Lunch at a highly-rated restaurant. The room was beautiful, the food superb, the service technically flawless.

But when we compared notes at the end of the meal, my host sighed: “We might as well have been served by robots.”

The team members weren’t really seeing us — they were working through a checklist.

It took a while to figure out why they lost their Michelin star.

Same brilliant chef. Same exceptional food. Same beautiful setting. The craft remained, and yet the star was gone.

Their new maître d' was quite a character — charismatic, flamboyant, full of energy. Within months, the restaurant had become a stage for his personality.

At one hotel I worked at, we would all arrive fifteen or twenty minutes ahead of morning prayers — the daily 8:30 am management meeting. Seating was first-come, first-served, and everyone wanted to sit as far away as possible from the GM.

When in a foul mood, he would zero in on someone and attack their competence, their commitment, or their character. If we spoke up in defence of a colleague, the fire was turned on us. So we sat in silence, avoiding eye contact, hoping there would be only one sacrificial victim that day.