You Can’t Copy-Paste a Relationship
I recently spent time at Rosewood Kindred, a gathering of Rosewood’s general managers and executive team and a select group of travel partners. A lot of the content circled back to the company’s purpose: to create a future where people and place enrich one another.
The word that stuck with me was future. A company purpose written that way is an indication of a long-term bet, and it changed my perspective on the questions I ask. Instead of “what does this get me right now?”, a future purpose thinks “what does this cost me later?” I’ve been running everything through that filter since Kindred, and it turns out to apply to most of what’s below.
Tools for our businesses, not our jobs
I get pitched on a lot of travel tech and spoiler alert: they all sound the same. Pitches packed with words like generate, suggest, plan, build. Never invoice, collect, forecast, follow-up.
I have a hunch that if most independent contractors were men, not women, the advisor industry might get the seriousness it deserves. They aren’t though, so instead we get AI itinerary builders, chats that interface directly with your client and tools that recommend what to do & where to eat. As an agency executive, it’s not just disheartening, it’s borderline insulting.
Advisors are business owners. The hard parts of their week are collecting commissions, keeping a pipeline full, knowing which clients are worth the time and understanding what they earned last quarter. Itinerary creation is the part advisors are already good at.
A word of caution to my advisor friends. If what you sell to clients is “putting a trip together”, you’ll probably soon be competing with a free chatbot and you’ll eventually lose. What a client pays for is your judgement, point of view, access and someone to trust. Use tools that help you move faster, give you real insight, and treat you like the business owner you are. Don’t let the tools become the reason someone hired you.
Carbone is open in every city. Where did discovery go?
Carbone started as a tucked-away red-sauce restaurant in the West Village. It now has nine locations, including Las Vegas, Miami, Dallas, Hong Kong, Doha, Dubai and Riyadh. And each one serves practically the same menu.
Dante, a century-old Greenwich Village café, now sits inside the Maybourne Beverly Hills and Claridge’s in Mayfair. And Gymkhana, one of London’s best-known restaurants, is a brand of sauce and marinades on Whole Foods shelves.
This is not really a new phenomenon. Who doesn’t have a guilty pleasure chain restaurant? What feels new to me is the insane speed, and shrinking map. It feels like Miami, Dubai, London and Manhattan are absorbing nearly every major food group opening. Throw in Aspen, the Hamptons and St Barths, too. The pattern looks an awful lot like expansion tends to follow real estate and wealth, rather than actual food culture.
I’m not out to blame anyone here. The food at these places is good! I ate at Carbone Riviera in Las Vegas this summer and genuinely enjoyed it. The atmosphere can be great! But what happens to the heart of a city’s food culture when the most desired table is the same one in Vegas, Miami and Manhattan? Discovery used to be the reason we traveled. Now are we just making the same reservations in new places?
What loyalty actually looks like
This year reminded me that not everyone who’s with you when things are going well will stay when they aren’t. Whatever anyone was hoping would knock me down hasn’t.
What I have noticed though, is who showed up anyway. A text without an agenda. A “I hear you, I’m here”. Colleagues who made it clear where they stood without being asked. I’ll always remember those people.
Travel is quietly a female-dominated industry. Most travel advisors are women, and a lot of people holding it together behind the scenes are too. And yet the room still feels small, and somehow the quickest way to a seat is to make someone else look smaller. I get why it’s tempting. I’m guilty of it myself. It also tends to work…right up until people notice.
The other version is quieter and lasts longer. It’s the woman who says your name in a room you’re not in, forwards an intro without being asked, and who treats your wins like good news, not a scoreboard. We all know those moments.
Putting someone down is an easy move and it’s a right-now move. It’s like a professional version of the fast-food drive through. Instant and satisfying but you’re totally regretting it an hour later. Lifting someone up & calling out the assholes takes longer, but it compounds. It’s always worth it later. Next time life gives you the choice, let’s take it through the Kindred filter: what does this cost me later? Usually more than right now is worth.
You can copy and paste a menu in every city in the world. Can’t say the same for relationships.
