Always Look Down

If it takes one thing to be a waiter in Thailand, it’s the ability to always look down while navigating even the busiest of restaurants. I say this because in nearly every restaurant I have been to here, the waiters, waitresses, staff, cashiers, and anyone who might be in any way connected with the operation of the restaurant has an almost uncanny ability to avoid eye contact. Their eyes will slowly pan across the room, and just as they’re about to inevitably make contact with your eyes along that path, their eyes will suddenly jump and shift so that they are now almost impossibly panning along the remainder of the room without having crossed your gaze.

In the West, your waiter will be by the table at regular intervals. Indeed, small signs like the position of your silverware will get your plate whisked away, often times so subtlety that you are surprised when you notice it’s gone. Glasses are regularly refilled with water and the desert menu is unavoidably presented at the end of the meal. With this as context, one of the rudest things you can do as a diner is to wave a waiter down or even more unforgivably whistle or call for a waiter to server your table.

Here in Thailand it’s almost expected that you will have to call loudly to ever get a waiter’s attention. Indeed, just last night I sat with my hand up, like a child in class who knows the answer, trying to flag down a waitress for more than five minutes. She ran past the table two or three times and I could have sworn, simply to avoid hitting the table, would have had to look up, but not so. She was able to avoid my waving hand and any sort of eye contact with not much as a missed step.

In increasing desperation, I finally managed to get the cashier’s attention and beckon her over to the table. She was very hesitant to walk the whole distance, looking around several times to make sure that I was in fact waving at her. Finally, my persistent waving overpowered her reluctance, and she walked over to my table where I explained that I just wanted the check. She explained that that was not her job and that I should get the waitress for my table to handle that. I asked her if she wouldn’t mind passing the information along should she happen to bump into my waitress.

Ten minutes later, and still without the check, shrugging off all my upbringing, I called out, at first quietly, and then loudly and rudely to get anyone’s attention. That, finally, got the wheels for check production in motion. After a brief wait of only another ten minutes, the check was finally there. Great care was taken to produce exact change so that we wouldn’t have to wait for any.

If only this were a infrequent occurrence, I wouldn’t be writing about it, but it often gets so bad that my friends and I will try to negotiate who will be the boar yelling for service next time. If I’m eating with a Thai girl, I’ll often delegate the duty to them as they don’t seem to find yelling for service quite so uncomfortable as a Westerner.