Hospitality

Covers, rooms, margins and inspections. What it takes to run a kitchen, a bar or a hotel in Britain, and where the money actually goes.

Weddings and conferences, and the deposit that carries you. A deposit taken eighteen months out is the cheapest money in hospitality. The Saturday it books is the most expensive thing you own.
Staffing a hotel that never closes. A hotel is open for every hour of every day. Somebody has to be awake for all of them, and the rota that achieves it is usually the one breaking the rules.
The refurbishment cycle, and what happens if you skip one. Nobody notices a tired hotel in year six. The market notices in year nine, and it prices you accordingly before anybody writes it in a review.
Service recovery, and the complaint that is worth money. The guest who tells you at the desk is doing you a favour. The one who says nothing and writes it up on Monday is the expensive one.
What a small hotel is actually worth. The seller says twenty-two bedrooms at £45,000 a room. That is not a valuation, it is an asking price. What you are buying is a profit, and the roof behind it.
Breakfast is the most expensive free thing you sell. Breakfast is included, so it looks free. It is the highest-cost, highest-labour, most wasteful hour of your day, and it is buried inside a room rate you set six months ago.
Allergens, and the label that carries criminal liability. Fourteen allergens, a label the law specifies, and a kitchen where the same tongs touch everything. The liability here is criminal, not commercial.
A food safety plan somebody will actually follow. The inspector does not open the fridge first. She asks for the diary, and what you have written in it decides most of what happens next.
The delivery app that takes a third of the ticket. Thirty per cent of the order is the headline. The VAT on the full menu price, the packaging and the dishes that arrive cold are the rest of the arithmetic.
The table that never turns up. Four covers held for two hours on a Saturday, and nobody came. Card holds and deposits fix it, if you can write a policy that does not read as a threat.
Pricing a wine list. A 70% margin on a £6 bottle is £14. A 60% margin on a £15 bottle is £22.50. You bank the cash, not the percentage, and most lists are built the wrong way.
Extraction, noise and the neighbours above. The lease is signed and the flue is not. Planning, the landlord, odour abatement and the flats above are four separate consents, and any one can stop you.
Putting tables on the pavement. Six tables outside is about twenty extra covers in good weather. The licence takes roughly a month, costs up to £500, and comes with conditions you must plan for.
Star ratings, and whether they still sell rooms. A star is a set of services you have to staff, not a compliment. Whether the grade above pays for itself depends entirely on who books your rooms.
Negotiating a corporate rate. One account that books forty room nights a month fills your Tuesdays for a year. The price of it is last room availability, which costs you your best nights.
Fire safety in a building people sleep in. Nobody issues a hotel a fire certificate. The Fire Safety Order names you instead, and since October 2023 the whole assessment has to be written down.
The restaurant inside the hotel. Most hotel restaurants are subsidised by the bedrooms above them. The number that decides whether yours is worth keeping is capture rate, and it is usually lower than you think.
Closing for the winter, and whether it pays. Closing for the winter does not stop the costs, it only stops the revenue. The question is whether a week of trading covers what that week actually adds.

Hospitality

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