Why I detest Duck & Waffle

As a teen in the 1980s I wrote repeatedly to Jim’ll Fix It begging to be in the next Duran Duran video. I was obsessed with high style, exotic looking neon-coloured cocktails and the idea of sipping Stolichnaya on a yacht with Simon and the boys. It was just so me. To this day I don’t know why Russell Mulcahy never called. I tried to create my own version of the scene, in my own inimitable Scottish underage drinking fashion, whilst on a school trip to Germany – this involved ordering copious rounds of Campari and orange and swanning around the bar during the ferry crossing, insisting, “This is what I always drink!” As an older, though no less gauche teen, I embraced the trend for lurid cocktails decorated with paper flamingos, while my hormones made me go mushy over Tom Cruise in Cocktail – flair bartenders are, after all, the grown up version of the Waltzer boys at the fairground.

Although I got over the blue curaçao and Cruise phase, a love of shallow luxe remained. As smart and discerning as I need to be on a daily basis, I’m aware that I’m an advertiser’s dream. I want to believe. I don’t want cream, I want extra thick organic cream from rare breed Jersey cows. I want to have luscious, longer lashes. When I go out of an evening I may not be hankering after the days of quease-inducing excess, when outrageous bar receipts were seen as prestige accessories, but I do want lovely things and to go to lovely places. It’s really not that hard: make me feel like I’m special and my undying loyalty and maxed out credit limit is all yours.

Given that seemingly simple quid pro quo, what is it with establishments who appear to see the customer as a bit player in their overblown egotistical fantasy world? In what business model does it make sense to treat us as an inescapable annoyance?

Which brings me to Duck & Waffle.

Everything about the space demands that you HAVE FUN. Which we did, but it was a Herculean task, because at every turn we encountered a staff member seemingly intent on ruining our evening

The UK’s highest restaurant opened in summer 2012 on the 40th floor of The Heron Tower, smack bang in the middle of the City of London. When planning a surprise birthday dinner for a friend, it seemed the perfect spot – exciting, glamorous and new to all. When the evening arrived we were duly dazzled by the ride up in the lightning-fast lift, and the glitz of nighttime London spread out below us. Duck & Waffle is big, noisy and flash, full of laughing crowds enjoying champagne cocktails – a 21^st century update on the classic big budget Duran Duran pop video – and everything about the space demands that you HAVE FUN. Which we did, but it was a Herculean task, because at every turn we encountered a staff member seemingly intent on ruining our evening.

First, the doorman, despite being told three times and promising faithfully he understood that dinner was a surprise, told the birthday girl as soon as she arrived what was planned for her. Then there was the other member of security, who insisted we had to “step aside” so he could escort a drunk man down in the lift before us, refusing to so much as acknowledge our efforts to explain that if we waited any longer, we’d miss the last train home.

As for the genuine menace offered in response to the request that the remains of a birthday cake be wrapped to take home… that must really take some practice

After seeing how drunk and obnoxious a fair few of the clientele at Duck & Waffle became, I developed some sympathy for the staff. That said, rolling your eyes and slapping my card down on the bar because I don’t take it from you fast enough after I’ve waited 20 minutes to be served, and just paid you an automatic 12% tip, isn’t going to endear you to me. Similarly, if you’re going to serve a preordered group sharing menu (actually pretty tasty and fairly good value), why spoil it by having it served by staff who either don’t know what each dish is, or whose best attempt at a description is “fish”? A customer asking for an alternative suggestion for a wine when the varietal ordered isn’t available shouldn’t be difficult; nor should cleaning up the wine you spilled on the table while serving. As for the genuine menace offered in response to the request that the remains of a birthday cake be wrapped to take home… that must really take some practice.

I’d like to think that this was a one off bad night but despite their Twitter feed being pretty active with replies to positive tweets, mine expressing disappointment received no acknowledgement. Perhaps this is what it would have been like on that yacht after all. Perhaps cherry ice cream smiles are not actually that nice up close. C

Heron Tower, 110 Bishopsgate, London EC2N 4AY, United Kingdom
020 3640 7310; duckandwaffle.com

Michelle Scott is one of the directors of The Spirits Bureau. What she doesn’t know about whisky isn’t worth knowing