Unreasonable Hospitality

When was the last time you felt truly seen—not as a customer or colleague, but as a person? In Unreasonable Hospitality, restaurateur Will Guidara argues that the best way to create belonging and joy—at work or in life—is to give people more than they expect. Drawing from his journey transforming Eleven Madison Park from a good brasserie into the world’s best restaurant, Guidara contends that hospitality isn’t just an act—it’s a philosophy for how you lead, serve, and live.

The book’s central claim is simple yet radical: we live in a service economy that has forgotten the human. Across industries, people chase efficiency and digital engagement, but in doing so, they lose the irreplaceable power of generosity and care. Guidara teaches that being “unreasonable”—that is, willing to go above and beyond what logic, budget, or precedent allow—is the key to inspiring loyalty, elevating excellence, and feeling fulfilled yourself.

From Food to Philosophy

Guidara began his career steeped in restaurant service, learning from legends like his father, Frank Guidara, and restaurateur Danny Meyer. Over time, he realized hospitality wasn’t limited to fine dining—it was about how you make people feel, whether in restaurants, boardrooms, classrooms, or family dinners. He calls this the “hospitality economy”: an era where care and connection are the ultimate differentiators. The question every business should ask is not just how to deliver, but how to delight.

This was the insight that transformed Eleven Madison Park. After receiving two stars from the New York Times—good, but not great—Guidara and chef Daniel Humm set a ludicrous goal: to become the number one restaurant in the world. To do so, Guidara realized, they couldn’t just chase perfection on the plate; they had to pursue magic in the moment. They began obsessing not over transactions, but over transformations—moments that made guests feel special and employees feel proud.

Turning Black and White into Color

One of the book’s most memorable metaphors came from a job applicant who told Guidara, “Service is black and white; hospitality is color.” That distinction became his mantra. Service is duty; hospitality is artistry. Getting a steak delivered on time is black and white. Noticing someone’s nervousness and adjusting your tone to make them feel comfortable—that’s color. And when color becomes your culture, excellence becomes inevitable.

From that mindset, Guidara reimagined everything from employee training to guest greetings. At Eleven Madison Park, the maître d’ no longer stood behind a podium staring at a reservation system; instead, they greeted people by name, having studied their faces online. Coats were retrieved without tickets, aligning luxury with warmth. By removing transactional barriers, Guidara turned the restaurant into a living canvas of connection.

Why It Matters Beyond Restaurants

Guidara’s argument reaches far beyond food. He believes every field can benefit from unreasonable hospitality. When you teach, lead, or sell, your goal shouldn’t simply be efficiency—it should be emotion. Leaders across industries—from tech founders to real estate agents—can apply his lessons to create unforgettable experiences. After all, as Maya Angelou famously said (and as Guidara quotes often): “People will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but they will never forget how you made them feel.”

Hospitality as a Selfish Pleasure

Perhaps Guidara’s most counterintuitive insight is that great hospitality is selfish. It feels incredible to make others feel good. When you pour effort into care, you experience a sense of purpose that ordinary work rarely provides. Hospitality isn’t martyrdom—it’s reciprocity. The waiter who connects with their guests, the CEO who invests in their people, the teacher who remembers a student’s interests—all discover that generosity returns joy tenfold.

A Call to Be Unreasonable

Ultimately, Unreasonable Hospitality invites you to reject “reasonableness”—the voice that says “that’s not my job” or “that’s not in the budget.” Whether you’re managing a company, designing a product, or simply living daily life, Guidara challenges you to ask: What would I do for others if I knew I couldn’t fail? He believes this question is the true recipe for leadership and meaning. Be unreasonable not to impress, but to express care—the kind that changes cultures, careers, and lives.

Behind every magical moment, Guidara writes, there’s structure. He learned from his father that intention is the secret ingredient in hospitality: doing everything not by default, but with thoughtful purpose. The book returns repeatedly to this lesson—how small, deliberate choices compound into extraordinary experiences.

Intentional Parenting and Leadership

Guidara’s father modeled intention in daily life. Before heading to work, he would wake early to care for his quadriplegic wife, manage household tasks, and still make time to nurture his son. For him, being intentional wasn’t luxury—it was survival. This precision inspired Guidara’s leadership philosophy: whenever you take action, ask what outcome you want and why it matters. His question—“What’s the desired feeling behind every decision?”—became foundational at Eleven Madison Park.

When his chef-partner Daniel Humm wanted EMP to stand out in a crowded fine-dining scene, Guidara used intention to focus their dreams. They didn’t want just good food; they wanted a purpose. After listing goals—studying at Cornell, opening a restaurant in New York, marrying Cindy Crawford—he realized only fulfillment mattered. Hospitality, done with intention, was that path.

