FEEDBACK WITHOUT THE BACK…
A few days ago, I was having lunch with a friend at one of the island’s most renowned establishments — I won’t mention the name to avoid influencing future opinions or judgments, especially since I believe no place should be judged on a single visit.
From the moment we sat down, it took 20 minutes for the waiter to approach us, another 10 to receive the menu, and another 10 to place our order. To sum up: we arrived at 2 p.m., and the first course didn’t arrive until more than an hour later.
Luckily, the company was more than pleasant, so I didn’t mind the (lost) time — until it came time for coffee. After sitting for nearly two hours — and since I’m not the kind to wave down staff with hand gestures or raised voices — I politely asked the waiter for two coffees as he passed by our table. His reaction caught me off guard. Without even turning around, and with his back to us, he shouted: “One minute!”
There’s a time and a place for everything — and for us, that had been a long and drawn-out wait. But what truly bothered me wasn’t that moment itself, or all the others like it — it was the tone he used.
The coffees (bitter) eventually arrived along with the bill (steep), and so did my desire to go home and write my liberating revenge: a scathing Tripadvisor review.
After all, I had invested time and money in what was supposed to be a monumental dining experience — and instead, it turned into delays and discourtesy. Especially frustrating, given how difficult it had been to book the table for the time they preferred, since the week was practically full.
However, my friend — a seasoned connoisseur of Palma’s dining scene — told me we had just been “unlucky” and seated in the wrong spot. He’s a regular there, and said the experience didn’t reflect the reality of the place or its staff. In fact, both the food and drinks were of high quality, and perhaps this was just an “off day.”
Even so, I still felt the urge to write a bad review to punish what I saw as injustice.
As I drove home, I remembered the wonderful trip we’d taken to Italy and the many amazing places we’d visited — none of which I had reviewed or celebrated online. We’d had a magnificent time, but I hadn’t felt the need to express that publicly. Yet now, after a negative experience, my hands were ready on the keyboard to pass judgment.
It’s true what they say: you tell one person about a good experience, but ten about a bad one.
Later that day, as I sat at my computer, I weighed my thoughts. I tucked the harsh words away, closed my metaphorical mouth, and instead tried to remember the name of that beautiful castle in Italy — Semivicoli — so I could finally write a glowing five-star review.
Sadly, in a world that moves at lightning speed, where we have less and less time for ourselves, a bad experience (especially an expensive one) doesn’t feel like a scam — it feels like stolen time, the very thing we chase after. Second chances often don’t exist, simply out of fear of being let down again.
But one important thing I learned from this experience is this:
when bad things happen, we’re even more inclined to appreciate the good ones — the soulful places that made us feel seen, pampered, and transported.
And sometimes, it’s worth giving something a second chance — even if only to confirm there are better places out there… or maybe, just maybe, to be surprised and realize (as my friend said) we were simply unlucky.