Someone recently complained that the serving boy in a hotel dipped all his five fingers into a tumbler while fetching drinking water; this brought out the indignant repudiation from the manager, ‘How could he have had all the five fingers in? It must have bee only four. Otherwise he could not have carried the tumbler.’ This seems to me typical of the utter divergence in outlook between two sections of the present-day population: those who visit hotels and those who run them. Probably in order to improve the situation a questionnaire was sent out sometime ago, intended to catch all aspects of the problem. I believe when the
investigators attempted to elicit facts all that they got was complaints form the servers regarding work and wages, complaints from hotel-goers regarding quality, quantity, cost and everything. I think the committee gathered a voluminous quantity of paper, properly filled up. It is probably too early even to say what they will do with it.
Most people are miles away from their homes at tiffin time. This is a characteristic of urban life. Students, office-goers, businessmen, have no choice in the matter. It would be unthinkable for a man from Adyar working in First Line Beach to return home for his afternoon coffee; nor can he wait till the closing of his office. At office awaiting the tiffin-break is one of the pleasantest states of existence. When on returns to one’s desk an hour later chewing a beeda one has definitely acquired a pleasanter outlook. Now I would like to examine what has happened to the man between his leaving his office table and returning to it an hour later,. No doubt when he returns out friend is chewing betel leaves and looking the picture of satisfaction but he has been through a trial.
INTRODUCTION Methodology of Report The following report was derived from the primary use of secondary sources, in addition to telephone contact with hotel representatives. Secondary sources included research from the Internet, industry books, company marketing communications, trade and general business newspapers and magazines, among others. Through all the sources, relevant data and information ...
He goes to his favorite hotel as fast as his feet can take him, but he cannot enter it. He has to wait, then push his way through a file of others moving in, and finally stand in a corner scanning the hall for a vacant seat. It is most awkward standing there. He has a feeling of waiting for a dole. His trained eye catches someone at a table sipping the last few ounces of coffee in his cup. And our friend knows that the other will presently get up.
He cleverly slips through the crowd and approaches the about-to-be vacated chair cautiously; he does not like to appear too inquisitive about the other man’s movements lest it should look ungracious but hovers about the back of the chair with a look of unconcern while the man is enjoying the last drop. If the man at the table knows that his seat is wanted he will try to brave it for a while but will ultimately vacate it. Unable to bear the silent. Implacable pressure exerted by the one waiting behind him. If our friend id lucky- that is, if someone else more nimble-footed does not descend on the seat like a bolt from the blue-he can feel certain that he has won his seat. I don’t think any election candidate could reflect with greater gratification on his triumph.
When our friend gets his hard won seat, what happens? He looks at the time. Half-an hour wasted in manoeuvres alone. The sends of time are running low. He will have to be back soon at his office. He desperately tries to draw the attention of the man serving at his table as he catches glimpses, of him here and there. At this point one is reminded of the epitaph for a restaurant waiter, ‘God finally caught his eye.’ Finally, when the server comes, his demeanur may be affable or sour according to his constitution; but it is patent that he is extremely harassed and fatigued. If he should run amok he would knock down all plates and cups and Tiffin and tiffin-eaters as the greatest irritants in life…. But he asks formally, ‘ What do you want, sir?’ And then the counter -question, ‘What have you?’ It is a routine question that a hundred others have already asked although the whole menu- Sweets, Savoury, and Today’s Special – is chalked up on the board. The server mechanically repeats the catalogue of edibles at lightning speed, takes his order, and goes out of sight.
This story begins in the dark and scary Jungle, with a man named Bruce. He had a scary face with a metal plat covering it. Since his face was scared all the man did was, eat, sleep and chase the fastest cheetah in the world. One day, Bruce had a nice plan for him to catch the cheetah. The plan was, for Bruce to hide in a tall and wide tree and jump on the cheetah. Usually the Cheetah has the upper ...
As our friend awaits the arrival of his food he notices that his table is littered with used cups and plates and remnants left but other people, and as he eyes them distastefully, a tremendous cry rings out, ‘Table clean!’ and a man arrives with bucket overflowing with unwashed crockery and vessals reacher over the shoulder of our friend. Leaving him in acute suspense for safety of his clothes, and clears the table: he then rubs the table-surface with a very damp blue cloth. Which our friend would rather avoid looking at. There are a few other thing which he attempts to ignore while he is in the process of appeasing his hunger. He tries not to look at the wash-basin right across his table which sprays around a cast quantity of water as person after person comes up to wash his hands, some of them none-too-gently. The general nose in this hall is something that frays his nerves – the radio (somehow our restaurants seem to have stations to tune in to at all the twenty-four hours), the deafening clatter of vessels dumped out for cleaning. Somebody shouting orders to the kitchen shouting across of the bill amount,. Customers greeting each other….. thorough all this babble out friend can hardly make himself heard. He ignores the crack in the china cup which bears his coffee, and the notches and grease on the spoon given to him. He thinks these are minor terrors which ought to be borne patiently. When he carries his bill to the payment counter and the man there sticks it on a miniature harpoon on his table while sweeping the cash in, our friend is happy that he is out of all this trouble. Perhaps that’s why he wears such a merry look coming out of a restaurant.