From Operations to Meaning

Intention turns mechanical work into creative craft. At the Metropolitan Museum of Art’s restaurants, Guidara managed cafeterias and coffee stands while learning that every operational decision—inventory, lighting, schedule—could serve human connection. This meant aligning efficiency with empathy. Restaurants, he realized, often confuse “restaurant-smart” with “corporate-smart”: one values individual artistry; the other prizes systems and metrics. He aimed to integrate both, creating a culture where creativity lived alongside accountability.

“Intentionality is doing a simple thing thoughtfully for a complex purpose.” —Will Guidara

The Rule of 95/5: Managing with Purpose

One of Guidara’s most useful models for intentionality is his Rule of 95/5: manage 95% of your business ruthlessly, then spend the last 5% “foolishly” to delight others. That final fraction—the beautiful spoon at the MoMA gelato cart, the luxury staff party, or the sleds bought for a family experiencing snow for the first time—is the color that defines hospitality. Leaders, he argues, should plan meticulously so they can afford generosity. Small extravagances, aimed at wonder, yield disproportionate joy and loyalty.

Balancing Systems and Creativity

Intentional leaders walk a fine line between control and creation. Whether managing food costs or crafting customer experiences, structure provides the freedom to improvise effectively. This paradox recalls the jazz metaphor running through his book—Miles Davis reinventing his sound through precision. Like Davis, a leader must rehearse deliberate fundamentals to improvise authentically.

Intentionality, then, is not about perfection but attention. When you ask why you’re doing something—aligning lights, greeting a guest by name—you stop reacting and start designing experiences. And when your motives are clear, every small act becomes a note in a symphony of care.

Guidara’s education in hospitality began under Danny Meyer, whose concept of Enlightened Hospitality forever changed his worldview. Meyer taught him that great service starts not with customers but with colleagues. “Take care of each other first,” Meyer insisted. That single phrase transformed Guidara from a manager into a culture builder.

Putting People First

Enlightened Hospitality flips traditional hierarchy: instead of focusing on investors or guests, prioritize employees. When they feel valued, they extend that care outward naturally. As Guidara saw at Tabla and Gramercy Tavern, this philosophy built loyalty and excellence simultaneously. The sommelier who rescued a guest’s champagne from exploding in the freezer—then added caviar and chocolates—wasn’t following a script; they were embodying genuine care.

Guidara replicated this pattern at Empire-level scale. When a diner worried about feeding a parking meter mid-meal, his team made it policy to handle it for guests—dropping quarters themselves. A simple act became a symbol: thoughtful attention transforms service into life-giving kindness.

Language Creates Culture

Cultures thrive on shared language. Meyer coined phrases like “constant, gentle pressure,” “be the swan,” and “athletic hospitality”—each a memorable shorthand for excellence. Guidara absorbed this as theology. Having words turns instincts into teachable behaviors. Employees at Union Square Hospitality Group learned to “make the charitable assumption”—to extend grace before judgment. That phrase alone shaped hundreds of micro-interactions: asking “Is everything okay?” instead of “You’re late again.”

The Power of Trust and Enthusiasm

At Tabla, manager Randy Garutti embodied leadership through unflagging enthusiasm. His mantra—“Make today the very best day of your life”—showed how positivity spreads contagiously. By trusting his young staff and giving them keys literally and figuratively, Garutti inspired ownership: people worked harder when they saw his faith in them. That energy built reciprocal respect, laying groundwork for Guidara’s later culture of empowerment.

From Cult to Culture

Insiders joked that Meyer’s restaurants operated like a cult. Guidara realized this was precisely the point: strong cultures feel transformative. When excellence and care become contagious, organizational devotion isn’t manipulation—it’s meaning. “Cult,” he muses, “is what people who don’t invest in their culture call companies that do.” His takeaway: when people feel proud of where they work and who they serve, joy becomes the competitive advantage.

No vision thrives without discipline. Guidara’s contrast between corporate-smart and restaurant-smart reveals how creativity and structure must dance together. Too much control suffocates innovation; too little drains profitability. His journey through Restaurant Associates was a crash course in finding equilibrium.

Learning the Numbers

Working in the MetLife Building’s basement, he divided his days between counting oysters and balancing ledgers. The lesson? Art without arithmetic fails. Understanding food costs, inventory, and P&L statements gave him tools to lead with confidence—proof that hospitality isn’t guesswork but granular mastery. Every detail mattered: lobster prices, detergent suppliers, dish racks. By knowing the math, he could later afford extravagance—the Rule of 95/5’s generous “foolishness.”

