Early Edition with Kate Hawkesby

I went out for lunch to a cafe the other day and our table was served by a couple of waiters who all seemed to have a similar vibe about them. They just. Did. Not. Seem. To. Care. No smiling. No banter. No small talk or polite conversation.  Just this blank look on their faces. You sit there and think “did they hear me”? You ever so politely repeat yourself in case they didn’t.  But they did. They got it. There’s just no engagement. Face colder than a which's tit. No refills of your water. No "would you like another coffee? Like, hello!? Is anybody in there? Is anyone home? Why are you all moving so slowly? Shouldn’t you be rushing the joint taking orders and filling coffees?  When I was young it was drilled into us: when you’re waiting tables and taking orders. You work your way up from "dish pig" to front of House. You basically run round busy as a bee, trying to impress your boss, trying to win your guests over. Taking wagers of who might get a tip.  Can I help you, sir?  What more