HE was a slim and energetic fellow with long brown hair accompanied by a matching goatee. A native of the Bronx, he had grown up to hate the accents of girls from Queens.

He had spent two years living in a tent on a solitary mountain in Arkansas, accompanied only by his dog. That had been ''really cool'', but he assured us that he also loved the nightlife in his current home town of New Orleans.

One of his favourite pastimes, he said, was to sit outside on a hot day eating habanero chilli peppers washed back with multiple bottles of ice-cold beer. He also enjoyed talking to women out for a night in the French Quarter, who liked his hair and his funny accent.

Our waiter at that outdoor cafe in Bourbon Street told us the story of his life that evening, delivered in sporadic bursts of super-charged dialogue served up between each course of the meal. My three UK colleagues were a bit overwhelmed by the whirling dervish of chitchat, speculating more than once that the Bronx boy-turned-Southerner had access to a large supply of high-quality amphetamines.

Coming back home to Edinburgh, I told the story of the high-octane waiter to the barman at my local. When I had finished, he paused for several moments before pronouncing that it was not in the ''Scots nature'' to behave in such a manner.

Whether caused by the long cold months of winter or some genetic discrepancies, folks on this side of the Atlantic are not inclined to friendly banter with strangers, he said. In his judgment, it was a waste of time to advise service staff north of the Border to emulate the American example, simply because it was not possible for them to do so.

If this is true - or if enough people believe this to be true - does that mean the myriad of hospitality and service training courses on offer in this country are a waste of time?

Not necessarily, although the adage about ''buyer beware'' most certainly applies. As is the case with just about everything, the quality of professional advice on sharpening service skills varies from programme to programme.

Any worthwhile training course will focus on pinpointing what it is that the customer wants. Earlier this year at a Scotland's Best seminar organised by Tourism Training Scotland, eight managers from businesses ranging from a lingerie boutique to the Scottish Mining Museum identified the five things most important to them when on the receiving end of service.

These were, in descending order of importance: reliability, responsiveness, assurance and empathy, followed by ''tangibles'' such as fixtures and fittings, interior decor, et cetera.

Those with a keen eye for cashflow will have noticed that the first four do not directly involve any monetary outlay. Nevertheless, failure to consistently deliver reliable and responsive service can cost a business dearly.

Of course, unless managers and owners truly believe in the direct economic benefit of providing superior service, sending employees out on training programmes won't make a jot of difference. This is the only point where a meaningful comparison between the Scottish and American ethos can be made.

Everyone in the US - from the airport shuttle driver to the car park attendant to the hotel maid - is working for tips, and most of them know they won't be given a dime unless they've earned it. (Americans may be lavish tippers compared to their UK counterparts, but they also seem to have fewer qualms about leaving no gratuity if they've deemed the service to have been crap.)

If everyone reliant on this country's tourism industry made the clear connection between better service and more money, maybe the high-powered ''Have a nice day!'' would become less of an Americanism. Individual businesses would benefit from positive consumer perception, which is worth more than every customer throwing an extra pound note or two on the table after paying their bill.