In 2019, I wrote an article called Integrity. I went back and read it recently. Seven years later, after thousands more conversations, decisions, problems, customers and experiences, I realized something. I wouldn't change the principle behind it. At the time, I wrote about the different chapters of my professional life.
I had spent more than twenty years in the restaurant business, including running some of Philadelphia's best restaurants. We served celebrities, politicians, business owners, tourists and people simply having dinner. We handled weddings and private events. But regardless of who walked through the door, my philosophy was remarkably simple: Treat customers as though they were guests in your home. Treat the people working beside you with respect. And understand that everyone contributes to the experience.
Later, managing a bridal salon taught me something else about integrity. Sometimes good service means saying no. I learned fabrics, construction, alterations, veils, shoes and what could, and could not, realistically be done. I wasn't going to promise a bride something I knew couldn't be delivered simply because saying yes was easier in the moment. A promise that cannot be kept isn't good customer service. It's merely a delayed disappointment.
One of my favorite stories from that old article came from a completely different chapter of my career. I was working in theater and responsible for costumes when an actress became concerned about whether I could manage her complicated quick changes in a production of Driving Miss Daisy. She was a well known personality and knew, from experience, that Daisy is on stage throughout the entire play. Rather than argue with her or tell her how capable I was, I organized every outfit by scene, clothing, hats, gloves, shoes, jewelry, and showed her through the work. After rehearsal, the question was settled, she trusted me. She didn't miss one cue and was ready each time she had to change costumes. In fact, when the production continued to two other theaters, she didn't want to go without me. I didn't convince her to trust me. I gave her a reason to.
Years later, when I began planning weddings professionally, the environment changed again. The principle didn't. One of my earliest brides was a successful television producer planning a complicated New York wedding. She had strong opinions and had already frustrated some of the professionals involved. My job wasn't to take over her wedding. It was to understand her vision, respect who she was, apply my own experience and make the pieces work. They did.
Today, I've formalized another part of my career into client experience consulting. I use different language now. I talk about expectations, communication, operations, accountability, consistency and the gap between what a business promises and what its customer actually experiences. But when I reread that article from 2019, I realized I had been thinking about those things for a very long time. I simply called much of it integrity. And perhaps that's still the best word.
Integrity isn't something a business can declare about itself. Neither is trust. Customers discover both through what happens after the promise is made. Do you tell the truth when the answer isn't convenient? Do you know enough to recognize what you don't know? Do your actions match what you said you would do? When something goes wrong, do you own it? When someone places something important in your hands, do you treat that trust as something you've earned, or something you're automatically entitled to because a contract was signed?
I've spent my career in different rooms, restaurants, bridal salons, theaters, weddings, businesses. The work has changed. The standard really hasn't. You don't create trust by telling a customer you're trustworthy. The customer discovers whether you are by your actions and your reactions. Trust is something you earn by just doing it. And, integrity is knowing how to be honest when it isn't easy.
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