Gifts, to me, are deeply meaningful, which is why I get so mad when a business gives me a cheap tote with a branded USB drive. Try harder! Do better! Gifts are a way to tell people you saw, heard, and recognized them—that you cared enough to listen, and to do something with what you heard. A gift transforms an interaction, taking it from transactional to relational; there is no better way than a gift to demonstrate that someone is more than a customer or a line item on a spreadsheet. And the right one can help you to extend your hospitality all the way into someone’s life.
My compulsive attention to detail is one of my superpowers; it’s how I take aim at perfection. But that tendency also means I’m always walking a tightrope between my desire to guarantee excellence by controlling everything and knowing I want to create an environment of empowerment and collaboration and trust among the people who work for me. Like excellence and hospitality, these two qualities—control and trust—are not friends.
“The trouble is that most people want to be right. The very best people, however, want to know if they're right.”— John Cleese in Creativity: A Short and Cheerful Guide
This is what I would later call the Rule of 95/5: Manage 95 percent of your business down to the penny; spend the last 5 percent “foolishly.” It sounds irresponsible; in fact, it’s anything but. Because that last 5 percent has an outsize impact on the guest experience, it’s some of the smartest money you’ll ever spend.
But I wasn’t suggesting you could serve a soufflé any which way; I simply wanted it done in such a way that tradition didn’t interfere with hospitality. It was a different kind of correct.
my dad gave me one engraved with his favorite quote, from Calvin Coolidge. I had it hanging in my childhood bedroom, then in my college dorm room; I have it still, hanging here above my desk. It reads: Nothing in this world can take the place of persistence. Talent will not; nothing is more common than unsuccessful men with talent. Genius will not; unrewarded genius is almost a proverb. Education will not; the world is full of educated derelicts. Persistence and determination alone are omnipotent.
Laura is relentlessly can-do, a brilliant problem-solver, and a tireless advocate for the people who work for her, which is why I’m never happier than when she’s next to me, whispering in my ear. It’s Laura who tells me when a staff member needs a little TLC, when I’m being too intense, and when my attention is on the wrong thing. She’s the one who taps my shoulder and says, “Hey, this needs a little finessing,” or “You gotta chill out a little bit.” (If it isn’t already clear, I think every leader should have a Laura—someone who feels comfortable telling you when you aren’t acting as the best version of yourself.)
have since come to realize that a “cult” is what people who work for companies that haven’t invested enough in their cultures tend to call the companies that have.
Where do the highest-paid people in the company work? In the restaurants themselves, or in the corporate offices? That says a lot about how the company is run. In restaurant-smart companies, members of the team have more autonomy and creative latitude. Because they tend to feel a greater sense of ownership, they give more of themselves to the job. They can often offer better hospitality because they’re nimble; there aren’t a lot of rules and systems getting in the way of human connection. But those restaurants tend not to have a lot of corporate support or oversight—the systems that make great businesses. Corporate-smart companies, on the other hand, have all the back-end systems and controls in areas like accounting, purchasing, and human resources that are needed to make them great businesses, and they’re often more profitable as a result. But systems are, by definition, controls—and the more control you take away from the people on the ground, the less creative they can be, and guests can feel that. Restaurant-smart companies can be great businesses, and corporate-smart companies can deliver great hospitality. But their priorities are different, in ways that fundamentally affect the guests’ experience.
“Constant, gentle pressure” was Danny’s version of the Japanese phrase kaizen, the idea that everyone in the organization should always be improving, getting a little better all the time. “Athletic hospitality” meant always looking for a win, whether you were playing offense (making an already great experience even better) or defense (apologizing for and fixing an error). “Be the swan” reminded us that all the guest should see was a gracefully curved neck and meticulous white feathers sailing across the pond’s surface—not the webbed feet, churning furiously below, driving the glide.
On behalf of his wife and sons, Geoffrey of Anjou led the fighting in Normandy with drive and energy, riding into battle with a ‘Planta Genista’ – the Latin name for a type of yellow-blooming flower – as his talisman. This was, it is said, the root of his nickname of ‘Plantagenet’.
