Why I Chose Hospitality (And Why It Probably Chose Me First)

If you asked me why I chose a career in hospitality, the easy answer would be: I grew up in the thick of it as a hotel/expat brat.

My childhood was marinated in the aromas of hotel kitchens, the polished cadence of concierge greetings, and the quiet authority of white-jacketed men who knew the difference between Béarnaise and Hollandaise. My father was one of them - a rising star in his day, the youngest Sous Chef at the Hilton in his mid-twenties, and Executive Chef not long after, back when those titles actually held weight and not just LinkedIn clout.

My parents inaugurated a Graesslin family tradition of meeting one's future spouse at their place of employment, at the Hyatt Regency Manila. My mother was the Executive Assistant to the GM, my father the incoming Executive Chef. It was less “corporate merger,” and certainly proverbial “love at first sight” sealed with a shared love for precision, discipline, and the finer things in life.

Our family did its fair share of globe-trotting for the sake of the my Dad's burgeoning career - first pitstop was Auckland then Rotorua, in New Zealand, then halfway across the globe to Dubai (mind you this was the early 1990's when sand outweighed skyscrapers), thereafter a hop, skip & jump across the gulf to the tiny enclave of Bahrain. In a plot twist none of us saw coming, we ventured south of the equator to Nairobi, Kenya where I ended up finishing up high school. By this time, my father had long ascended to the role of General Manager, complete with the bells, whistles, expense account, and a mobile phone the size of a Wheaties box.

So, by the time I was wrapping up high school in 1997, the decision felt inevitable. I was old-school that way - I wanted to follow in his footsteps, wear the tailored suits, speak the language of menus and margins, and make him proud. Not to mention, the hospitality industry already felt like home. Chaotic, relentless, unscripted home.

The Irony of Hospitality School

When I landed at what would be my base camp for the next 3 years at Les Roches, the famed Swiss hospitality school perched in the Alps, I expected to meet like-minded dreamers. What I met instead were two tribes:

1. The hotel heirs: future CEOs of family empires who looked permanently bored and whose tuition was likely paid in gold bullion.

2. The accidentals: students using the degree as a launchpad to pivot into banking, fashion, or anything but hospitality.

Meanwhile, I was actually there because I wanted to be. And now, 30 years on, I remain one of the few who never left the industry.

Me as a young, budding hotelier ready to take on the world, one disgruntled diner at a time!

Why I Stayed

Because I love taking care of people. Not in the “can I offer you some foie gras?” perspective, but in the sincere, soul-level satisfaction that comes from crafting an experience someone didn’t even know they needed. Creating a memorable experience from an otherwise mundane act of feeding one's self.

Hospitality is, at its core, an act of service. And service - real service - requires humility, resilience, and a level of patience that few possess, let alone embrace. It’s also a masterclass in dealing with entitlement. There's always that one guest who thinks shouting louder makes the steak cook faster.

But here’s the thing - I’ve always found joy in turning those moments around. There’s a quiet power in taking a guest who's borderline volcanic - or worse, fully erupted - and sending them off with a smile (and sometimes dessert). And as I matured, I learned the even greater skill: avoiding the eruption altogether through training, discipline and a strong culture.

The Real Reward

My proudest achievements? They’re not about numbers or titles. They’re about people. Like Mohammed Waseem, a young man I hired on a recruitment trip to India back in 2006. No formal experience. No polished resume. But he had that indescribable spark - presence, humility, and hunger to learn.

I brought him on as a food runner - the lowest rung on the ladder - but he accepted it with grace and humility. Over the years, he took every bit of training seriously. While many in my training sessions were dozing off or playing Angry Birds, he was laser focused, asking questions, and absorbing everything I had to give. He climbed up the ranks swiftly, often to the chagrin of his peers - but he didn't care, and neither did I. I don't play politics, and I will always promote people based on merit alone. Within five years, he wasn’t just serving tables - he was running the entire restaurant as General Manager, replacing me as I departed to test the waters in the world of Investment Banking. Years later, he sent me a photo of his family standing outside their brand-new home in Bangalore. That picture meant more to me than any award or bonus I’ve ever received. That is what makes the job worth it.

If I Could Go Back…

Now for the twist ending.

If I had to do it all over again… would I still choose hospitality? Honestly? No.

But for that story - you’ll have to tune in to the next episode!

(And trust me, it comes with more plot twists, fewer napkin folds, and hopefully zero mystery shoppers.)