Exceptional hospitality doesn't mean saying "yes" to everything

What’s the most memorable hospitality disaster you’ve witnessed, and what did it teach you about earning a guest’s trust?

We once had a family who called our team every single day for two weeks. The doorbell wasn’t working right. The dryer’s alarm was too loud. The coffee mugs were too small. The closet hinges creaked. Even the toilet paper wasn’t soft enough. Our team was exhausted. When the family asked to extend their stay again, everyone wanted to say no.

I asked one question: “Have we actually asked them if they’re unhappy?” We hadn’t. Turns out, they were having a wonderful time! They genuinely thought pointing out every little thing was helping us improve. That family extended their original one-week stay to three months. Then they bought a home and asked Abode to manage it.

The lesson? The issue in front of you isn’t always the real issue. We were so busy responding to their complaints that we’d forgotten to understand the people making them.

Can a hotel actually become too good at service recovery? How do you balance going above and beyond for guests with setting sustainable expectations?

Absolutely. And I think this is where hospitality leaders sometimes confuse exceptional service with saying “yes” to everything. There’s a concept called the “service recovery paradox,” which suggests that when something goes wrong and the recovery is handled exceptionally well, a guest can sometimes become more loyal than if nothing had gone wrong. But recovery isn’t about throwing money at problems or offering increasingly extravagant concessions. Sometimes the most meaningful thing you can give someone is your attention.

At Abode, our guests might be spending $25,000, $50,000, or even $100,000 on a vacation. Expectations are understandably high. But that doesn’t mean every inconvenience warrants a refund or that our employees should have to move mountains over something relatively minor. Great recovery is about making the response proportionate to the problem and personal to the person. And sustainable hospitality means caring for your employees just as intentionally as you care for your guests.

If you could eliminate one phrase from every hotel employee’s vocabulary when something goes wrong, what would it be, and what should they say instead?

“That’s our policy.”

Policies are important. We need them. But leading with policy when someone is frustrated is essentially telling them the rules matter more than they do.

I’d replace it with: “Let me understand what’s happening, and let’s see what we can do.” Notice I didn’t promise we’d say yes. I promised we’d listen. That’s the difference between enforcing a transaction and building a relationship. People don’t always need to get their way. But they do need to feel like someone genuinely cares.

What happens when the guest isn’t right, but your team still needs to make the relationship right?

I actually think “the customer is always right” has done hospitality a disservice. Sometimes guests are wrong. Sometimes they’re unreasonable. Sometimes they’re operating with incomplete information. But here’s the thing: You don’t have to agree with someone to make them feel understood.

That family with the endless complaints? Our team wasn’t wrong to feel frustrated. But the guests weren’t necessarily trying to be difficult either. We were interpreting their behavior through our own frustration instead of getting curious about their intentions. That’s a leadership lesson, too.

Making a relationship right doesn’t mean admitting fault where none exists. It means being willing to understand another perspective and find a productive way forward. Sometimes that means apologizing. Sometimes it means explaining a boundary. And sometimes it means recognizing that a relationship simply isn’t the right fit.

How can leaders empower employees to show empathy without tolerating abusive behavior or sacrificing their own dignity?

This one is incredibly important to me. Hospitality should never require someone to sacrifice their dignity in the name of service. We ask our teams to be gracious, patient and understanding. But that has to work both ways. At Abode, I want our employees to feel empowered to solve problems creatively, but I also want them to know leadership will stand behind them when a guest crosses a line. Empathy doesn’t mean accepting mistreatment.

You can say, “I understand you’re frustrated, and I want to help. But I can’t continue this conversation if you’re speaking to my team that way.” That’s not bad hospitality. That’s healthy hospitality. And honestly, I think employees deliver better service when they know they don’t have to choose between caring for a guest and protecting themselves.

If a hotel’s culture is revealed by what happens behind the scenes during a crisis, what would you look for to determine whether its leadership is living its values?

I’d watch what happens immediately after someone makes a mistake. Does everyone start pointing fingers? Does the team scramble to protect themselves? Does someone get thrown under the bus? Or does leadership ask, “What happened, what can we learn and how do we make sure this doesn’t happen again?” That tells me almost everything.

In my book, I talk about three commitments: Show Up, Make Room and Build Belonging. Those commitments are easy to talk about when everything’s going well. The real test comes when things get uncomfortable. Can your employees speak up without fear? Are they trusted to make decisions? Do they feel supported when something goes sideways? Because your guests might never meet your CEO, but they’ll absolutely experience the culture that CEO has created.

Anything else you’d like to share?

After 18 years in hospitality, here’s what I know: Nobody remembers every detail of a perfectly executed stay. But they remember how you made them feel when something went wrong. And that applies to our employees just as much as our guests. Perfection doesn’t build loyalty. Recovery does.