I spent twenty-seven years in the hospitality industry. General manager. Financial controller. Properties across the United States and the Caribbean. I loved the work — the pace of it, the complexity of it, the privilege of being part of the experience people had when they walked through the doors of a great hotel.
But somewhere along the way, I noticed something. The part of my job I kept returning to — the part I woke up thinking about, the part I stayed late for, the part that energised me even on the most draining days — wasn’t the numbers or the operations. It was the people.
What Hospitality Taught Me About People
Managing teams in hospitality teaches you things about human nature that you can’t learn from a textbook. When the kitchen falls apart at 7 p.m. on a Saturday, you find out very quickly who rises under pressure and who falls. When a guest is unreasonable and the staff member handling them is running on four hours of sleep, you see character in real time.
Over years of hiring, training, managing and occasionally letting people go, I became fascinated by a question: why do some people seem to make everything effortless while others — equally qualified on paper — struggle to find their rhythm?
The answer, I eventually understood, was strengths. Not skills — though skills matter. But natural talent themes: the recurring patterns of thought, feeling and behaviour that, when given the right environment, become genuine excellence.
The Moment Everything Changed
I was working with a team member who was technically proficient at his role but clearly unhappy. His performance was declining and we were heading toward a difficult conversation about his future. On a hunch, I sat down with him — not to discuss performance, but to ask him what he loved. What energised him. What he’d do differently if he could.
Within twenty minutes it was obvious. He was a natural connector, a relationship-builder, someone who could hold a room together through the sheer warmth of his presence. And I’d put him in a back-of-house analytical role where he worked alone for eight hours a day.
We hadn’t failed to develop him. We’d failed to see him. The talent was always there — we just hadn’t built the space for it to show up.— Michael, MCMATHIUS
We redesigned his role. Within ninety days, his performance had transformed. So had his energy. So had the team’s dynamics. That single conversation — with the right framework behind it — changed the trajectory of someone’s career.
And it changed mine too. Because I realised that conversation was what I was built for.
The Transition
Leaving a twenty-seven-year career isn’t a small thing. There’s identity wrapped up in it — your title, your salary, your sense of where you fit in the professional world. I had to be honest with myself about what I was walking toward, not just what I was walking away from.
I became a certified international coaching consultant. I trained with Gallup and became a Certified Strengths Coach. I built MCMATHIUS from the ground up — not as a pivot or a reinvention, but as an expression of what I’d always been best at, finally given its full space.
What I Know Now That I Wish I’d Known Earlier
- Your strengths are not what you’re good at. They’re what energises you. The distinction matters enormously.
- A career built on skills alone will exhaust you. A career built on strengths will sustain you.
- It’s never too late to align. I made my biggest career pivot in my fifties. The investment I’d made in every role before that became fuel for the work I do now.
- The people around you already see your strengths. Often more clearly than you do. Ask them.
The path to your most meaningful work isn’t a departure from who you’ve been. It’s a deeper understanding of who you’ve always been — and the courage to build your life around that.
If you’re at a crossroads — a career decision, a leadership challenge, a question about your next chapter — I’d love to be part of that conversation. Not because I have all the answers, but because I know what the right questions look like.
