I Dined at The Ritz in London. These are the Lessons Every Business Owner Needs to Learn about Service.

On Monday evening I was invited to dinner at The Ritz in London by a very generous — and equally perceptive — friend.

The magnitude of this — for someone like myself — is perhaps best demonstrated with a little context. Because dining at The Ritz is by no means a standard event in my calendar.

At least, not yet.

You see, where I come from, entry to those storied halls is the preserve of them.

Who are they?

They are the wealthy. The privileged. The people who made it — via some exclusive formula not privy to the rest of us — and who are, essentially, exceptional.

At least, that’s what I always told myself.

That sort of thinking allows — at a stretch — that people like myself might perhaps dream of one day tasting Afternoon Tea at The Ritz as a very special gift from the grandchildren to celebrate a golden wedding, or some similar lifetime milestone.

If you know, you know.

So how did I come to find myself not just at Afternoon Tea, but in the (surprisingly intimate) Michelin-starred Restaurant for a dinner I’ll never forget?

And why was it so life altering for me?

How I came to be at The Ritz

The generous friend who took me along has achieved great success in life. He built businesses — and helped many others do the same — from a starting point in life not dissimilar to my own.

But he came at it all with a very different point of view.

He believed early that his place was rightfully among them. And he took it.

Without the disabling fears or the kind of inverted snobbery that people like me use to justify staying in our lanes.

He took it.

Where for years I saw only ceilings and evidence of my own inherent limits, he was taking opportunities with joy, and making that world his own.

His intent on Monday, therefore, was two-fold:

• To advise me on the opportunities of my business. I’ve run a successful business for over a decade, but I’ve come to see that I’ve barely touched its potential. My host for the evening accepted my request for advice.
• To shift my entire world on its axis. To make me see that more is possible. That it’s all within reach. And that my reality is determined by the size of my thoughts.

Believe it, dear reader. For it is true of each of us:

Our reality is determined by the size of our thoughts.

On Monday, my thoughts got a whole lot bigger.

So what — specifically — did I learn?

Here are some of the very human lessons I took from the experience. Because humanity — to my surprise — very much was at the heart of it all.

Truly great service is so much better than I’d ever imagined

I thought I had an appreciation of excellent service.

I’ve had special meals on occasions in life. I’ve stayed in fancy hotels now and then. Charity balls. Weekend breaks. That sort of thing.

Indeed, I believe that in our own business we give great service to the clients we serve. That service was intentionally designed and tweaked over many years to make the customer journey with us an enjoyable one. We want them to know that we recognise their value. It’s important to us.

But until I’d experienced six hours of truly exceptional service at The Ritz on Monday, I genuinely had no idea just how good things could be.

It begins the moment you pull up at the building, where the door of your taxi (carriage) is opened by a doorman and you emerge up the stairs to great opulence and a grand staircase (“good evening, sir.”).

Throughout you are showered not merely with the most attentive care, but with expertise and attention-to-detail that took my breath away. And it’s relentless until the moment you depart — which, for me, was approaching midnight.

All of this piqued my interest for two reasons.

First, without the peculiar generosity of this friend there is every chance I’d have passed through this life never knowing that feeling. Like — might I add — most people.

Second, when the rest of us are unaware of those standards, how can we ever hope to lift our own sights that high? At minimum it would require great feats of imagination.

But seeing is believing.

Which was very much part of the entire reason I was invited along.

Given that the business venture we were discussing that evening is very much about white glove provision for elite individuals, the appreciation I gained is paramount.

It demolished my understanding of truly great service.

And with that came the recognition both that great service comes at a price; and that there are more than enough people willing and able to pay that price.

Without that lesson, this venture would fall flat at the first hurdle: my own limiting beliefs.

The grace of a legend

Prior to dinner we sipped cocktails in the Rivoli cocktail bar — the Avant Garde 2.0 was a dance of joy across my lips— before heading to the Palm Court atrium.

Here we soaked in the presence of a legend. Genuinely, a legend.

Ian Gomes is former pianist to Frank Sinatra, preferred pianist of the late Queen Elizabeth II — and the Queen Mother — and regular performer for Royalty, Presidents, and Prime Ministers in palaces and residences worldwide.

But on this evening Ian was in his seat as resident pianist at The Ritz. A position he’s held for decades.

So much so, in fact, that Ian has become part of the very soul of the place. Many a diner stepped up to take his picture. Every one was greeted with a smile of such warmth, eyes of such sparkle, and a manner of such grace, that Ian may well eclipse even the magnificence of the place itself.

Yet again, there was more. I was introduced personally to Ian, and for half an hour he chatted and shared his stories with me as he played with ease for the assembled diners.

Ian is an octogenarian, hails from Calcutta, and has lived a thoroughly rich life. Yet he insisted on taking my requests.

