly announcing to his colleague that we had only ordered one drink between the three of us and that, as punishment, we could go elsewhere. We had not spent enough money in the four minutes that we had been seated and so we were disciplined by the almighty lord of hosts.  I was quite content to indulge his request.

Now I realize there are rather horrifying stories of distasteful service everywhere in the world, but I find the lack of desire to please the customer to be particularly characteristic of this side of the Atlantic. This is an ongoing dilemma in the Old World and it undoubtedly must be reformed. There needs to be a restaurant revolution, led by the people of Europe. Express intolerance for deficient service. Free yourselves from being treated like ordure. Force businesses to compete for you through better service and lower prices. Frankly, I find myself wondering how the majority of restaurants stay afloat here since even the most basic laws of service go unobserved.