Either everyone is a VIP or Nobody is

One day, when I arrived for my shift, I noticed that the entire evening management team was running around the hotel with wide, panicked eyes. “Oh my God, a VIP guest is arriving soon!” “They just called — he’ll be here in five minutes!” How I hate that expression: “VIP guest.” Many hotels have a practice of giving VIP guests a special welcome, and I have absolutely nothing against giving certain guests additional attention. On the contrary, if someone has specific needs, preferences, or an important reason for their visit, it is our responsibility to do everything possible to make their stay perfect. But there is something else that has always bothered me: in the chaos surrounding the arrival of one “special” guest, the team can sometimes start to forget that everyone else exists. Does a young couple travelling with a child deserve less meticulous room preparation than the owner of a major local company? Should we fail to congratulate a guest on their anniversary simply because the team is busy waiting for a VIP guest? Does someone who has just arrived after a long flight suddenly become less important simply because their name is unfamiliar to the entire management team? To me, the answer is obvious: no. And this, in my opinion, is where we begin to contradict the very essence of hospitality.

The problem is not that we give someone additional attention. The problem begins when giving additional attention to one guest automatically means giving less attention to everyone else. Luxury hospitality should not operate on the principle: “This guest matters more.” It should operate on the principle: “This guest has different needs.” Those are two completely different things. One guest may prefer a particular brand of water, another may be celebrating a wedding anniversary, a third may be visiting the city for the first time, a fourth may be preparing for an important presentation the following morning, and a fifth may simply be travelling with a small child who has not slept throughout the entire journey. All of them may need completely different types of service. But none of them becomes less important. And this, in my view, is what true personalization is really about: not determining who deserves more attention, but understanding what matters to this particular person.

I have always believed that the true level of a hotel is not tested when a VIP guest arrives. At moments like that, the team is usually at its most prepared: everyone knows who is coming, when they are arriving, which room has been prepared, which amenities should be placed, and which details need to be checked. The real test begins when ten other things are happening at the same time. One guest is calling the Front Desk. Another is waiting for luggage assistance. A third needs help making a restaurant reservation. A fourth has arrived early. A fifth cannot find the right exit. And the team is waiting for one particular person. Can we still make everyone else feel seen? This is where true luxury service begins. Because a guest should never have to compete for our attention with another guest — not with a celebrity, not with the owner of a major company, and not with someone who has paid more. Hospitality is not a competition between guests for the attention of the staff.

During my time at Four Seasons and Hilton, I tried to explain one simple idea to my teams: every guest should feel like a VIP, but not every guest should be served in exactly the same way. This is not a contradiction. On the contrary, this is precisely the difference between standard and personalized service. Sometimes a guest needs a detailed explanation of everything the hotel has to offer. Sometimes they need their check-in to be as quick as possible because they look completely exhausted. Sometimes all it takes is noticing the art book in a guest’s hands and recommending an exhibition in the city. Sometimes it means simply congratulating someone on their anniversary because somebody noticed that important date in advance. An employee can follow every step of a standard procedure and still completely fail to see the guest in front of them. Or they can do something incredibly simple — but exactly what that particular person needs at that particular moment.

Perhaps this is why I dislike the word VIP. It too easily turns people into categories. Important and unimportant. Special and ordinary. Priority and secondary. But in hospitality, we should not ask ourselves: “Who is this guest?” We should ask: “What matters to this guest?” Because ultimately, a guest may forget the brand of water we placed in their room. They may not remember how many times we used their name. But they will almost certainly remember whether they felt seen. And perhaps the real VIP guest is not the person who makes the entire hotel run around with wide, panicked eyes. Perhaps it is the person who leaves the hotel thinking: “They really noticed me here.”

Because in hospitality, the most important guest should never be the reason we forget everyone else.