Passable hospitality is quite common, and maybe even good hospitality.
But why is ‘Great’ hospitality so hard to find, and why is it that the more you look and the more you experience, the harder it is to just be satisfied? The answer may have something to do with how differently hospitality is expressed across cultures.
Ikou ze. Let’s go, mate. Tara na.
There are many reasons for the lack of ‘great’ hospitality: not the least being that humans are just infinitely nitpicky organisms whose expectations continue to rise as they get habituated and used to new things. But to me, one of the most interesting reasons is just how culturally dependent hospitality is.
Whether it’s a restaurant, a clothing store or a hotel, global brands aspire to achieve some level of worldly consistency under the impression that when you do things by the book, you’ll be able to codify and execute the ultimate edge: delivering an excellent experience that only your brand can provide: a signature feeling that you just can’t get anywhere else.
But that’s where the similarities between the book and reality end.
I was recently on a high street in Southeast Asia where, as a reflection of our globalised world, global fashion brands, cafes and cosmetics stores had made their near-identical imprint. Many of the brands used the same design language that they used for their other stores at home in Japan and in Australia. The same fittings, textures, framed posters, couches, carpets. But for some reason, the experience just felt totally different.
Firstly, the context was different. The temperature, the surrounding city, and what passersby were wearing changed the significance of the space. For example, what was in one country was a pocket of sophisticated solace became a corner of extravagance and glitz despite looking almost exactly the same. The cultural context shifted what the actual symbols meant.
The cultural context shifted what the actual symbols meant.
But the biggest difference was in the element that is hardest to control: the human service itself. Whereas you might clothe staff in the same way or give them some basic training as to how to close a sale, it’s much harder to shift the way they intrinsically relate to people.
How Culture Shapes Service
For example, I like to describe Japanese service, without having to use the word omotenashii, as having 4 P’s: It is Predictive, Proud, Prescribed and Polite.
‘Predictive’ in that it is based on a culturally ingrained empathy to be a step ahead of what someone might need and have it even before they ask. It’s something that’s taught early on implicitly, and an empathy I see my Japanese two-year-old exhibit more intuitively than I could ever aim to muster myself.
‘Proud ‘in that it is not subservient, but rather a role to protect in and of itself: have you ever seen or felt a staff member tell you that your request for a slight tweak to your coffee or food order wasn’t possible? Then you know.
‘Prescribed’ in that it’s by the book: there’s a template for great service, and it’s followed.
And lastly, ‘Polite’. Sometimes it’s warm, sometimes it’s vibrant, but for the most part it is polite, so as not to impose on whatever state of mind the customer might be in.
Visitors to Japan marvel at this: the perfected rhythms, the seeming perfection. And even if the brand might be from the UK, the US or France, chances are the service you will get in Japan will still be as above.
Now go to the same global café, store or hotel in the Philippines, and you might get what I like to call 3 S’s instead. It’s Spirited, Spontaneous and maybe, a little Spicy. Spirited in that you get the full ‘Mabuhay’ spirit: all its warmth, its smiles, its care. Spontaneous in that you might not know exactly where the conversation will take you, because a good time takes priority over any template, and Spicy, because there’s no telling what banter, lively joke, and laughter might emanate from the interaction.
Now to another place, this time on the opposite end of the earth, Australia. Service in Sydney might be characterised by another letter of the alphabet: this time, 3C’s. Community, Camaraderie, and a Casual vibe. It’s here where a little touch of banter, the true possibility of becoming a friend, and just a general relaxed nature give off the egalitarianism and free spirit that characterise the culture, all bottled up in a little service interaction.
Sure, the flow of the experience might be a little less than perfect, but it is real.
Each of the service cultures above have their own traits, and whether those traits are seen as strengths or weaknesses, seen as ‘Great Hospitality’, really depends on the eyes and ears of the beholder. If you’re used to the 3 S’s of the Philippines, you might find the 3 C’s of Australia somewhat lacking in energy and vibrance, maybe cold even. But if you’re used to the 4 P’s of Japan, you might want a little more attention to detail and ritual from the spontaneity of the Philippines.
What Can Global Brands Do?
So, what to do if you’re a global brand trying to manage all of this?
There are a few ways you might tackle it.
The first, and most exciting, is the ‘Best of Both Worlds’ mentality, borrowing from one of my favourite Van Halen songs. You see this increasingly in Sydney and some other multicultural parts of the world. Where the service and interactions are lively, casual and community focused, but you might suddenly see someone walk around the counter to hand you your purchase and escort you to the door and see you on your way out. A Japanese service cue that was borrowed, as it made someone feel special and then combined with that ‘Fair Dinkum’ spirit of Australia.
In Japan you also see the opposite. There are now many Australian-style cafes serving up a mean flat white and avo on toast in an equally Newtownesque environment with hip young staff listening to chill hop. They borrow an Australian-style casual approach to service, letting out their true personality, but execute with Japanese precision and predictability.
I saw the same in the Philippines recently: a third-wave café but without the ritual procedure of Japanese pour-over, instead replaced with Filipino brews and the full warmth of that culture. Hotels also do this well. You’ll get most of what you’re used to, and maybe, just maybe, someone might drop a hint that they’ve got a stash of mangos in the back, leaving you the only table in the dining room with those national treasures.
Another way is to set expectations around the service culture using the brand itself. When the environment, visuals, communications and beyond all connect to the service about to be delivered and prime people for what to expect.
For global brands this might mean giving up on the illusion of total and utter consistency and just making things feel a bit more at home.
You don’t really get surprised when you get cold and nasty service at an underground streetwear brand or get some unexpected banter at a grandpa’s izakaya at a side street in Tokyo. The environment and everything around the ‘brand’ make you expect it. For global brands this might mean giving up on the illusion of total and utter consistency and just making things feel a bit more at home.
The third way is also common. To try and hammer out the inconsistency and bring people in from elsewhere to enforce a common human standard. While this might be okay in terms of keeping some things in the brand consistent, it is not only difficult but also stamps out the joy of human service. Alongside cost, chasing this consistency is probably a reason for the increasing number of self-service kiosks and machines.
At worst, this creates a negative feedback effect: when you reduce people to cogs and the wheel, they begin to see their roles as just that and give it a little less love too. I can already see how this is contributing to a dip in overall service standards and culture in some cities, cities that once delivered stellar and proud service in even the cheapest fast-food places. It also makes the world, and travel, a lot less interesting.
So, in short, ‘Great Hospitality’ is hard to find really because it’s not something you can define with absolute consistency. As the world becomes a beautiful melting pot (regardless of whether some like that or not), brands will find it difficult to deliver ‘great’ all the time, precisely because we all have our own expectations grounded in the roots and the soil that make us who we are. It makes things a little more exciting, keeps us a bit more open, and exposes us to the diversity of the real world, outside of our own echo chambers.
And it’s exactly the reason why it’s still nice to go out there, into the streets, and enjoy the last remaining fronts of humanity that brands can still deliver, if they so choose to preserve it.
John Corleto is Strategy Director at Landor in Japan.
