Real Life Stories, Opinions & Extracts

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While time doesn't matter, let's dial back to the early '90s. Young, ambitious, and confident, I was able to land a job in, at that time, the most successful and prestigious hotel in America.

The company's flagship and mother hotel property. Mother hotel, because all things started there and leaders of future properties underwent a rigorous grooming process beforehand. To ensure the correct standards will be embedded in you to continue the journey with the company.

Arriving on the plane from Europe and coming from the best restaurant in the world of this time, I thought I was an imported star.

Soon to realize, Europe is not America, and only performance counts. Nobody knew of my achievements, with the exceptional few. All others didn't care but only watched if I was up to the task, in my shiny suit and a cute European accent.

Hence, I started to learn things the American way and also made many friends along the way.

In my first attendance at a Department Heads Meeting, the GM, a native-born Bavarian from Munich and now, much more American than German, asked me my name. I said, Louis. He said, "aren't you coming from Munich"? I replied with a yes, as my recent Michelin Star restaurant was in Munich. He shortly frowned, then smirked and said, "welcome to California, Ludwig."

Just for clarity, while all other department heads present looked bewildered, I knew the grounds for his rationale of rechristening me. Ludwig was the name of the King of Bavaria, the one that built the original Disney castle. Hence, Ludwig, it was, a name he still calls me till today.

Working hard to prove myself, I rose to the ranks quickly and made it to Coffeeshop Manager.

Fueled with new confidence, I went about my job. At the same time, the already looming recession of the '90s hit—staff hours needed reduction, and efficiency, productivity, and opportunity became the new magic words.

One regular morning the general manager of the hotel came for his usual breakfast. The service was splendid as always, and nothing eventful ever happened till that day.

On his way out, he said, Ludwig, your light bulbs are dusty.

I said, "yes, sir," and off he went. I picked up the phone, called Housekeeping, and relayed the message of the GM. Case closed. Job done.

The following day, he came again, had breakfast, and off he went. But not before summoning me to his table and reminding me that the light bulbs are still dusty.

I looked in surprise, concurred with his observations, and blamed Housekeeping for their lack of follow-up. A short apology followed and my reassurance that we would do it.

So, I called Housekeeping again, shared the GM's displeasure, and urged them to do the job correctly today, which they acknowledged.

As I entered the restaurant the following day, the many chandeliers in the room and countless light bulbs drew my immediate attention. Only to see that nothing had happened overnight, and they were still all dusty.

My anxiety levels immediately began to rise, and my head spun, trying to find an amicable excuse that could keep me out of harm's way.

Thirty minutes later, the GM came, had his breakfast, read his newspaper, and showed no reaction. Hence, I thought I'd get lucky and maybe buy myself another day.

He finished his breakfast, signed his check, got up, looked at me, and called me to follow him onto the empty patio of the restaurant. There we walked to the far-most corner where we stopped. He looked me in the eyes, his chest began to fill with air, and his facial expression was about to go into tense mode.

His mouth opened, and like letting go of a slingshot, an angry voice came shooting out. He shouted, "who are you"? In agitation, I said, Louis. He repeated himself, "who are you"? This time I knew Louis was the incorrect answer and said, the manager. And so, he went for the third time, "who are you"? and I voiced the manager, this time knowing where he was getting at. As a restaurant manager, you are in charge of your people and services and your facility as a whole. 

He said, "get it done," and walked away.

Now my mental clock started to go into overdrive. We had breakfast, lunch, and dinner operations, so in reality, I only had 10 hours to get the job done before the GM would come again.

My first trip to Housekeeping fell on deaf ears. Staff shortages and no immediate extra time due to the recession and scheduling conflicts answered my pledge for help.

Catch 22 was also that I couldn't hold my employees back due to the same reasons. Consequently, I picked 2 of my most devoted busboys and asked them to help me while paying them out of pocket.

Post lunch, we started with the necessary gear of ladders and cleaning tools, ready to conquer a room filled with many chandeliers and, who knows, how many wall scones. 

We unscrewed each light bulb one by one and polished them to perfection. Dusted the décor and arms of each chandelier and balanced every single lampshade back to its proper position.

We continued post-dinner operations and at 4 am, we finished. My dedicated helpers went home, and I decided, why not clean the windows as well. Make sure not one grain of dust or smear is present. Once done, I went home, took a shower, and returned swiftly to open the restaurant for breakfast.

First to arrive was the GM. He went to his table, ordered his regular coffee and muesli, read the newspaper, and seemed calm. I was standing at a discreet and respectful distance, waiting for the summon and pat on the shoulder for a job well done.

Time passed, he signed his bill and walked along a long corridor out of the restaurant.

Just when he was about to turn the corner, he stopped, turned around, looked for me in the distance, and flagged me down to him. I thought, yes, that's my moment of recognition and hastily charged towards him.

Once I arrived, my chest began to fill with air this time, simply in anticipation for the acknowledgment and appreciation to come.

But he looked to the ground and said, "Ludwig, do you see the planter?" And I said yes, "do you see the plexiglass pot liner?" and I said yes. "IT IS DUSTY!" and he walked away.

At that moment, I felt so unappreciated and undervalued. The first thought that came to mind was, I quit. As a high-performing manager of his team, I didn't need this. I got so angry and suddenly felt so vulnerable. Hence, I went to the ocean terrace to grasp some fresh air, trying to calm down and regain my line of thought.

And then it suddenly happened, and I thought, hold on a second. That is not how it should work. That's not right. While the GM had reason to reprimand me as a manager, why would I allow him to do so?

Thus from this moment on, I swore to myself. Never, ever will I give any superior of mine a chance to critique me. I will make it my mission for life always to be a step ahead of them and perform at the highest level no matter what.

Looking for the out-of-place grain in everything became part of my DNA. Living by a zero-defect and error-free code, be it in managing people in operations or administrations since this day, served me very well. 

And in hindsight, none of my hotels had a dusty light bulb ever again. 

The moral of the story is to train your mindset, trying to do all things perfectly. Be it the timely and error-free email reply to your clients, the perfect amount of seasoning for your signature dish, a perfectly aligned table setting, or the follow-up on your clients' requests. Not to forget the never-ending will, to do it better than others.