And here’s the thing. I’m not a classical music aficionado, so I was worried I’d betray my status. Ian was having none of that, and he positively beamed at the opportunity to play through Elvis, Bohemian Rhapsody, and even an Abba medley.

And that’s the lesson right there.

Every moment is an opportunity to bring light into someone’s life. Whoever you are. and whoever they are.

I wasn’t made to feel small by this man who graced palace ballrooms. On the contrary. I was made to feel that I belonged in one.

Delivering on the promise with performance

When we eventually made our way into the Epicurean Restaurant for seven thirty, prompt — precision is standard, too — my host was shown with me to his usual table by the piano.

Again, my breath was taken away.

The room itself is a work of art. Yet somehow by design the vast tapestry of the dining room is made intimate with soft light, plush carpets, elegant tableware, and live music (pianist and accompanying singer) to enhance the experience.

I was given a choice of menus to select from— á la carte, five course, seven course, or a taster menu. I selected the á la carte.

From there I chose the Native Lobster to begin, followed by the famous Ritz Beef Wellington with Périgord Truffle, and ending on Chocolate Soufflé with Vanilla Chantilly.

Each course was preceded — and dessert followed by — a selection of small tasters, each of which was a tiny treat to behold.

Every mouthful was something to savour. And savour it I absolutely did.

A brief word about the Beef Wellington at this point. It was like nothing I’ve ever tasted, specially prepared in the kitchens, carved on a trolley before us, then presented with flair beneath ceramic domes. Wow!

The evening was closed out with freshly cut tea leaves. By freshly cut, let me be clear: a trolley was brought to the table with all manner of varieties of tea, still growing. I selected pineapple and lime, and our server proceeded to trim the leaves fresh before pouring boiling water from a pivoting silver urn right in front of us. Hot steam flooded the surfaces. The smells were delicious.

All senses fully engaged.

Like every stage that had gone before, the preparation and presentation of this culinary journey was an elaborate performance.

Every plate described in detail to us by knowledgeable servers.

Each dish prepared and delivered with gueridon service — I learned this means table-side service in which the final presentation of the food is carried out in front of the diner, to enhance the experience with confident flamboyance.

The whole event — and it is a dazzling event — is carried out under the direction of Executive Chef John Williams MBE.

I left dazzled and inspired. I could have stayed there indefinitely, but as the clock approached midnight — concerned perhaps that my carriage might return to a pumpkin and I be outed as the imposter I felt when I entered six hours earlier — I headed back out into the warm Mayfair air.

The doorman, of course, was there to boost me on my way.

“Thank you for dining with us this evening, sir. Is there anything I might help you with?”

There was nothing else.

I was thoroughly and genuinely satisfied as I reflected on an unforgettable evening that was at once surreal and empowering.

(I learned afterwards that it’s good form to thank chef and let him know how you found the food. A faux pas on my part, although my own insecurities would never have had me consider that he’d even be interested in my thoughts. Perhaps he might read this article and see how fully grateful I was.)

A word about my host

The friend who so generously spent Monday evening lifting my sights as described did so entirely unexpectedly, and full of grace.

I learned many a lesson from him, as well as from the experience itself.

Perhaps chief among those lessons was his manner.

As he glided freely around the hotel I was struck by his personal affinity with so many of the staff. From Maître d'hôtel to porters, he recognised — and was recognised by — all with genuine warmth and humanity.

He sprinkled good feeling liberally as he went, with personal touches in conversation which can only make people feel seen and appreciated.

Again, a common theme from the night.

A note of caution

I understand that some may read this article cynically, for a number of reasons:

• I may be taken to be boastful of an experience that a good Brit should keep under his hat. I’m not. I’m simply reflecting on something wonderful that I was fortunate to enjoy.
• You might consider such extravagance to be vulgar. I’d disagree — all such measures are relative — but you are of course entitled to that.
• Some might live such occasions as part of their every day life, and perhaps wonder at my wonder. I’d encourage such people never to forget that very wonder of the first time.

All of those objections are fine, of course.

But I choose to live life with a healthy serving of wonder and gratitude.

And for that I am entirely unapologetic.

Another world does exist.

I’ve seen it.

You, dear reader, are a First Class Human Being.

I see now that I am, too.

I choose to lift my sights so that I can experience again— and deliver to others — truly first class service.

I invite you to do the same.

I will be back at The Ritz.

I made that promise to myself as I sat enjoying the beautiful piano just yards away as our evening came to a close.

But next time, I plan to return the favour to a friend who may not realise— though I never tried to hide my gratitude or wonder — just how he shifted my entire world with his peculiar generosity.

Perhaps I’ll see you there.

And next time, I’ll be sure to give my compliments to the chef.