Ivy Bar & Bistro needs to shed its arrogant service

We think something is seriously the matter if a bistro that prides itself on being a wine bar, takes half an hour to uncork a fresh bottle

We think something is seriously the matter if a bistro that prides itself on being a wine bar, takes half an hour to uncork a fresh bottle. An evening at Worli's Cafe Ivy Bar & Bistro unfolded domino-effect disasters, leaving a bunch of us gasping for a breath of politeness.

The beginning: It has the reputation of being a "cheap and chic" hangout option, making it a popular destination for professionalsu00a0to grab an after-work drink and bite. And perhaps that's what made it a meeting point for me and three friends, who didn't want to compromise on a conversation over booze, because a devil called recession has been lurking for a while. We bagged a corner table at the bar after a brief 10-minute wait. So far, so good.

The middle: The orders were placed, while we sat close to a gang of teenyboppers celebrating a happy "birday". The first round didn't give us a reason to complain, as we sipped on Firefly Malbec and discussed how this could be the only restaurant in Mumbai that chose to add mushroom in their Chicken Caesar Salad. The door to the packed bar separated the lucky (us, or so we thought) from the unlucky, crossing their fingers to land a table. A lone gentleman (lucky again) was seated at a table for four, and while he spent 45 minutes on a single flute of Rose, alternately staring at his iPhone and us, we felt sorry for the lot outside.

Chicken Nuggets, and a fourth round of wine was ordered. The wine took half an hour to arrive, the nuggets never did. The wine was taking time because "we are opening the bottle", a steward whimpered. That IIO's Is it Love played for the sixth time in two hours, didn't help.

The bill didn't take long to arrive, but we'd been charged for the Nuggets that we had ached to taste. Our request to split the bill amount by swiping four credit cards (something we've done at a dozen eateries) was brushed off as not possible. One of us decided to pay.

The end: A friend signed the slip, and contemplated on the tip amount, but the steward, Ranjeetu00a0couldn't wait. "Pen, please", he said brusquely. She looked at it one more time to check if it was a Mont Blanc after all. "And you will have to leave now, we have a waiting," Ranjeet ordered.

Waiting huh? What about the Mr Lech, and teen gang hanging around for eons? Anyone notice them?

Guys, you may serve decent tidbits, and wine at prices to beat any other Mumbai lounge, but you get a zero on people skills.