Let's be honest. You're probably doing it right now. Swooping in. Fixing it. Saving the day. You think you're being a good owner, a good boss. I'm here to tell you, you're dead wrong. Every single time you solve a problem for your restaurant staff or bar team, you're actively making your business weaker.
TLDR:
- Empower your hospitality team by stepping back and allowing them to own their challenges, fostering true capability.
- Cultivate a problem-solving culture where staff learn by doing, not by being told, building resilience and confidence.
- Free yourself to focus on the bigger picture, knowing your venue's day-to-day operations are handled by a capable, proactive team.
I know, I know. That flies in the face of every instinct you have. Your venue is your baby. You built it. You know how everything works, how every little snag needs to be dealt with. When a new server, let's call her Chloe, is flustered on a packed Friday night, struggling with a complex allergy order and a queue of impatient faces, your gut screams, "Jump in! Take over!" And you do. You march over, calm the customer, punch in the order yourself, and send Chloe off with a reassuring pat and a half-hearted instruction. Crisis averted. Or was it?
I say, no. Crisis postponed. And a learning opportunity, a moment of profound development for Chloe, utterly squandered. You didn't help her; you disarmed her. You taught her that when things get tough, she doesn't need to find her own way through it. She just needs to wait for you to appear, like some kind of hospitality superhero in a slightly stained apron, to rescue her.
Why does fixing everything hurt your service?
Think about it. Every time you step in and provide the answer, you're essentially telling your staff, "I don't trust you to figure this out." You're reinforcing their reliance on you. You're preventing them from building the mental muscle they need to navigate the chaos of a busy service. What happens when you're not there? What happens when you're on holiday, or dealing with a supplier issue, or simply in the kitchen when the next fire breaks out on the floor?
I once watched an owner, much like you, constantly step in. His bar team was good, solid, but they never quite reached that next level of excellence. The reason? He was too good at putting out fires. A customer sends back a cocktail? He'd remake it himself. A booking mix-up? He'd be on the phone, apologising profusely, moving tables around. He was the ultimate safety net. But safety nets, while comforting, don't teach you how to fly.
Chloe, after you 'saved' her from the allergy order, might have felt momentary relief. But she didn't learn how to break down a complex order under pressure. She didn't learn how to calmly communicate with an impatient guest. She didn't learn how to access the information she needed, or how to ask the right questions of the kitchen staff. She just learned that you're the one with the answers. And that's a dangerous lesson for any hospitality venue.
How can I trust my bar team to get it right?
This is the biggest counter-argument, isn't it? "But what if they mess it up? What if they lose us a customer? What if it costs us money?" And yes, those are valid concerns. There's a fine line between letting them learn and letting the business bleed. But I'm not advocating for anarchy. I'm advocating for considered, deliberate empowerment.
Let's take another scenario. Your reliable barista, Mark, calls in sick five minutes before opening on a Saturday. He's the only one who truly understands the nuances of your temperamental espresso machine. Suddenly, Chloe is on the coffee station, and the machine starts sputtering. Your first thought is to call Mark, or rush in yourself. My opinion? Don't. Not immediately.
Instead, go to Chloe. Not to fix it, but to ask. "The machine's acting up. What do you think is going on? What have you tried? What are your options? Who else on the team might have an idea?" Guide her through the thought process. Help her identify the resources at her disposal. Maybe there's a manual. Maybe another team member, less experienced than Mark, has seen him do something similar. Maybe she needs to call the supplier's emergency line. The point is, she is doing the thinking, she is exploring the solutions.
She might get it wrong the first time. The coffee might be a bit off for an hour. You might lose a few quid on wasted beans. But what you gain is invaluable: a team member who knows how to troubleshoot, how to take initiative, how to solve problems when the usual safety net is gone. That's worth more than a perfect flat white every single time.
What happens when staff find their own solutions?
When your restaurant staff and bar team are given the space to figure things out, even to stumble, something remarkable happens. They start to own their roles in a way they never could when you were always hovering. They connect their actions to outcomes. They see a challenge not as a brick wall, but as a puzzle to be solved.
They begin to understand the wider implications of their decisions. If Chloe figures out how to manage a difficult customer on her own, she doesn't just solve that one problem; she internalises a process for future interactions. She understands customer psychology better. If she troubleshoots the coffee machine, she learns about its mechanics, about the flow of service, about resourcefulness.
This isn't just about making your job easier (though it absolutely will). It's about building a robust, resilient venue that can weather any storm. It's about cultivating a team that doesn't just execute tasks, but actively improves processes, anticipates issues, and takes pride in their collective ability to deliver exceptional service, even when things go sideways.
They become more engaged. More invested. They start to see their role not just as a job, but as an integral part of a thriving operation. And that, my friends, is when your venue truly starts to shine.
So, next time you see a problem brewing, fight that instinct to jump in. Take a breath. Ask a question. Step back. Let your team wrestle with it. They might surprise you. More importantly, they'll learn something that no amount of your 'saving' could ever teach them.