Wicked Service!

I have a memory of driving down Hemlock Street on my way downtown and seeing a small cafe claiming to be wicked and to have great waffles. Even more intriguing to me than its odd location - just a block away from somewhere yet decidedly nowhere - was that combination of wickedness and waffle. That's not a combination you see every day.

Well, unless you drive along Hemlock every day.

The Wicked Cafe

Anyways, I gave it a try. The waffles are indeed wicked and they're nothing like what I expected. They have some sugar crusted on them so you just eat them toasted as a yummy snack; held in your hand like any other pastry. They're not breakfast waffles.

But it's the coffee I come back for. Mmm... They sell a brand called Intelligentsia Coffee. The blend I've settled on is called El Diablo and it's the yummiest thing on the planet. I'll kill ya if ya say otherwise! If you look up the El Diablo page on their website, the coffee blend that they "also recommend" is El Diablo! It's that good!

What I don't necessarily come back for is the service. Don't get me wrong. It's not consistently bad. It's hit and miss. The last time I went there I got an interesting mix of hit and miss in one go, and it was relevant to my life in a surprising way.

My wife is Japanese. For those who have been to Japan, perhaps you'll know just how big they are on service. So much so that the biggest culture shock for my wife when she moved here was the terrible service. There were a few times early on when she was almost in tears after being rudely sneered at and dismissed by a salesperson. A salesperson!

For the sake of balance, I should perhaps point out that the Japanese may be taking things a bit too far when they have toilets say kind things to you.

Okay, so a few days ago I went to the Wicked Cafe to buy some El Diablo and a waffle for my wife. There were three people working: A Canadian woman at the till; a Canadian man as the barista; and a Japanese woman who was on her break at the time, sitting at a table with a drink and a sandwich. I went up to the counter where I was promptly ignored. The woman at the till was dancing back and forth, humming tunelessly, looking up at the ceiling. I stood directly in front of her, watching. This went on for - I kid you not - a minute before the barista interrupted her little service dance for my sake. (I was too bemused to speak up.)

She seemed surprised to see me there, although she can't not have seen me. I'm six feet tall, wider than I should be, and I was wearing all black in a bright room. I was standing no more than two feet away from her. So she started to take my order, but she gets it wrong. Apparently, "ground for a paper cone filter" sounds like "medium coffee" to her and I almost got my beans un-ground and a coffee I didn't want. The waffle is to be toasted and it's to-go.

It got sorted eventually and the Japanese woman on her break came over to grind the coffee for me. The Canadian girl took my money and started to take orders from other people. In a minute or so, I got my ground beans from the Japanese woman and she went back on her break.

I waited for the waffle.

And waited.

And waited.

After about ten minutes (I had decided to just keep waiting to see if the Canadian woman would notice that I was still standing in the middle of the cafe, staring at her - she didn't) the Japanese woman, who from time to time would look over at me - got up and went to talk to the Canadian woman. Canadian woman asked me, "Is there something you're waiting for?" "Yes," I said, "my waffle". She had, of course, forgotten and she apologized. She asked me if I would like a cookie.

I'd pay good money to get a photo of my face at that moment.

I told her I just want my waffle and then I sat down. I don't remember this part clearly, but I'm reasonably certain the Japanese woman got out the waffle and put it in the toaster. I do remember that she (not the Canadian woman) came out with a special new menu item (waffle sandwich with teriyaki chicken) for me to eat while I was waiting. (It was good. And free.) She was also the one who brought out the waffle for me and apologized profusely in the end.

To recap: as far as I can tell, the only thing that the Canadian woman did was take my money. Everything that was done service-wise was done by the Japanese woman who was on her break.

Worth the Wait