Good Food, Bad Service
There is a very specific kind of disappointment that comes with eating an excellent meal in a restaurant that leaves you with no desire to ever return. It is the sort of experience that feels particularly frustrating because, technically, the hardest part has already been done well. The food is good. Sometimes, it is genuinely exceptional. The flavours are balanced, the ingredients fresh, the presentation thoughtful, and for a brief moment, you are reminded why dining out can be such a pleasure. But then the memory of everything surrounding that meal comes rushing back. The long stretch of time before anyone even acknowledged your table. The repeated attempts to get someone’s attention. The drink that never arrived until you reminded them twice. The request for something simple that somehow became a complicated ordeal. And suddenly, what should have been a satisfying dining experience becomes something else entirely.
In Lagos, dining out is no longer simply about food. Restaurants have become extensions of our social lives. They are where birthdays are celebrated, business deals are discussed, friendships are maintained, relationships are tested, and increasingly, where people go simply to exhale after particularly demanding weeks. A dinner reservation today is often as much about atmosphere and experience as it is about what appears on the plate. People are paying not just for ingredients and labour, but for service, ambience, comfort, efficiency, and the emotional experience of being in that space. Which is why poor service tends to feel like such a glaring betrayal, especially when everything else appears to have been so carefully considered.
There is something almost fascinating about the disconnect that exists in some restaurants. You walk into a beautifully designed space with carefully curated interiors, flattering lighting, expensive furniture, polished branding, and a menu that clearly took time to put together. Sometimes the prices themselves are enough to establish expectation before the first order is even placed. Everything about the setting communicates a certain promise. And then a member of staff approaches your table and immediately begins to dismantle that illusion.
Perhaps they seem visibly uninterested in being there. Perhaps they answer questions vaguely, without any real knowledge of the menu they are supposed to represent. Perhaps there is an unmistakable impatience in the way they respond, as though your presence has somehow created an inconvenience. Sometimes the issue is not outright rudeness but a kind of detached indifference that can be just as frustrating. The waiter who disappears for long stretches after taking your order. The staff member who notices you trying to get attention and deliberately looks away. The plates that arrive so unevenly that one person begins eating while everyone else waits awkwardly. The bill that takes an eternity to arrive, even after you have clearly indicated you are ready to leave.
Individually, some of these may seem like minor irritations. Together, they shape the entire emotional memory of the meal.
What many restaurants fail to fully appreciate is that service is not separate from the dining experience. It is part of the product itself. People do not mentally isolate the food from the feeling of being in the restaurant. The two become inseparable. You can serve an outstanding meal, but if the experience surrounding it leaves a customer feeling ignored, dismissed, or mildly irritated, that emotional residue becomes part of the story they tell about your establishment.
How often have you heard someone say, “The food was actually really nice, but I did not like how they handled things there”? That sentence alone can kill repeat business. It can also quietly damage reputation in a city where recommendations, casual conversation, and increasingly social media, shape where people choose to spend their money.
And the truth is, the issue often goes beyond one difficult interaction or one bad day. In many cases, it reflects a deeper hospitality problem.
A noticeable number of restaurants across Lagos, and frankly across Nigeria, appear to invest significantly more in aesthetics and visibility than in actual service culture. Social media campaigns are polished. Influencers are invited. Interiors are beautifully photographed. Menus are carefully branded. But when it comes to the people who directly interact with paying customers, there often seems to be a troubling gap in training and operational consistency.
Hospitality is a profession. Good service is not something people instinctively know how to provide simply because they have been hired into a restaurant. Staff should understand menu details. They should know how to explain dishes, answer ingredient questions, make recommendations, and communicate delays clearly. They should understand timing, tone, customer awareness, and the basic etiquette of making guests feel welcome rather than burdensome.
Yet too often, what customers encounter feels improvised.
This is not to ignore the realities of hospitality work. Anyone living in Lagos understands how exhausting daily life can be. Long commutes, difficult working conditions, demanding customers, understaffed shifts, operational pressure, and the general stress of urban life can wear anyone down. Hospitality work is emotionally demanding because it requires patience, composure, and attentiveness even on difficult days.
But this is exactly why strong systems matter.
The solution cannot simply be to excuse poor service because staff are tired. Customers are tired too. Many are arriving after equally stressful days, paying significant amounts of money for a few hours of comfort or enjoyment. Good hospitality training exists precisely to help staff navigate pressure professionally without transferring frustration onto guests.
Interestingly, diners are often far more understanding than restaurants assume.
Most people do not expect perfection. Kitchens get overwhelmed. Mistakes happen. Orders can delay. Drinks get forgotten. What people usually want is not flawless execution but basic communication and a sense that someone actually notices what is happening.
A simple apology can change the tone of an entire evening. A brief explanation about kitchen delays can immediately reduce frustration. A staff member checking in thoughtfully rather than disappearing entirely can make customers far more patient.
What people struggle with most is silence. Feeling ignored. Feeling invisible. Feeling like their presence is an inconvenience rather than the very reason the business exists.
And then, of course, there are the exceptional hospitality professionals who remind you what good service actually feels like. The staff member who remembers what you asked for without being prompted. The one who makes genuinely helpful recommendations because they know the menu inside out. The person who notices an issue before you even have to mention it and quietly resolves it.
Those experiences stay with people too.
Interestingly, the restaurants that inspire loyalty are not always the most expensive or trendiest. Often, they are simply the ones where people feel looked after. The places where service feels warm, attentive, and consistent. Where staff make customers feel welcome rather than tolerated.
Because if we are being honest, most diners are not necessarily looking for luxury. They are looking for competence, courtesy, and respect.
And in today’s world, where one poor dining experience can instantly become public conversation through Instagram stories, TikTok reviews, X threads, or endless WhatsApp group discussions, service standards matter even more than they once did.
Restaurants spend considerable energy creating visually appealing spaces because they understand the value of first impressions. But first impressions are only part of the equation. A beautiful restaurant may attract curiosity once. It is service that determines whether customers ever return.
Because at the end of the day, no matter how memorable the food may be, people rarely remember only what they ate. They remember how they were treated while eating it.
Spice, Smoke and Story is a food column by Funke Babs-Kufeji, telling her love story for cooking and food in Nigeria, while exploring everything from restaurant reviews and recipes to fine dining, hosting, and the culture that shapes how we eat.
@bafunkebabskufeji
funkebabskufeji@thisdaylive.com
