Why I hope welcoming, human touch of hospitality can survive the pandemic - Jayne Dowle

Now that we have to rely so much on booking online, downloading apps and scanning Q codes to secure even a table for two and a sandwich, I hope the human touch can survive.

I read recently that middle-aged pub and restaurant customers are being ‘‘humiliated’’ by “app disciples’’ banning them from entry without the NHS Covid-19 app – despite Government rules saying it is not compulsory.

Older customers – that’ll be me then – who haven’t downloaded it to their phones are being turned away, despite the Government’s own guidance stating that the app should not be a pre-condition of entry. It’s reported that one chap was even banned from a supermarket coffee shop.

Can we really have come to this in just a few short months since lockdown eased? I’ve been doing my bit since August, when we took full advantage of the Chancellor’s Eat Out to Help Out scheme during our UK road trip holiday.

How I remember with fondness the hour or so I spent in the hotel room at Lytham St Annes desperately trying to book a place for dinner online on our first night.

After breaking the news to the family that it was looking like a take-away, my husband picked up the phone and rang the chain pub I’d rather haughtily discounted. Table for four sir? No problem. Within half an hour, we were seated and tucking into our starters, being looked after by a twinkly bar manager well past his first flush of youth.

I’ll compare this to our enjoyable but illuminating trip out for a birthday meal last weekend. This was to a restaurant in town, where booking ahead online is obligatory. There were four of us; me, my husband and teenage son and daughter.

Without boring you with an explanation of our family dynamics, the teenagers are mine biologically and my husband is their step-father. On all our travels, even through passport control – remember that? – we’ve never had an issue, even though we share three different surnames and Lizzie stands out amongst us because she’s blonde and blue-eyed.

Until now. First the perfunctory young female greeter interrogated us about the NHS app. My husband shot me a warning glance and scribbled down our names, address and telephone number before I could launch into a rant about its failings.

Then, this young woman, employed presumably for her skills in customer relations, looked us all up and down and said: “Are you from two separate households?” Perhaps I was being defensive, but living through a pandemic does this to you. When I last checked the rules, even if we were ‘‘two separate households’’ we would be allowed to sit down in a foursome and eat, walking carefully through the restaurant to our table in face masks of course, keeping two metres apart from everyone else.

I think it’s no business – even under Covid rules – of a stranger to ask that sort of question of paying customers. I shot back “No, we’re married” and we sat down.

The food was good, but the wine list non-existent. As in so many places nowadays, if you want to look at it, you have to 
go online. Is a print-out too much to ask? Or, as the chippy young waiter replied when we took my parents out recently, “it’s on the app”. My dad raised an eyebrow. He believes this signing up to apps and so on is just a way to gather data for nefarious purposes.

When I’d told the app my name, address, email address, telephone number and date of birth, I was granted full access and felt as if I’d given half my life away in return for a glass of wine. I wondered, not for the first time this year, whatever happened to those stringent GDPR (General Data Protection Regulation) rules we were all supposed to abide by.

I don’t want to faff about with my smartphone trying to work out which bottle of rosé to order. I’d rather look at the list with my dining companions and weigh up the options carefully than squinting at a screen through my reading glasses. Also, phones at the table are rude, as I constantly remind my children.

Our hospitality industry needs our support more than ever, and for this all customers must be made to feel welcome, regardless of age, personal circumstances or technical ability. Too often these days, I feel like a hopelessly old-fashioned dinosaur. And we all know what happened to them.

Support The Yorkshire Post and become a subscriber today.

Your subscription will help us to continue to bring quality news to the people of Yorkshire. In return, you’ll see fewer ads on site, get free access to our app and receive exclusive members-only offers.

So, please - if you can - pay for our work. Just £5 per month is the starting point. If you think that which we are trying to achieve is worth more, you can pay us what you think we are worth. By doing so, you will be investing in something that is becoming increasingly rare. Independent journalism that cares less about right and left and more about right and wrong. Journalism you can trust.

Thank you

James Mitchinson