Tag Archive for: Trust

Introduction – Becoming My Own Project

This series of articles was never part of a plan.
For most of my professional life, I have been asked to analyse businesses, hotels, projects, organisations, and occasionally the people leading them.
I would arrive in an unfamiliar place, ask questions, review reports, challenge assumptions, search for root causes, identify risks, and try to understand why things were performing as they were.

Over time, I developed a certain methodology:

  • Observe
  • Listen
  • Dive deep into the business
  • Challenge assumptions by asking hard questions
  • Follow the evidence
  • Look for patterns
  • Distinguish symptoms from causes

And eventually ask a simple question: What is really happening here?

For the last 15 years, I applied this approach to others. 
First as an independent adviser, then with a team of fellow specialists carefully assembled over many years, and eventually, in parallel, as a sector coordinator for a development bank.
My work brought me into contact with entrepreneurs, family businesses, investors, institutions, and banks across a wide variety of countries, cultures, and business environments.
Looking back, I believe I have helped many small and medium-sized businesses grow, adapt, or recover.
It is a heartwarming feeling to have done something meaningful.

The framework with the development bank was retired for all participating advisers, bringing my own involvement to a close after eight years of uninterrupted service.
Assignments ended. Roles changed. Professional priorities shifted.
After more than twenty-five years in hospitality and advisory work, I found myself entering a period of transition.
For the first time in a very long time, I had the opportunity to stop and reflect.
Frankly, the timing was probably good, if not overdue.

For years I had spent too much of my time away from home, moving between assignments, hotels, airport lounges, and meetings.
Suddenly, I had time for family, long walks with the dog, and, for once, plenty of time for myself.

Initially, the objective was practical. I wanted to improve my professional positioning.
Like many professionals approaching a new phase of their career, I was reviewing old projects and thinking about what I wanted to do next.
But the exercise gradually evolved into something else.
Instead of asking where I had worked, I started asking what I had learned.
Instead of reviewing achievements, I started reviewing experiences.
Instead of analysing businesses, I became the subject of my own analysis.

The process was not entirely comfortable.
For the first time, I became the subject of my own hard questions.
Looking backward rarely is. Some memories involved success.
Others involved mistakes, disappointments, failures, conflicts, poor judgement, misplaced trust, and lessons learned the hard way.

Titles changed. Projects came and went. Countries changed.
Yet something else happened.
As I reconnected with people from different periods of my life, some conversations resumed as if no time had passed at all.
Others never happened. Some doors remained open. Others had quietly closed. A few I chose to close myself.

The lessons remained.

The articles in this book are not intended as management theory written from an academic distance.
Nor are they intended as a memoir.
Rather, they are an honest reflection on experiences that shaped how I think, how I lead, and how I understand the world today.
They are also a reflection of what I have come to believe matters most.

Some lessons came from hospitality itself. Others came from remarkable people.
Some emerged from advisory work.
And some came from life outside hospitality altogether.

Together, they tell a story that took me many years to understand. 
Not the story of a career. The story of the person behind it.

Looking back, I realise that hospitality taught me much more than how to run hotels.

It taught me curiosity, and…

  • Perseverance
  • Respect
  • Calmness
  • Leadership
  • Responsibility
  • Trust

… and eventually, humility.

Whether these lessons will resonate with others, I do not know.
But they have helped me understand myself.

Before deciding where I wanted to go next, I first needed to understand how I had arrived here.
And perhaps that is reason enough to write them down.

And by doing so, perhaps I will discover what else there is to learn.

About the Author

Raoul Gransier is a Senior International Adviser and owner-focused hotelier with more than 25 years of operational and advisory experience in hospitality, tourism, governance, and performance improvement.

Website

https://gransier.com

The Professional I Could No Longer Trust

Not every lesson arrives through success and admiration.
Some arrive through disappointment, hurt, and betrayal.

One of the most capable professionals I encountered during my career taught me exactly that.
Her expertise was genuine. She opened the door to my early career in advisory work. I learned from her. Significantly. We collaborated, exchanged ideas, developed opportunities, and worked together over many years.

At least that was how I understood the relationship.

Over time, circumstances changed. A client relationship moved elsewhere.
People I had worked with were pursued under false pretenses to join her for a very promising opportunity.
Looking back, I no longer view the events as a misunderstanding or a difference in perception.
The consequences were significant, both professionally and personally.
What had taken years to build—relationships, concepts, and frameworks—disappeared remarkably quickly.

The commercial, contractual, and legal consequences were not the most important part of the story.
The real lesson was different. The experience forced me to confront a possibility I had previously preferred not to consider.
Professional competence and personal trustworthiness are not the same thing.

For a long time I struggled with that conclusion.
Not because I did not understand what had happened.
Rather because I found it difficult to reconcile the contradiction.
How could somebody demonstrate such professionalism in one area and such poor judgement in another?

Years passed.

