I've been asked a few times recently why I don't post any bad reviews about restaurants. My answer to that was, “Why would I?” I do this in my spare time and I do it to keep a log of the wonderful food I've had. If I don't feel something is worth my time writing about, then I just don't write about it. Unless of course, it was so completely awful that I must let people know, so they don't waste their money. Which makes this post a bit of a weird one – it's somewhere in between.
I occasionally dart up the street to the Scone Witch for some fresh, warm and delicious scones. I love their feta, herb and onion, and oatmeal scones the best. I can never make up my mind so usually end up buying all three and sharing them. I love everything about the little shop on Albert street, except for one thing that unfortunately remains consistent – the service.
Ok, maybe not the actual service per se, they hand me the scones I ask for. But never with a smile. Never a thank you. Never a bit of emotion that would make me feel happy about buying the scones. If anything, I've often felt as though I was doing them a major disservice being there. Just this Saturday, a small line-up of people stood outside the door that clearly said open at 8am. They saw us there, they even started setting up the chairs at the tables while we stood and waited, and they did this ever-so-slowly. By 8:10am they finally decided to open the door and let us in. And rather than apologize for the wait, the girl mumbled good morning, without a smile or any eye contact. Is it really that bad to work there? I have to wonder. It's not that they opened late, it's how they did it that troubled me.
It wasn't until some other people confirmed my belief (that the staff just wished you weren't there), having experienced the same thing time and again, that I finally decided to write about it. It's too bad that they have to take their name so literally.