When Systems Stifle Humanity

Still, there’s danger in over-systematizing. At Restaurant Associates, moving a floral vase triggered inexplicable corporate disapproval—it violated “Arts and Design protocol.” That moment epitomized sterile bureaucracy: rules blind to real human connection. Guidara learned that leadership means reclaiming the freedom to say, “Yes, move the vase—because it helps the guest feel seen.” Control must serve creativity, not crush it.

Finding the Middle Path

Corporate-smart and restaurant-smart coexist best when joined by trust. The efficiency of data and systems matters—but they should liberate people to focus on creativity, not limit them. His father’s principle guided him again: “Run toward what you want, not away from what you don’t.” For Guidara, that meant creating environments that were disciplined enough to thrive, but free enough to shine.

This balance underpins Unreasonable Hospitality’s entire philosophy. Creativity without accountability burns bright but short; accountability without imagination suffocates. When leadership respects both, every plate, policy, and person can sparkle with intention.

At Eleven Madison Park, collaboration wasn’t a buzzword—it was architecture. Guidara turned a hierarchical restaurant into an ecosystem of ownership. His insight? People give more when they’re trusted with more.

From Ownership to Empowerment

EMP’s “ownership programs” invited young employees to lead specific domains—beer, tea, coffee, cocktails, linens, even silverware routing—making each a miniature CEO. Kirk ran beer, Sambath tea, Jim coffee, Leo cocktails. Delegating authority ignited purpose. Kirk’s enthusiasm alone drove EMP’s beer program to national acclaim. Empowerment transformed responsibility into artistry—a model any company can mirror.

Learning Through Teaching

In weekly “Happy Hours,” staff taught peers about wine, history, or New York lore. Teaching deepened their mastery. Hospitality isn’t learned from manuals; it’s learned from storytelling, from sharing pride. Allowing servers to lead pre-meetings redefined leadership—turning captains into communicators and shy employees into confident speakers. The act of teaching created community.

Mandatory Collaboration and Listening

To ensure collaboration stuck, Guidara made some acts mandatory. New hires had to improve part of the reservationist’s cluttered office; small creative wins built ownership. Listening followed naturally. When someone proposed an idea—even a weak one—it was discussed respectfully, not dismissed, preserving momentum. Creativity, he discovered, flourishes under encouragement, not judgment.

Guidara’s mantra—“Great leaders create leaders”—captures the end goal. When authority decentralizes, collective intelligence multiplies. Collaboration becomes self-replicating, like yeast in dough: nurture it, and it grows everywhere.

By the time Eleven Madison Park earned its third and, later, fourth New York Times star, Guidara had learned that excellence is the sum of countless tiny details executed with care. Perfection itself may be unattainable, but pursuing it elevates everyone involved.

Precision in Every Inch

Guidara’s perfectionism—adjusting picture frames, respreading bedsheets—became his superpower. Dining rooms were choreographed ballets: light dimming precisely with sunset, servers moving in invisible traffic patterns, each Limoges stamp on a plate facing the guest. Such unreasonable precision wasn’t about aesthetics—it symbolized respect. As he quotes Walt Disney, “People can feel perfection.” When attention permeates everything, guests feel care even in silence.

The One-Inch Rule and Human Excellence

In EMP’s kitchen, a fallen garnish represented broken focus across an entire chain of effort. Guidara taught his “One-Inch Rule”: follow through fully to the last inch. Excellence, like integrity, depends on endings. That metaphor extended beyond plates—into follow-ups, farewells, and leadership itself.

Embracing Human Error Gracefully

Ironically, excellence also required humility. When a guest complained that a medium-rare steak looked too rare, Guidara trained servers to say “Absolutely, sir” rather than defend correctness. “Their perception is our reality,” he declared. Excellence isn’t about proving yourself right—it’s about making others feel right. This principle became a mantra across industries (similar to Ritz-Carlton’s empowerment philosophy).

Excellence, he concludes, isn’t a state—it’s a movement. Every day is rehearsal. Every detail matters because it compounds into trust, and trust, once earned, makes ordinary service extraordinary.

Ambition, Guidara warns, can become obsession. After EMP’s meteoric rise, burnout loomed. He discovered that hospitality without self-care collapses under its own excellence. Restoring balance was both moral and practical—because you can’t give oxygen without first breathing it yourself.

Slowing Down to Speed Up

When an exhausted cook showed up ten hours early for a shift, Guidara realized the pursuit of perfection was consuming his team. He invoked a new law: slow down to maintain speed. Removing extra flourishes, hiring more staff, and shortening menus allowed consistency to recover. Like mindfulness in leadership (compare Simon Sinek’s Leaders Eat Last), this recalibration kept both spirit and standards alive.