I struggled. I adapted. I rebuilt.
I developed new capabilities and new business lines.
I strengthened structures that reduced dependency on individuals and created greater resilience.
In many ways, this experience reinforced a theme that would later become central to my professional thinking: governance.

For me, governance is not bureaucracy.
Governance is the operating system of decision-making.
It creates clarity around decision rights, accountability, expectations, information flows, and risk.
Proper governance does not eliminate human error or poor judgement.
It does, however, reduce ambiguity and make organisations less vulnerable when trust is tested.

One principle gradually emerged from this experience.
Revenue should not be chased directly.
Trust should be built. Revenue is often the consequence.

Over time, my frustration diminished.
My conclusion remained.
The professional relationship ended because trust had been broken.
Some things can be repaired. Others cannot.

Yet something interesting happened.
My respect for her professional capability survived.
I continued to recognise her expertise.
I continued to acknowledge the contribution she made to my own development.
The relationship ended. The lessons remained.

That distinction took years to understand.
It would be easy to reduce the story to heroes and villains.
Reality is rarely that simple. Neither are people, nor me.

Looking back, I learned two lessons:

  • One about commercial thinking
  • One about character

Both were valuable. Only one survived the relationship.

Reflection

This article is about discernment: the ability to recognise that competence and trustworthiness are not the same thing.
Competence creates confidence. Trust creates relationships. The difference matters.

This is the fifteenth of a series of articles – “What hospitality taught me about myself” – in which I share lessons learned throughout my professional and personal journey, and how those experiences have shaped my thinking and led me to develop my own principles.

When I was younger, I believed competence naturally created trust. Experience taught me otherwise. Competence creates confidence.

Trust creates relationships. The two often appear together. Occasionally they do not.
The difference matters.

Some of the most successful people I have encountered were not necessarily the most trustworthy. Some of the most trustworthy were not necessarily the most successful.
The rare individuals possess both. Those are the people worth keeping close.

About the Author

Raoul Gransier is a Senior International Adviser and owner-focused hotelier with more than 25 years of operational and advisory experience in hospitality, tourism, governance, and performance improvement.

Website

https://gransier.com

Trust is the Final KPI

For many years, I believed that successful projects could be recognised quite easily.

Revenue increased. Profit improved. Market share grew. Guest satisfaction rose. Budgets were achieved. Property value improved. Debt service secured. Investment plan on schedule.

The numbers told the story. At least that is what I thought.

Then I started noticing something.

When I looked back on the projects that remained most meaningful in my memory, I rarely remembered the final spreadsheet.
I remembered the people.

A conversation years later. An unexpected phone call. A recommendation. A friendship.
A door that remained open long after the assignment itself had ended.
Or occasionally, a door that closed forever.

That observation forced me to reconsider what success actually meant.

One organisation in particular taught me this lesson.
The engagement lasted several years. The discussions were often challenging. The expectations were not always aligned.
At times I pushed harder than the organisation wished to move.
At other times the organisation moved more slowly than I wished to accept.

There were disagreements.
There were difficult conversations.
There were moments when it would have been easier for both sides simply to stop talking.

Yet something survived.
Trust.

Years after the project ended, the relationships remained. The conversations remained. The respect remained.
Even some of the disagreements remained.
What disappeared was the need to be right.
What remained was confidence in each other’s intentions.
That fascinated me.

The project itself had eventually stopped.
The relationship had not.

And that forced me to ask a question. What exactly had been created?
Certainly not a report. Certainly not a spreadsheet. Certainly not a KPI.
The answer, I believe, was trust.
Not blind trust. Not emotional trust. Professional trust.

The confidence that somebody will tell you the truth even when it is uncomfortable.
Also when it’s myself on the receiving end.
The confidence that disagreement does not imply disloyalty.
The confidence that criticism serves improvement rather than politics.
The confidence that intentions remain aligned even when opinions differ.

Looking back, I increasingly believe trust is one of the most misunderstood assets in business.
Everyone talks about it.
Few measure it.
Yet organisations built upon trust can survive extraordinary pressure.
Organisations without trust often struggle even under favourable conditions.

The same applies to partnerships. Teams. Families. Perhaps even countries.
Trust rarely appears on a balance sheet.
Yet its absence eventually appears everywhere else.

Reflection

This article is about trust.

Not the trust that exists when everything goes well, but the trust that survives disagreement.
The more mature I become, the more suspicious I become of success that destroys trust.
The immediate outcome may appear attractive, but the long-term cost is often invisible until it arrives.

Agreement proves little. Trust reveals itself when people remain connected despite conflict.

For many years I searched for better metrics. Today I sometimes wonder whether trust was the metric all along.

About the Author

Raoul Gransier is a Senior International Adviser and owner-focused hotelier with more than 25 years of operational and advisory experience in hospitality, tourism, governance, and performance improvement.

Website

https://gransier.com

The Most Admirable Hotel General Manager I Know

Over the years, I have worked with many Hotel General Managers.
Some were commercially brilliant. Some were operationally exceptional. Some were charismatic. Some were disciplined. Some were feared. Some were respected.

