I've been wanting to go to the restaurant, Hai Di Lao, for a couple of years now. The global chain is famous for their hotpots and particularly, the noodles that come served with a man stretching them right in front of you in an amusing dance. Every time I walked past it, it was a wait of a couple hours at the minimum. The top floor of the restaurant was reserved solely for queues - a nail salon to occupy the time and a bubble tea shop to curve the hunger.
An hour and a half later, our number was finally called and we walked down the stairs to an arena-like, sterile arrangement of beige tables, seats, shelves and cupboards. We were directed to our seats where we ordered from an iPad and it didn't take us long to notice that that wasn't the only strangely mechanic thing about the restaurant.
We couldn't help but notice our company. 90% of the customers were clad in designer clothing with even more shopping bags in their hands. It looked like they were almost scowling at the free snacks the restaurant had to offer - more for me, at least. Despite being Chinese and occasionally blurting out a word or two of what I can remember, I felt awfully dissimilar from the people in the restaurant and it was sad to notice that my boyfriend seemed even more out of place, too scared to even get water because he didn't know if they'd yell at him.
The worst was being in the restaurant and seeing the clear disparity amongst the cleaners, waiters and customers. I know that Chinese people hadn't always had the easiest path - I got that lecture early on in life - but knowing that if my boyfriend and I role played this restaurant, there would be no other option than me as a waiter and him as a cleaner shocked both of us. The waiters were all Chinese, tending to customers and their special requests like 'could you please bring these down to table 54 after they've ordered and put them in a vase of water after'. The cleaners, were all Black. Having both grown up in Malaysia and being familiar with the cultural and racial biases, we were worried. Wanting to ask the cleaners if they were okay, if they were being treated fairly, if they were allowed to even speak to customers, because it really didn't seem like it. Now, contrast both of those to the styled out Chinese customers who ordered at least two times the portions they could consume and you had a pentagon even the Hunger Games Capital would shiver at.
At this restaurant, there was no attempt. No exceptions. No hope. It almost made Amazon look good. Almost.
We both left feeling.. odd. On the one hand, we had a fun experience eating, cooking and seeing the noodle dance. On the other, we felt guilty. Guilty for (literally) feeding into the extortion and segregation.
Looking at the reviews, Hai Di Lao seems to be glowing and growing. Some part of me feels elated that Chinese culture and cuisine was becoming more popular - that the popularity of the place went against the stereotypes of eating dogs and pigeons, especially after COVID.
I want to say that the experience turned me off the restaurant. That I'd no longer go there and support it. But the truth is that I have no idea. If a friend wanted to try it, would I go? Would I tell them about the shocking experience and advise against it?
I think we'd all like to think we're the type to advocate against but sometimes it doesn't seem that simple. Say we do boycott the restaurant, we rally for better working conditions, fairer pay and equity amongst their staff. If not, the branch goes bankrupt. Then what? The cleaners are out of jobs, out of money and out of proof of employment? And then what?
And then... what?