This is a rant.  Don’t read it if you’re already feeling down.

Last night I had a bad experience at the Upperstar in town.  If it was an isolated incident I would probably have thought nothing of it, but it was the final straw in a series of straws.  And I’m afraid to say Upperstar’s star is dimming.

I have a chip on my shoulder about the poor service that I generally encounter in Kota Kinabalu. Sometimes I launch into minute-long tirades about how tourists must be very disappointed with service in KK, because it’s just not like what you find back home / the UK / Thailand / Singapore / how mom makes it.

Even some well-known 5-star hotels suffer this service apathy. Have all the great Sabahan service staff really migrated to KL / Dubai / Singapore?

At the start of the year I raved about the new Upperstar in Damai. But I’ve long since stopped going there, because tragically it was a case of new-broom-sweeps-cleanest.  Some months back when my usually-soft-and-tasty burito foldover came out brittle-crispy and semi-burnt, I had to admit to myself that the cheap food and beer has stopped justifying the slow, unattentive service and mediocre food.

The Upperstar in town lasted a little longer, but the last few times I was there with friends, the service staff were slow to notice us, slow to produce our order and otherwise quite uninterested.  Still, the cheap beer and predictable food has appeal.

Last night Julia and I cruised through KK, pizza on the mind.  Yesteryear Cafe, Little Italy, Upperstar?  Or perhaps rice, meat and veggie at Ang’s Hotel, a new Philippino place we tried in Api Api, Devi’s Corner or The Place?

It’s not like there’s a limited number of places to eat in KK, competition should be fierce.  I leaned towards Yesteryear Cafe, the food isn’t that great, but they do the best Hinava and Ikan Basung I’ve ever had and the service is OK.  Our plans were thwarted by a black-out which struck that part of town though.

Eventually we decided on Upperstar.  Up-stairs we had a look around for a place to sit, about 4 or 5 tables were occupied, obviously a slow night. We passed 3 waiters to sit at a booth in the middle of the restaurant, they were standing around doing nothing in particular.

Then we waited.

And wiated.

And waited some more.

Perhaps as an experiment we didn’t call anybody over.  Perhaps as an experiment they didn’t come over themselves.

A good 7 minutes later, we had spent our patience and headed for the door. And 7 minutes is a lifetime when you’re waiting for somebody to come up and say “hey, welcome, thank you for brining your business to our establishment, here’s a menu, what can I get you?”

“We were sitting there for a long time and nobody came up to even give us a menu”, said Julia on her way out.  The waiter looked pretty much like his colleagues – could have been a uniform – rapper hat pushed down over an unkempt mop of hair, shirt sloppily hanging over his ass-ster baggy jeans.  His hair was orange.

He walked away from her without making eye contact and when he passed her he rolled his eyes, shrugged and mumbled something which might as well have been “what do I care, I get paid for being here, not for who eats here”.

His attitude slightly infuriated me and I approached a waiter standing by the bar.  Same description except black, not orange, hair.  “Where’s your manager?”, I asked him.  Without looking at me he pointed at another waiter of the same description as himself, having what looked like an argument over a bill with a table of 6.  “Oh my god, that’s your manager?”, I asked, mostly to myself, realising that whatever point I thought I was going to make to the manager was obviously just pie in the sky.

We left. Nobody cared.

Still hungry and not in the mood for feeling like we’re not wanted, we headed to Little Italy.  They, like a few other gems in KK, are the shining example of what service in KK could be.  Sure, they’re a little expensive, but damn they treat people like customers and not only that, they make you feel really welcome.

Needless to say we were satisfied by both food and service by the end of the night.

I can’t help wonder though why the service in one place can be in such contrast to service in the next.  Is it the salary of the waiting staff? Is it the pride of the people? Is it the arrogance of restaurant owners who think they can skimp on staff wages and training, give poor service to their customers and still sustain a business?

Perhaps the automatic inclusion of a 10% service charge should be dropped from bills all together, so that service staff can learn to up their game in order to get a tip. Perhaps the tourism authorities should conduct anonymous customer surveys to keep restauranteurs on their toes.

Or perhaps we all should take our money to where it’s wanted, until the rest realise they can’t take customers for granted.

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