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8 DAYSmy word BY^ WOFFLES WU
Check out Woffles Wu’s instagram account @woffleswu for photos relating to this weekly column.The Melbourne Savage Club, like
many other similar bohemian
gentleman’s clubs around the world,
has its own peculiar traditions and
customs which are unique and
endearing.
The one I like the most is the
honour system for billing. What
this means is that if you eat or
drink something in the club and
the waiters or butler Pino are not
around, you are obliged to take out
a billing chit, write your membership
number and what you have
consumed on it, and then place
it in a little box that is emptied
at the end of the day by the staff
and the chits tallied. You will then
receive at the end of the month a
consolidated bill.Of course you could cheat and
underdeclare or even not declare
anything at all but that would be
very poor form and inexcusable.
Why would anyone want to cheat
the club over a few measly drinks
anyway? I mean, what possible
thrill could they get out of that?
Thankfully, I’ve never seen any of
the members stoop to that level
and feel proud to be part of a
membership that is so civil and
decent. Sometimes when trust and
responsibility are thrust upon you,
there is a disinclination to abuse
the system and we do the right
thing. It is when you are not trusted
or viewed with suspicion that there
is the temptation to buck or milk
the system. This is true of a club
as it is of a country. Trust is very
important.
As the club is primarily a lunch
and post-lunch destination where
you can while away a lazy afternoon
in the company of like-minded
conversationalists, the waiters onlycome in an hour before lunch and
leave at about 3pm. After that time,
the entire three floors, which may
have members languishing in the
billiards room on the second floor or
having postprandial drinks in either
of the two bars on the ground and
second floors, is manned solely by
Pino who is, by necessity, all over
the place like a Jack in the Box.
Three staff including the General
Manager of the club occupy the tiny
offices on the ground floor.
With over a thousand members,
some of whom no longer live in
Melbourne like myself, this mere
handful of incredible staff make
the effort to remember every
member’s name and his food or
drink preferences. This can beattested to by the fact that although
I returned to Singapore in 1994 and
have only visited the club barely five
times in the last 23 years, the staff
still recognise and remember me,
and immediately ask if I would like
to have a sloe gin.
What is even more remarkable is
that the staff have changed over the
years and yet they still know who I
am. How is that possible? Even if I
haven’t met the new receptionist or
butler before, if I mention that I am
from Singapore, they will say “Ah, Dr
Wu” or if I say I am Dr Wu, they will
reply, “Ah yes, from Singapore.”
Perhaps they study the
membership list on a regular
basis and try to match a name
to a face or perhaps they just
have prolific memories. Whatever
the reason, that recognition and
acknowledgement of who you
are gives you a great sense of
‘belonging’.
It is something I have carried
over to my own clinical practicewhere I encourage all my staff
to make a conscious effort to
remember our patients’ names
and their likes or dislikes. There is
nothing worse than going to a place
you frequent and the staff have no
clue who you are or what you want.
It merely reflects you have no social
EQ, manners or guest relationship
powers. It is for me, not good
service.
I once had a receptionist who
must have had cotton wool between
her ears. She could not recognise
any of my patients even if that
patient had just seen me an hour
before. On many an occasion she
would telephone my patients to
remind them of their appointments
only to have them retort, “Huh, I
already came to the clinic earlier
and stood right in front of you! You
can’t remember me?” Needless to
say, it is embarrasing for me when
these avoidable blunders occur.
The third thing I love about the
club is the way we are mixed and
matched for lunch or post-lunch
drinks. The next day after I had
the delightful conversation with
KM my plastic surgical guest and
the barrister Graham whom I had
met for the first time the evening
before, the three of us were seated
for lunch at a table for four. Midway
through our soup, another member
whom we did not know, came to
sit with us. It did not take long for
us to be sharing a bottle of wine
and talking about a wide variety of
things. This carried over to drinks in
the lounge after lunch.
In the past I had similarly
benefited from this egalitarian
system and was never made to
feel left out if I turned up for lunch
alone. The staff would always find
me a table of interesting lunch
companions or I could try my luck
and slot myself on to any table I
wished.
Margaret, who used to run the
dining room would greet me at the
top of the stairs and say to me, “Dr
Wu, let me seat you at the table
with Geoffrey Blainey our president,
Creighton Burns, the editor of the
Age newspaper and George Mitchell
a senior architect. I am sure you will
have a wonderful lunch with them!”
And invariably, I always did.What is even more
remarkable is that the
staff have changed over the
years and yet they still
know who I am. How is that
possible?