Diservice

“Hi there and karibu. Is this your first time dining with us?”

The waiter gracefully hands you a menu and goes on to share the chef's special. An introduction into what will be a gastronomic journey to leave you all smiles. On the contrary, just the thought of visiting a public service office in my motherland sets off an inconsolable migraine. Take my imaginary hand, let us take a stroll  through one. 

Offices are meant to open at 0800hrs, shockingly (if you live up to Chronos’ ideal) this is not the case. When it eventually does, so-so cleaning eats up another 10-15 minutes: time in which the civil servant would be efficiently utilizing to have breakfast but instead are recapping yesterday's episode of Maria. 

Finally, the door swings out. Eyes widen with hope. We flock. She points back to the rickety, chipping, blue bench. The ‘nice’ lady is now yelping into the hallway, “I'll call you when I'm open” where we are sitting despondent, after one brave young man courageously popped his head into her office passively communicating “we would like to get huduma now”. 

The lady, henceforth known as Ms. Erable, offered neither apology nor justification for frittering Wanjiku's time away in the name of setting up. We have all heard the cringe-worthy stories of how depressingly daunting queues at a civil establishment can be, this was not tryin to deviate from the seemingly ingrained M.O. Perhaps if they played music, equivalent to a telephone's on hold tune, the wait would be bearable. 

The nil information sharing  was made evident by her squalling  "We know why we ask for those (printed) copies”. Could it be that deforestation is not a concern for you? Do not allow us to make assumptions. (I suspect some memories of redundant pedagogical instructions are presently stirring as your teacher, in frustration retorts, “because I said so!” to your genuine quest for clarification.) More so, what I would be keenest to discover is why such archaic practices thrive while even the colonisers already transitioned to paperless?

Back to Ms. Ereble, the tone she often used while addressing us regular Joes, and Janes, who have 3 extra hours a day, in which we can emotionally recover our battered dignity, was not too pleasant either. Was there an unspoken, albeit patchy sadistic contract effected by our mere presence on their premises? Is there malicious glee derived from humiliating clients? Do they then drink the trickling tears of their clients’ doleful spirits? 

When service delivery eventually began, a murder of crows cawed in disharmony overhead the offices. For the superstitious among you, that is your cue to jump to conclusions. Nonetheless, the process was smooth sailing for the next sixth of an hour. The short lived pleasant ending could not stand up to the prior disheartening two and a half (not men) hours. 

Service design is what I am peddling. Careful thought and execution of processes with as few pain-points as humanly possible: customer-centered, feedback driven evaluation coupled with appropriate rewards to keep staff in high spirits. These three elements can dramatically alter the course of necessary service delivery in public offices, which should aspire to be more like restaurants.