One in particular remains in my memory.
Not because he was the most analytical, or achieved the best KPIs.
And certainly not because he was the most demanding.
In many ways, he is my opposite. His teams genuinely love him.
Not merely respect him. They love him.
There is a difference.

He is approachable, patient, and genuinely interested in people.
He remembers names, families, birthdays, concerns, and successes.
People naturally want to do well for him.
I admire that. Because – even if our worldview is the same – I could not do it the way he does.
My instinct has always been different. I gravitate toward structure, numbers, expectations, analysis, and systems.
When faced with a problem, I look for causes.
He looks for people first.

Yet over time, something interesting happened.
He became increasingly curious about the commercial and operational logic behind the business.
Not because he wanted to become more analytical, but because he wanted to become more effective.
He started asking different questions.
Questions about profitability. Questions about assumptions. Questions about consequences. Questions about why things worked the way they did.
And then he did something important. He did not abandon who he was. He incorporated what he learned into who he already was.

The result was remarkable.
The warmth remained. The humanity remained. The connection with his teams remained.
But now there was additional clarity, additional discipline, and additional understanding.

Eventually he was promoted.
The promotion surprised nobody. Least of all me.
What impressed me was not the promotion itself.
It was his evolution. He did not become somebody else. He became more complete.
Perhaps more.
He taught me that leadership is not merely about achieving better numbers.
It is about becoming the best version of yourself. The numbers are often a consequence rather than the objective.

His path happened to be different from mine. And that was precisely why it was valuable.

Reflection

This article is about how authenticity taught me that leadership begins with understanding who you are.

This is the tenth of a series of articles – “What hospitality taught me about myself” – in which I share lessons learned throughout my professional and personal journey, and how those experiences have shaped my thinking and led me to develop my own principles.

Throughout my career, I have encountered many leaders who tried to imitate others.
The successful ones rarely did. The strongest leaders usually possess a deep understanding of who they are.
They then build upon that foundation, not by replacing their strengths, but by complementing them.

The most memorable Hotel General Manager I know taught me a lesson I continue to carry today.
People do not follow perfection. They follow authenticity. And authenticity becomes more powerful when combined with curiosity and a willingness to keep learning.

I hope it has provided some food for thought, encouraged curiosity, and inspired you to keep learning.

Curiosity, humility, and continuous learning remain among the most valuable tools we possess.

About the Author

Raoul Gransier is a Senior International Adviser and owner-focused hotelier with more than 25 years of operational and advisory experience in hospitality, tourism, governance, and performance improvement.

Website

https://gransier.com

International Financial Institutions (IFIs)

Years later, I entered institutional advisory work.
It was a very different world from hotel operations.

Instead of guests, employees, and owners, I found myself working with:

  • Banks
  • Donors
  • Development programmes
  • Procurement frameworks
  • Governance structures
  • International advisory assignments

The objective was simple: Help businesses grow. Create jobs. Strengthen local economies.
Use public and donor funding responsibly.
Much of the work was rewarding. Some of it was frustrating.

What surprised me was how similar the underlying challenges were to those I had encountered in hotels.

  • People remained people
  • Ambition remained ambition
  • Fear remained fear
  • And trust remained fragile

The larger the system, the easier it became for reality and representation to drift apart.

  • Reports could look better than facts
  • Processes could look stronger than implementation
  • Compliance could exist on paper while problems continued underneath
  • Whenever reality and representation diverged, difficulties eventually emerged

The larger the gap, the larger the consequence.

Over time, I realised that governance is often misunderstood.
Many people see governance as bureaucracy.
I came to see it differently. Governance is simply the process of managing expectations.
Who is responsible? Who decides? Who is accountable? Who knows what? What happens when things go wrong?

Without clear answers, trust slowly erodes.
That observation reinforced something I had learned many years earlier in hotel operations.
Integrity is not a slogan. It is alignment between what is said and what is done.

I achieved many positive things through international development programmes and remain grateful for the opportunity to contribute to the growth of many small and medium-sized businesses.
The work convinced me that IFI institutions remain necessary where markets, public administration, or political systems alone cannot adequately support economic development.

But it also taught me that no institution, process, or governance framework can substitute for personal integrity.
In the end, every system still depends on people choosing to do the right thing when nobody is watching.

Thank you for reading my article.

This article is about how institutional work taught me that trust is built when reality and representation remain aligned.

This is the ninth of a series of articles – “What hospitality taught me about myself” – in which I share lessons learned throughout my professional and personal journey, and how those experiences have shaped my thinking and led me to develop my own principles.

I hope it has provided some food for thought, encouraged curiosity, and inspired you to keep learning.

Curiosity, humility, and continuous learning remain among the most valuable tools we possess.

About the Author

Raoul Gransier is a Senior International Adviser and owner-focused hotelier with more than 25 years of operational and advisory experience in hospitality, tourism, governance, and performance improvement.

Website

https://gransier.com