‘Name?’ ‘Kinderman. I booked a table two weeks ago,’ I tell the head waiter, who is disguised as the perfect officer and gentleman. He clicks the nib of his cheap plastic biro in and out as he scans the pages of illegible entries in his thick reservations book in search of my name. I would have preferred to be greeted with a ‘Welcome’ or, ‘Good evening, madam, sir.’ After all, tonight is not just any old night. Tonight I’m taking the woman of my dreams out. But it doesn’t look as though it’s going to be a dream evening.

Once the other guests have had ample opportunity to give us the once-over, the head waiter finally manages to read his own handwriting, leads us to our table and immediately presents us with two bulky menus. ‘The wine list’ he adds and places this five-page Bible on my side of the table.

Just as I am starting a conversation with my companion, a nervous-looking young man appears at our table and asks, ‘Bread?’ Once we have each selected one of the 13 different sorts of bread available, I want to resume our conversation, but I can’t for the life of me remember what it was I had been about to ask my girlfriend. We have just begun to chat about something else when the officer and gentleman turns up at our table again. His eyes firmly fixed on the pad in his hand, he scribbles something (probably our table number), then raises his gaze and peers at us over the edge of his glasses, though it looks more like he is raising his eyebrows, and asks, ‘Are you ready to order?’ Of course we are neither ready to order nor are we feeling very much at ease. Some strange sort of stress transference is taking place. People keep approaching our table with new offers: ‘Mineral water?’ ‘Butter?’ ‘Have we taken your order?’ It seems impossible that we are ever going to be able to have a private conversation.

‘Why do you keep whispering?’ ‘I don’t know,’ I whisper back. What I do know, on the other hand, is exactly what is going to happen in the next few minutes. I know with absolute certainty that a waiter is going to approach our table with two plates of appetizers we have not ordered and present them with the words: ‘With the compliments of the chef!’ In such restaurants, I always bet with my colleagues that this will happen, and believe me, I always win! Someone must have invented the phrase, and as they are so innovative in the catering business, it is shamelessly copied all over the country.

‘How would you like your tournedos, sir?’ the waiter asks automatically when I order my main course. But no one asked me whether I would like the lamb carpaccio on mustard shoots that are presented ‘with the compliments of the chef’. As I look around the restaurant, I see a mixture of guests – businesspeople, families, couples – but they all receive exactly the same treatment, although I would have thought that their requirements could not have been more different.

Exasperated when the waiter nips my declaration of love in the bud for the third time, I ask for the bill and spend more time waiting for and paying it than we have taken to eat our entire meal. We get into my car, deposit the menthol sweets they brought with the bill in the ashtray and drive home. No one disturbs us by playing a lacklustre version of ‘New York, New York’ for the second time, no one interrupts us to inquire ‘Dessert?’ A soft ‘ding-dong’ tells me that the frozen raspberries in the microwave are defrosted. And the two of us stand in the kitchen enjoying our vanilla ice cream with warm raspberries. And suddenly I remember what it was I had been going to ask the love of my life three hours previously.

Amazingly good!

In a Zurich restaurant, guests are asked when they book a table,  ‘How much time do you have for your lunch?’ The waiter then guarantees that they will get the bill on time and won’t have to wait another 20 minutes. This is particularly helpful for businesspeople who don’t have much time to spare. At a US restaurant chain, you can place a sign on the table signifying that you are ready for the next course or would like the bill.

Another restaurant confirms bookings via SMS: ‘We look forward to welcoming you as our guest this evening. We have reserved a table for four for you at 8 pm.’ ‘A table for two for breakfast, please,’ I requested when I checked in at my hotel. When the waiter showed us to our table the next morning, we found a card that read: ‘We have the pleasure of reserving this table for Julio Kinderman and Ralph Hubacher, two gentlemen who know that a successful day begins with a good breakfast.’

In the United States, I met a very special waiter. He has noticed that many of the coats that the guests hand to him have torn hang loops. Whenever he can spare the time, he has taken to sewing these loops back on with thread of the appropriate colour. Not everyone notices, but those guests who do tell others about it. What exceptional service!

I could hardly believe my eyes when I walked onto the terrace of a restaurant in the mountains and found a set of binoculars on every table. The manager approached our table and said: ‘Please do feel free to enjoy our breathtaking view. On your tablemats, you will find a map of the whole region to help you identify the landmarks you can see.’

A restaurant in Honolulu catering mainly to businesspeople has special white paper tablecloths on which guests can take notes over their lunch and then take them back to the office. This would be a great idea for family restaurants, too. A restaurant in Cologne offers its customers a time guarantee: if the lunchtime meal they order is not on the table in 15 minutes, the guests get their meal free of charge.