The reception has been mixed. Some seem fine with it, while several balked at the rules. What is so special about this shop that warrants all these restrictions? It's like they don't want to do business. So action! They're not even a fine dining place!
I have mixed feelings as well but the main emotion is amusement. In Malaysia, culinary mecca and home of gourmands, one shouldn't be surprised that even a chicken chop shop has its own house rules. I've seen a char koay teow stall with three rules regarding who NOT to sell to, though I suspect it's mostly a marketing gimmick. Could this be the same for the chicken chop shop? Some would think so, but that's probably a tiny part of the story.
Pandemic pressures
I have a small personal connection with this place. A while after it first opened, I was introduced to and then reviewed it for an online news portal. Back then, it sold a bit more than just chicken chop. The owner tried ways and means to bring in more business but results seemed to fall short. There were other woes as well, as the food business is tough.
Then COVID-19 dropped. When the lockdowns started I stopped going around my usual food haunts, so I wasn't sure what happened to the place. Eventually I learnt they were still operating albeit with restrictions, same as many mom-and-pops. While the MCOs are merely a memory by now, they took their toll. Some businesses folded while other soldiered on, weary from the SOPs and changes caused by the economy then and shifting dining habits.
At some point, the café trimmed its menu, trimmed its staff, rebranded itself as That Chicken Chop Shop on Facebook and put all those rules in place. The self-imposed limits sound extreme. What is the point of a café that only sold a hundred of its main dish for a short session each day?
Staying afloat
The whole set-up seems calculated, but not without reason. Keeping a shop open for a whole day exacts its own toll. Foot traffic is unpredictable and the power has to keep going throughout the day. Good days can be few and far between. What happens to unsold stock and how long should they keep it before having to throw it out? What about staff turnover and salaries? These were issues even before the pandemic.
If who walks in can't be managed, then focus on how the café is run. Fixing the number of items sold makes for easier logistics planning, ensures food sold is fresh and there's less need – or no need – to keep unused ingredients.
Other aspects of the business can be scaled down from there. The owner's wife cooks while the owner manages the customers. This focuses the quality control to single points; where food and service are concerned, the buck stops with the owners, so they better be on top of their game.
Everything else: clearing tables, washing and cleaning up, and any task that needs less skill and training can be left to a helper. Even with high staff turnover in the food industry, this cuts down on the headaches that ensue when a worker decides to move on. Training new staff repeatedly is tiresome, especially when the owners are getting on in years. All so they can keep running for just a bit longer.
Customer, not king
For a bunch of self-professed food experts, certain Malaysians seem woefully ignorant of what goes on behind the scenes at the hottest and latest food haunts. Or do their appetites, curiosity and sense of adventure take precedence over everything else?
Years ago at an upmarket dessert café, a Malaysian Karen commented that she didn't feel safe there because it had foreign workers, who she thought brought the place's status to the level of a "wholesale Selayang market". Thank goodness the majority didn't feel that way.
The reason migrants are such an integral part of our F&B scene is because locals are too soft for the demands of the professional kitchen. They can up and quit mid-shift while migrants, with much fewer options, soldier on until they find greener pastures. Migrants didn't "take" those jobs from locals, they simply slid into unfilled niches.
What's funny is that traders at the real Selayang wholesale market told the media they can't get locals to do the work, and those who did "could not cope with the environment and workload, and most did not even last a day while the others left within hours of being hired."
This is not exclusive to us. Too many schools of thought have plenty to say about how to be a good food-and-beverage operator but not how to be a good customer. Contrary to that popular axiom, we are not kings. That goes straight into our heads and breeds expectations we shouldn't have, leading to things that shouldn't be said and done without considering facts, circumstances, and consequences.
I learnt lessons in writing critiques – some of them the hard way. Whether you're deliriously joyful or seething with rage, those emotions blind you to the other side of the story. After some consideration, the thoughts that follow are often not worth expressing, however valid they may feel at the time. Criticising is easy and low-risk – but are you trying to help or do you just want people to know you had a bad day?
Unwritten rules
Even if food places have no house rules, there are rules one should follow when patronising them. Be polite. Long queue? Be patient. Don't be an ass. Malaysians are said to be courteous and we want to maintain that reputation. People raising Cain over The Chicken Chop Shop's rules seem to have forgotten that many places do not allow you to bring outside food to their premises OR use their washrooms if you're not a customer.
With so much on the plate of an F&B operator, having to deal with overbearingly entitled, narcissistic types should be among the least of their priorities. And they shouldn't have to apologise for sticking to SOPs they formulated to keep them sane and afloat.
When it seems so many establishments, not just F&B places, live and die by their reputations these days, an angry review or comment carries more weight than you think. If you're not vibing with the menu, the owner, or the place, go elsewhere. This food mecca of a country has many other spots that are also worth a try.
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