Saturday, August 8, 2009

Almost a Good Night Out

Saturday 25th July 2009
We managed to finish early at the Café today, it hadn’t been very busy so most of the cleaning had been done before we closed.
After work we decided to go out for a walk and a beer and chose to walk along the beach to Abbey Beach Resort, to see if it had got any better since the last time we went there.
We are going to have to give up expecting something pleasant when it comes to decent customer service, the grumpy git behind the bar must be put there to make sure the bar doesn’t get too busy.
We didn’t stay long and called a taxi to take us into town, the only reasonable option for somewhere to go for a drink in Busselton when it’s cold outside and you have a child in tow is the ship, sorry, Royal Palms as it is now.
We went to the Ship and went into the restaurant reception area where they have a quiet bar, as we walked up to the bar it was like walking through superglue, they had been watching the Dockers v Eagles game in there this afternoon and vast quantities of beer had been spilt.
We did mention it to the staff who said that it needed a mop, we thought no shit Sherlock, so they left it at that until after about an hour we told the manager, who got somebody to mop it up.
We stayed there for a couple of beers and a bite to eat and then called a taxi to take us home, when we asked how long it would be before the taxi arrived, they said it won’t be long.
Ian pointed out to the taxi people that it was very cold outside and that we didn’t want to be out there long, the telephonist said that it should be just a few minutes.
After a while of standing outside Ian rang again and asked how much longer it would be before the taxi arrived, the telephonist said she didn’t know how long so Ian asked her to ask the controller, she replied that she was the controller, had seven cars and two minibuses to look after and couldn’t possibly know when a taxi would be likely to pick up, she also said that we should go back inside the pub until the taxi arrived, but when Ian asked if the taxi driver would come in and find us, she said no.
Ian used to be a taxi controller in London years ago and used to have to look after between 30 and 40 cars on a Friday and Saturday night, so to hear this soppy mare going on about how it isn’t possible to know what seven cars and two minibuses are doing in a two horse town like Busselton is an absolute joke and an example of the standards of customer service that the people of WA accept as the norm.
Eventually, after standing out in the cold with a young child for ages, a taxi arrived and we managed to grab it before someone else who had been waiting for ages.
If it hadn’t been for the grumpy git at Abbey Resort and the wait in the cold with no idea of when our Taxi would arrive, it could have been a good night out.

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