
The Misunderstood Metric — Why Excellence Isn’t Just About Speed & Standards.
Published 21.07.2025
We’ve all worked somewhere that worshipped speed, timings, and rules.
You know the look — five minutes to close, and a couple walks in with faces that scream, “please don’t send us back into the night.” Not entitled. Just wrecked.
They’d just escaped a Rod Stewart concert (I didn’t ask), missed their reservation, and thanks to train delays, their next cab was over an hour away. Basically: stranded, starving, and out of luck.
The host radioed the manager, who started with, “Let me check with the kitchen.” I cut in: “Take the table. We’ve got this.”
I met them with menus, poured some wine, asked a few questions, and said, “If it’s alright, I’ll just order for you. Trust me — you’ve had a long enough night.
The kitchen fired fast, the lights were already low, the music stayed on — and at no point did we rush them. Not even a hint.
Half an hour later, they were full, relaxed, and grateful. On their way out, (with staff still doing closing side-work), they promised they’d be back — this time for the Mamma Mia! concert. And yes, on time, they made very clear.
Speed and warmth aren’t opposites — the best hospitality delivers both.
Hospitality isn’t logistics. It’s not a courier service with plates. It’s a relationship business. That means the goal isn’t just to serve quickly — it’s to serve well. With presence. With purpose. With just enough personality that the guest remembers the moment, not just the meal.
Here’s what I believe:
Excellence is a team member catching a guest’s vibe and adjusting their approach.
It’s the manager knowing when to take a risk — knowing the outcome already.
It’s someone spotting that a regular is being made… mid-shift, mid-service, mid-chaos.
None of that shows up in the KPIs. But it is what people come back for.
This isn’t an argument against standards. I love high standards. I built a career on them.
But we’ve lost the plot if we think metrics matter more than moments.
Excellence isn’t the end of the shift report. It’s the bit that never gets written down — but stays with someone long after they leave.