On my first visit to a gynaecologist in my teenage years, the receptionist asked me for my details. The reception was part of the waiting area so anyone could hear what was being said.

After shouting out my weight to her collegue who was sitting next to her, she asked out loud: ‘Int vergni jew le?’ Already uncomfortable with having everyone know how much I weighed, I stood there in disbelief.

She asked the question a second time and I mumbled, ‘Jimporta jekk nghid lit-tabiba meta nidhol ghal-vista?’ Thankfully, she didn’t ask a third time, but shrugged at me as if it was not a problem to refuse to let her and a dozen or so people – who were staring at me at this point – to know the details of my private life.

However, this didn’t stop some of my colleagues from assuming a moronic attitude behind the client’s back. I hated it: every time a client came in you could hear one of the staff complaining about it. Now how on earth would they have a job if no clients came in?

Then there were the rude comments about clients’ clothing, choices from the menu, spending potential and tipping – the smaller the tip, the greater the revenge.

Isn’t it time to change the stagnated mentality of being spoon-fed by the state? What about healthy competition at the place of work? What about a result-oriented work contract? It’d be the right change for certain employees.

I’d rather you hadn’t, considering what an awful reply it was.

1. Ristorante Casanova at Valletta Waterfront.
A couple of weeks ago, I went there ten minutes before closing time. Not only was I greeted with courtesy and efficiency, and served a superb risotto in no time at all, I was even offered a coffee on the house. Brilliant!

2. Browns, still at Valletta Waterfront, where the barmaid (the epitome of charm and cleanliness – she polishes each glass before using it), seeing that I had run out of cash after my first espresso, offered me a second one and told me not to bother about the 1.50 Euro. I don’t know if it was on the house or if it was paid for out of her own pocket, but boy was I seduced by the service. Mmm, espresso!

Now both incidents involved foreigners, so they’re not the best of counterexamples. I should also mention the Maltese bus driver who brought my mobile phone back to the police station after I had lost it on his bus.

Then there’s O’Casey’s in Paceville, now sadly defunct and transformed into yet another fast food joint, where the (charming, er, foreign) barmaid made the best Pimm’s with lemonade I have ever tasted. And she’s not even British! One wonders what became of her.

The owner of the shop ‘shouting’.

Can imagine what his employees are like.

People like you are called “Grammar Nazis” and are, as a rule, encouraged to lighten up.

We all know that it’s naqra and not naqa, but we choose to write or say naqa because it’s quicker. Also, in this case, ‘naqa’ was used in a quote, so the author is more than justified in using ‘naqa’ instead of ‘naqra’.

shows that she’s from the Zabbar area

COULD YOU PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHEN ARE YOU GOING TO INSERT MY COMMENT REGARDING MY SHOP, COS YOU GAVE MRS MARLENE THE RIGHT TO MENTION MY SHOP AND SO FAR THIS RIGHT WAS NOT GRANTED TO ME.

JULIAN MICALLEF
NUVOLE