Ralph Oswick: No room at the inn – whatever the app says

Isometimes think the modern world with all its technology is a dispiriting place. Not just the fact that everyone constantly stares at their mobile phones, though that’s bad enough.

Having successfully got through two weeks of great comedy at the hastily prepared Permission to Laugh mini fest, we decided to go out for a celebratory meal. We headed to our chosen establishment, which was a long walk for me, what with my dodgy knees.

My pals went ahead, but no sooner had they disappeared into the restaurant, they came out again. Apparently, they weren’t accepting walk-ins that evening, we would have to book through their website.

So, we hot-footed it to the pub next door, and from all of 50 feet away we booked a table online. When the appointed time arrived (around 20 minutes later) we trooped back to the restaurant. “Sorry, we’re full.” “But we’ve booked a table,” we protested, waving our electronic proof. All to no avail. Just a lot of screen poking on both sides.

We didn’t try “Don’t you know who we are?” as all the staff were under 30 and would thus have absolutely no reason whatsoever to know our lofty status as influencers. We did try the “We know the owner” tactic, which was fair enough, as one of us was vaguely acquainted with him. At the mention of his name, the two members of staff started arguing whether we could be fitted in or not.

The prevailing answer was not. So, we went to a nearby eatery, walked straight in and had a lovely meal.

I know it’s a first world problem, there are people starving out there. But a simple invitation to wait at the bar until a table became available would have sufficed. An actual conversation instead of having to beam through the ether via a satellite. Frowning at flickering little screens and saying, to steal a catchphrase, “The computer says no!” does not count as hospitality.

And what’s with these pesky app things? At a big pub near Bath my companion and I were told to find a table (in this case, past the auxiliary car park and behind some shrubbery) and download the app. This gave us not only a glowing but obviously superfluous description of where we were, but also displayed the menu. We then had to text in our order. I suppose we should have roped in a passing child to help us, as neither of us had ever dealt with anything as technical as an app. It was all too stressful.

Eventually our meals arrived as if by miracle from somewhere far, far away and very nice they were too. We gave up on ordering more drinks, a task way beyond our skillset. I think we managed to pay. At least we waved our bank cards vaguely phonewards. Nobody has come demanding cash, and by now they must know where we live, and probably everything else about us!

All that for a couple of portions of chicken and chips!