The Invisible Prep List — Teaching Warmth Without Scripts
Published 18.07.2025
There’s no line on the prep list that says “remember their name from last week,” and no checkbox next to “make Nana feel like Beyoncé.” But let’s be honest — that’s the stuff guests remember. Not the symmetrical napkins. Not the salmon garnish spiral that took three tries and a minor identity crisis.
There was an older couple who wandered into my Mexican restaurant one night — and let’s just say, the first visit didn’t exactly scream “regulars in the making.” She was sharp-tongued, he was… let’s call it low-effort, and the poor waiter assigned to them looked like he wanted to disappear into the floor by minute ten.
About fifteen minutes in, I stepped in, smoothed it over, and somehow turned it around. From that night on, they came back like clockwork — once a month, same table, no menu required. Dewar’s on the rocks for him. Cuervo 1800 with a side of jalapeños for her. Always.
And no, they weren’t married — she made that very clear. Just “friends.” Though after three tequilas, she’d occasionally wink and suggest otherwise.
For five years, they were my guests. If I was away on holiday, I’d personally hand them over to the most capable head waiter with a full briefing — as if passing the nuclear codes. Because once you take the time to get to know someone — even the ones who start off a little prickly — they stop being just customers. They become your people.
In this business, we obsess over what’s visible: the table turn times, the GP on a glass of house white, whether that lamb chop is angled just right for Instagram. And fair enough — those details matter. But the real magic? It’s the stuff no one sees coming. The bit where someone says, “I don’t know why… it just felt right.”
I’ve spent decades building teams across cities, time zones, and at least one restaurant that should’ve come with hazard pay. And if there’s one thing I know:
You can’t script warmth — but you can create the conditions where it shows up.
Hire for curiosity, not just experience.
Reward people who notice the little things.
Coach intuition, not just compliance.
Some of the best service I’ve ever witnessed wasn’t polished — it was personal. That time we were handed a beautifully wrapped coffee cake for us to enjoy the next morning, upon leaving an amazing dining experience at Danny Meyer's Gramercy Tavern. A moment noticed. A beat held. Someone choosing to care when they could’ve just cleared the table.
Hospitality is messy. It’s unpredictable. And it’s absolutely brilliant when it works. But if we start treating warmth as a non-negotiable — not just a nice-to-have, but a genuine business asset — then maybe, just maybe, we’ll build something that lasts longer than the Saturday night rush and doesn’t rely on laminated scripts and smiley face badges to do it.