Finding Oxygen Through Culture

Inspired by a friend’s work at a psychiatric hospital, Guidara introduced the Deep Breathing Club: when team members felt overwhelmed, others whispered “DBC.” The cue meant “pause and breathe—we’ve got you.” What started as stress management became a culture of empathy. Later, another innovation emerged: touching the lapel to signal “I need help.” These gestures normalized vulnerability, proving that strength in service depends on being supported.

Balance Beyond Business

Balance wasn’t just for employees—it shaped guest experience. When stress drains sincerity, guests feel it instantly. By protecting rest, transparency, and human rhythm, Guidara made long-term excellence sustainable. His revelation: hospitality may look effortless, but it requires deliberate emotional alignment—the same harmony musicians chase during improvisation. In taking care of his team, he rediscovered why hospitality matters: because genuine joy cannot be faked.

What separates good hospitality from legendary hospitality? Improvisation—the ability to see, act, and surprise in real time. Guidara’s unplanned “street hot dog” moment captures this perfectly. When guests lamented missing a New York hot dog on their culinary tour, he sprinted outside, bought one, and had chef Humm plate it with sauerkraut and relish like fine art. It became their most memorable dish—worth more than any caviar.

Systemizing Surprise

The hot dog inspired a new discipline: improvisational hospitality. EMP began designing a system for spontaneity, hiring “Dreamweavers”—creative artisans tasked with manifesting magic. Christine McGrath initiated handwritten notes; artist Emily Parkinson later painted guests’ meals, handcrafted gifts, and built themed experiences like private beach dinners or anniversary recreations. These acts reflected empathy as art.

The Power of Legends

Each surprise became what Guidara called a Legend—a story guests would tell forever. Whether a teddy bear sewn for a child or champagne waiting in a hotel room, each gesture turned memory into myth. The point wasn’t monetary; it was emotional. “It isn’t the lavishness of the gift that counts, but its pricelessness.” The best gifts, like Ruth’s Chris Steak House’s secret calamari or a personalized snack box for airline travelers, cost little yet mean everything.

Scaling Human Generosity

Guidara emphasizes that magic can be systemized through tool kits—replicable ways to deliver surprise. From Empire State Building tickets to hangover recovery bags, his teams built templates that allowed effortless improvisation. This philosophy extends beyond restaurants: real estate agents could replace dull champagne gifts with personalized yoga mats for homebuyers; car dealers could send booster seats or coffee kits. Wherever humans interact, opportunities for generosity abound.

Improvisational hospitality proves that excellence isn’t about luxury—it’s about listening. When you notice, adapt, and act with playfulness, you make ordinary moments unforgettable. In Guidara’s world, that’s what being unreasonable really means.

Guidara closes his story with an entrepreneur’s next chapter: taking EMP’s culture of care and building Make It Nice, the group behind The NoMad and beyond. The lesson is clear—you can scale intimacy if you scale culture.

Culture as Yeast, Not Glue

Instead of fixing culture through rigid rules, Guidara nurtured it organically. He transplanted EMP veterans as “sourdough starter” to seed values within new teams. Their habits—trust, enthusiasm, ownership—infected others. Culture wasn’t documentation; it was contagion. Training and storytelling kept essence alive without dilution.

Learning That Leaders Must Apologize

During NoMad’s launch, Guidara tried to manage both restaurants simultaneously, stretching himself thin. When EMP faltered, he publicly apologized, admitting failure and promoting his former beer captain Kirk Kelewae as GM. That moment of humility rebuilt morale, proving that leadership isn’t infallibility—it’s accountability. “When you show vulnerability,” he writes, “your team forgives your mistakes and believes in your humanity.”

Protecting Purpose in Growth

As Make It Nice expanded, he faced the challenge of staying human at scale. Creativity became a practiced system: meetings modeled after the Beatles’ collective writing, blending discipline with experimentation. The NoMad’s design, music, and storytelling all celebrated intentional indulgence—luxury with soul.

Rediscovering Simplicity and Closure

Guidara’s later chapters chart EMP’s final transformation—“back to basics.” Simplifying menus, replacing scripted speeches with conversations, and refocusing on grace restored authenticity. Hospitality returned to its essence: being delicious and gracious. When EMP finally became the world’s #1 restaurant, Guidara understood the paradox of success—it wasn’t about grandeur; it was about generosity. True scale doesn’t mean bigger; it means deeper.

After parting ways with his chef-partner, Guidara applied the same principles to his own life: doing what’s right over what’s easy, building new ventures rooted in care, and advocating for the hospitality industry’s survival during the pandemic. His closing reminder echoes his father’s wisdom: always ask, “What does right look like?” and “How can I make it nice?” Whatever your field, that’s unreasonable hospitality in practice.