The Best Guests Are Getting Harder to Find

(And the Ones Who Show Up with Grace Deserve a Damn Medal)

There was a time when you could spot them the moment they walked through the door.

Not by how they dressed. Not by how much they spent.
But by the way they looked at you. Like you were a human being.
Like this wasn’t a performance.

Now the good guests are getting harder to find.
Every time one shows up, we treat it like spotting a wild animal on a hiking trail; rare, beautiful, and a little unbelievable.

Ask anyone who’s still in the game.
Ask the host who gets screamed at over wait times they don’t control.
Ask the bartender who got asked if “a guy was around that could make their Old Fashioned instead?”
Ask the server who’s on their sixth double this week and still being told to “smile more.”

We used to think bad guests were just part of the job. Now there’s a new flavor of entitlement out there- one steeped in personal stress, social detachment, and a total disregard for the emotional labor that service still requires.

You want to know the wildest part?

We still show up.
Still fill the glasses.
Still get your order right when your words are wrong.
Still hold space for your secret Tinder date, your bad day, your celebration, your mess.
All while swallowing our own.

But the good guests?

They’re oxygen.

They ask how your night is going and mean it.
They wait patiently when things go sideways.
They look you in the eye when they tip.
They don’t talk about you like you’re invisible while you’re standing right there.
They say your name because they remembered it.

They’re not just good guests. They’re rare ones.
In a world where hospitality has been strained, bruised, and bled dry, they matter more than ever.

We remember them.
The woman who left a thank-you note on the receipt.
The couple who cleaned up after their kid without being asked.
The guy who noticed when a server was off and slid over a quiet “Are you okay?”
The regular who brings an extra coffee for the host just because.

You think those moments don’t register, but they do.
They’re burned into the brain like a tattoo you don’t regret.

Because in an industry where guests have been conditioned to believe “the customer is always right,” it’s a radical act to remember the person serving you has a life, a body, and a breaking point.

Here’s the truth:

Hospitality isn’t broken because workers don’t care anymore.
It’s fractured because too many of us cared for too long without being cared for back.

The shift in service you’re feeling is not laziness.
What you’re feeling is survival.

It’s the new generation learning boundaries- sometimes clumsily, but necessarily.
It’s the veterans finally saying, “Not today.”
It’s the host who doesn’t have time for your condescension because she’s covering three roles due to budget cuts.
It’s the cook who’s not rushing your plate because they’re still waiting for the damn onions, or whatever may be, that didn’t get delivered again.

It’s not about attitude.
It’s about capacity.

So, if you’re reading this, and you’ve ever worked in service, we see you.

If you haven’t, we still see you. And we’re asking you to see us back.

You don’t have to overdo it.
Just… be kind.
Tip like you understand inflation.
Speak like you weren’t raised in a barn.
If you’re having a bad day, don’t turn it into our bad day.

Because while good service is expected, good guests are earned.

If you show up with patience and humanity?
You’re not just helping the night go smoother.
You’re helping someone hold it together.
You’re giving someone a reason to come back tomorrow and do it all again.

That’s the real “customer is always right” moment:
When the guest chooses to be good, even when they don’t have to be.

For what comes after the story, visit Shift Notes. Shift Notes: Work, Craft & Moments That Linger

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