Now that Natasha and I are no longer trialling different gyms around the city (we finally settled on joining the first one we tried), we have unintentionally found a new way to spend our evenings without spending the cash. Natasha is on a mission to turn around the poor Dutch service culture and I am, well, aiding and abetting her. ‘I think it is far better to let the restaurant know how appalling their service is than to write about it publicly on Tripadvisor,’ Natasha said, following a recent bad experience. ‘By letting them know, they get a chance to make amends.’ So we both emailed the restaurant-with-terrible-service and were invited to return for a complimentary three-course meal while being assured a different waiter would serve us.

Natasha took her mum. ‘I’ll let her know the details when she arrives in Amsterdam,’ she said. I, on the other hand, was having trouble finding someone to join me. ‘I don’t ever want to return to that restaurant,’ Hot Danish said.
‘What if the staff spit in our food,’ another friend said. In the end I waited until Natasha reported back on her vastly improved return visit before I made my booking.

Natasha’s next email complaint following chaotic service and a 40-minute wait after ordering lunch takeout had included suggestions such as preparing sushi boxes in advance and letting people know the wait before they make their order. The advice fell on deaf ears but our free lunch offer provided a good start to the week even after the manager offered to personally make our lunch before promptly disappearing.

The latest email complaint was sent after an evening spent in a basement bar full of mosquitoes. ‘When I mentioned that I had been bitten badly to the girl working in the cloakroom she let me know that it was a real problem,’ Natasha said while scratching her leg through her jeans. The following day she received an apology, an assurance that the mosquitoes would be dealt with and an offer of a complimentary bottle of sparking wine on her return visit. ‘How have you responded?’ I asked.
‘I thanked the GM for his offer but let him know I wouldn’t return,’ Natasha said, looking forlornly at the smudges of toothpaste peeking out of her fishnet tights. She has, however, since been offered a sideline in mystery shopping by an expat restaurateur. I’m looking forward to being her guest…