In Pursuit of Unreasonable Excellence

There is no substitute for being in the trenches

Bill W and Dr. Bob discovered that the best way for an alcoholic to remain sober was to talk to another alcoholic. Something happens when two individuals, who shared the same experiences and reaped the same results, get together to discuss what they used to be like, what happened, and what they are like now. In recovery, telling those stories brings hope to the still struggling alcoholic desiring sobriety. There are just some stories in the life of an alcoholic that can only be understood by another alcoholic. Try as they might, normies (the affectionate term alcoholics call normal drinkers) simply have no reference point to understand or relate to an alcoholic’s story.

I can stand in front of a group of alcoholics and recount the tale of my last drink. It involved going on a three-day binge, locking myself in my living quarters on an island resort in the middle of the state of Wisconsin. Part of the last drink story is telling my audience that I was living my "dream" job. I was a project manager for a successful real estate and hospitality company and that position filled the bill in both prestige as well as compensation. The story ends with the hotel staff breaking the lock on the door only to discover me passed out on the bed and the owner of the company calling my wife to tell her to get her drunk-ass husband off his island. All the alcoholics in the room simply nod along, not missing a beat. No one interjects, "how could you let alcohol ruin your dream job?" That is because everybody in the room has some version of my fall in their own recovery story. But, when I retell that same story to a normie, you know, one of those individuals who can order a beer and leave half of it on the table, they look at me in utter dismay. They are the ones who cannot fathom how anyone could let alcohol get in the way of a great job.

I felt that same sense as I read Will Guidara’s book Unreasonable Hospitality. I can't imagine anyone in the hospitality industry that will not identify with his stories of pursuing excellence in restaurants. There is a kinship among those of us that know what it's like to push through a busy Friday night shift shorthanded while not letting that deficiency get in the way of providing excellent food and service to our guests. To a "normie," one of those individuals that works nine to five and leaves their unfinished work at the office door, the notion of unreasonable hospitality may not compute. As a point of reference, there are sixteen to eighteen-year-olds staffing the host stations in our busy restaurants. On those nights, when customers are stacked three deep at the bar waiting an hour for a table, they are cooler in the pocket than Aaron Rogers in a must win playoff game, at dealing with hungry and demanding diners three times their age. As I read Will Guidara’s book, I wondered if the “normies” could understand the heavy lift required to offer unreasonable hospitality.

I nodded along with Guidara’s stories, like the one about providing ridiculously expensive disposable spoons for a gelato cart he developed for the Sculpture Gardens at New York’s Museum of Modern Art. That expense detail of providing a “wow” guest experience would get shot down by 99% of P&L scrutinizing operators. In an industry where we carve off profits one penny at a time, splurging on a throw away gelato spoon is simply unheard of. But that story led to Guidara’s rule of 95/5 which is, “Manage 95 percent of your business down to the penny; spend the last 5 percent ‘foolishly.’” As a restaurant CFO, I certainly relate to the rule of 95/5. I teach a similar version of that axiom when I talk about purchasing products like wine. I instruct my bar managers to make sure they have ample amounts of “Chateau ala Cash Flow” on the wine menu so that we can offer a couple of “wow” vintages at below expected retail prices.

But I think the story I most identify with was the one he told in the beginning of the book regarding being honored in 2010 The World’s 50 Best Restaurants. Will Guidara and his chef-partner Daniel Humm’s restaurant, Eleven Madison Park, came in at number 50 that year as a new entry onto that elite list of restaurants. He tells how he and his partner were sitting in London’s Guildhall when the emcee announced their restaurant was selected as number 50 and they slumped into their chairs in disappointment. This is where my opening reference to my recovery comes into play. To a normie, the reaction is, holy cow you were named one of the top 50 restaurants in the entire world! However, to a hospitality person in search of excellence, being last among the best simply isn't good enough. It is that search of excellence motif that carries Will Guidara’s book through numerous other industry surpassing stories. Those of us that served alongside in the hospitality foxhole nod along as he recalls one unreasonable hospitality story after another.

I identified with this book as a lifelong hospitality member just like the alcoholics in the room identified with my story. It is simply unreasonable (unnatural) for an individual to be so obsessed with alcohol that they would drink away their dream job. Equally, it is unreasonable, and therefore unnatural, for individuals to pursue excellence in hospitality. The desire to go above and beyond to provide a memorable and unforgettable experience for a guest you do not know and may never meet again is something that cannot be taught. That is why those of us in hospitality seek out individuals who have the "hospitality” gene otherwise known as attitude. Because if our team members have the right attitude, we can teach them aptitude.

For anyone who has been in the trenches of a restaurant, I cannot recommend Will Guidara’s book more. His style of storytelling resonates with the hospitality professional; the reader will walk away with inspiration to create their own unreasonable hospitality expectations within their operations.

Some may wonder whether Guidara is the real deal as a restaurant operator instead of just an Ivy League Cornell grad who worked for famed Danny Meyer in a couple of his hip Manhattan restaurants. I am reporting that he is. In addition to his success in Eleven Madison Park, he also wrote several episodes of the popular television series called The Bear. I had many friends reach out to me telling me that they love The Bear series and asked me if that is truly what it is like to work in a restaurant? The answer is yes! I watched the first episode and could not bring myself to watch any further episodes. It triggered such a PTSD reaction in me as I associated it with the first restaurant I purchased straight out of college. The nightmare of acquiring that disgustingly filthy lodge on a dilapidated resort to northern Minnesota and trying to spit polish it into something that resembled a restaurant is something I'll never forget.

My personal journey of unreasonable hospitality began with that restaurant I bought three months before my college graduation. I remember finishing and presenting a senior thesis, studying for finals, planning my university’s graduation party all at the same time I was writing a menu, designing a wine list and trying to figure out how to staff a restaurant that was to open less than a week after I walked across the stage to receive my diploma. My college friends thought I was crazy and watching The Bear simply brought back the reality that they were right!

My hats off to Will Guidara and Daniel Humm for their work in bringing Unreasonable Hospitality to the forefront of the restaurant industry. Moreover, I honor the thousands of hospitality professionals that bring their “A” game to work, day in and day out. There is a sacredness to serving meals to complete strangers. Those of us in the hospitality industry get to share unique experiences with our diners – guests that may be celebrating their best day such as a marriage proposal or suffering their worst loss such as the death of a dear friend. When we think back to our own major events celebrated in restaurants, we recall the sights, the smells and the meals we enjoyed at that time. What is lost to our memory is all the nameless faceless hospitality professionals it took to create that lasting and unreasonable experience.