A few years back, I was at a bar in New York. Someone mentioned I ran a concierge service, and a guy nearby leaned over — he had an emergency. “If you can get me a table at Nobu tonight,” he said, “I’ll sign your retainer right now.”

He wanted 8 p.m. I made a couple of calls, came back, and told him I had good news and bad news. “What’s the bad news?” The bad news is I couldn’t get you 8 o’clock. “What’s the good news?” I got you 8:30. He pulled out his checkbook and wrote my retainer on the spot — right there, in front of everyone.

People assume that was luck. It wasn’t. The only reason I could do it was that I had the direct line to the phone in Nobu’s kitchen. Everyone else was calling the host stand, and that line was always busy. You could not get through unless you knew someone. I knew someone.

But the phone number was never really the secret. It was proof of something deeper.

“Sold out” almost always has a “something”

When a restaurant says they’re fully booked, there’s nearly always something they can do. Whether they do it for you comes down to one thing: the strength of the relationship. There are a dozen ways to land a tough table, but for me it boils down to relationships I’ve built over 25, 30 years — and being kind to people the whole way. It’s the same in New York, the same in Las Vegas where I’m based now, the same anywhere a table feels out of reach.

Here’s the part nobody talks about: it’s a reflection on me — and on you. Money helps; it doesn’t hurt to have it. But it matters far less than people think. If I send a client who’s rude to the staff, doesn’t tip, or leaves a bad footprint, that comes back on me — and it spends down a relationship I’ve spent years building.

So a real concierge does something that sounds backwards: I manage the client; I don’t let the client manage me. Every favor I call in, I have to know the person is worth it — that’s how you keep the favors there to give. Over the years I’ve tried to give more than I ask, so that when I do ask, the answer is yes.

What this means for you

If you want to become the kind of guest restaurants take care of, be kind, tip well, and leave a good footprint — every time. It compounds. The people who get the “impossible” table aren’t always the richest; they’re the ones the staff is genuinely happy to see.

And when it absolutely has to happen — the anniversary, the closing dinner, the night that can’t go wrong — and you don’t have 25 years of relationships to lean on, that’s exactly what someone like me is for.

The table was never really the product. The relationship was.

— Chris Hammett, Scierge