To some, the widely accepted form of ‘generalisations’ or more socially acceptable and politically correct form of ‘social profiling’; to ‘others’ (usually meaning the ‘subject of them’), the device for saving a biased person the trouble of learning. I’ll leave it for you to decide where, on such a scale, you would place the likes of “East is East” or ” Apu” from the Simpsons and buck the usual trend by providing some stereotypes of our very own:
If you are students, especially in groups over 15, you want separate bills. And not ‘split equally’ type bills, but ‘itemised-to-the-half-pappadum-and-spoonful-of-mango-chutney-and-indian-salad-only’ type bills.
If you are a group of women, you’ll assume that your waiter or host is hitting on you every time he politely asks whether you would like another Diet Coke or how you’re finding your meal that evening. We’re so unashamedly flirtatious at times. Its cringe-worthy.
If you are the only asian in the pack, especially on your first trip to the restaurant, you become to the others what Messi is to football. But when you order Chicken Korma or better still, speak a few words of Urdu to showcase your talents, we have a little giggle to ourselves. I can’t explain why.
If you are a self-professed connoisseur, you boast about how many Indian restaurants you have frequented in your time as if each were a badge of merit although, truth be told, each was more likely to be an “open-till-late-curry-house” more than your typical fine-dining “restaurant” emphasised that little bit more when you express your disgust as to why the “authentic” delicacies offered by your local Kurry-in-a-Hurry Takeaway aren’t on offer at my restaurant. “But you’re an Indian restaurant, aren’t you?”
And finally, if you are a group of Asians, I’m near tears. In an almost presidential-like manner, you’ll expect to be seated as a priority regardless of you not making a reservation, just how busy the restaurant is or how many people are waiting before you. Somewhat ironically, you’ll spend 5 times longer clarifying your order, how much butter you would like on your Tandoori Naan or how many cubes of ice you would like in your jug of tap water and then go on to order only one main to share between 8, find yourself needing another and then complain when it takes us yet another fifteen minutes to prepare it for you. You’ll be offended if I refuse your request for free papadums and limitless supply of fresh chutney, Indian salad, dips and lime pickle or for you to bring with you the 8 or so Happy Meals you purchased earlier for the children in your group. And no matter how many times you return to my restaurant, and my restaurant alone, you will complain about every.. little.. thing – and I so very reluctantly entertain you because (and only because) certain others perceive your presence to “validate” my restaurant as if the sensation on their taste-buds alone were never enough.
thefamilyrestaurant 