It’s time, once again, to profane another sacred cow, the one that lows thus: “All style, no substance.” That’s what a lot of cud-chewing critics say of operations in our business that have lost it. “All style, no substance.” I’m not at all sure what that means. Why I’m not is tough to pinpoint. I think maybe it’s because I’ve heard it so often that—in moments of weakness—I repeat it as if it were gospel. It isn’t. It’s doubletalk.
Without style, there is no substance. Better: style is substance.
Let me prove my point with this example. It’s an ad for The Sheraton Park Place Hotel (Minneapolis). I saw it in an in-flight magazine. The ad is all copy—no photo or illustration detracts from its message.
Here’s the headline: “What if, God forbid, you had to run a hotel?” Here’s the copy: “We wouldn’t wish such a gruesome task on such a nice person. But if you absolutely had to do it, wouldn’t you want to do it right?
“All right, the trick is to remember all the things you’ve hated about all the hotels you’ve ever visited. The indifference. The arrogance. The carelessness. The, well, you get the picture.
“Then you simply decide you’re not going to stand for it, and you become a holy terror, until things get running right. You also watch everyone like a hawk ever after, to make sure there’s no backsliding.”
Please note there is no mention of what a neat-looking place the hotel is or how large its pool is (or, even if it has a pool) or how fluffy its towels are or how marvelous its food is. The thing to remember about food and towels is that—in most places—they are givens: guests expect them and they expect them to be okay. Note also that the emphasis in the ad is not on the flash of the hotel’s filigree or the panache of its pedigree, but—by inference—on employee attitudes and responsibilities. Couple these elements and you have the essence of a property’s style.
Without style, the ambiance of a place—no matter how elegant or breathtaking—decomposes into something smelly and offensive. A lousy reception in the lobby turns it into a tar pit. Arrogance in the restaurant is as nasty as a cockroach scampering along a chair-rail. Sloppy service transforms lip-smacking food into fetid food. On the other hand, stylish service has been known to rescue meals suffering from acute cuteness and cliché.
Here is style, without which there is no substance.
I am in San Francisco attending the restaurant show, staying at one of the city’s great hotels. At the last minute, I arrange with the assistant general manager to reserve a function room so that I can discuss confidentially foodservice issues with two of the Bay Area’s finest restaurateurs. The restaurateurs and I have decided to meet at 4 p.m. The assistant g.m. suggests soft drinks, coffee, sandwiches, and fruit. She assures me that everything will be in order . . . even though it’s now nearly 1 p.m. Pleased with the arrangements, I hail a cab and head for the convention center, only a couple of miles away. A few minutes later, word reaches the assistant g.m. that the restaurateurs cannot meet at 4. Three is best. Three, or nothing. The assistant g.m. knows how important the meeting is. She assures the restaurateurs that the time change presents no problem. Now, all she has to do is find me so she can tell me about the change. She sends a bellman to the convention center to do just that. He does. In time. Style.
In the morning rush hour, when demand for roomservice exceeds the manpower to deliver it, the hotel recruits whomever it needs to get the food to guests on time. Even the general manager? Even the general manager. Who else? I have watched him schlep bags, bus tables. He is style. So are his employees. So is his hotel. Without style, he does not have a hotel. Without style, his hotel has no substance.
Jaguar XK150: Thampapon/Shutterstock.com
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