The Standard

If I walk into a restaurant and the bathroom is dirty, we’re leaving.

Doesn’t matter how good the reviews are. Doesn’t matter if we just sat down. Doesn’t matter if everyone else at the table wants to stay.

My kids know it. My friends know it. It’s not even a discussion at this point — it’s just a fact about me, like knowing I love coffee or that I am almost obsessively wired to think around the corner. To anticipate. To see what’s coming before it arrives. I don’t always get it right — but the instinct never turns off.

A dirty bathroom tells me everything I need to know about what’s happening in the kitchen. About what the people running that place actually care about when no one important is watching.

The little things are never just the little things.

I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately — about standards, and what it actually means to have one.

Not the version you put in your bio. Not the one you describe in a listing presentation. The real one. The standard you hold yourself to when the deal is slow and nobody’s paying attention and it would be very easy, very human, to let something slide just this once.

That standard — or the absence of it — is the foundation everything else is built on.

I spent years working inside luxury brands, watching how the best ones operated. And the thing that always struck me wasn’t the marble lobbies or the thread counts or the price points. It was the consistency. The way the standard didn’t waver depending on who was watching or how busy things got.

Horst Schulze, one of the founders of the Ritz-Carlton, built an entire operating philosophy around this idea. The standard wasn’t handed down from the top and reluctantly followed — it was owned. By every person in the building. From the general manager to the person turning down the beds at night. The idea was simple and radical at the same time: you are a lady or a gentleman serving ladies and gentlemen. That’s not a job description. That’s an identity.

And when the standard becomes identity, it stops being something you have to remember to do.

It just becomes how you operate.

Here’s what I’ve noticed across industries, across markets, across every level of production I’ve ever worked alongside:

Most people don’t have a defined standard. Not really.

They have intentions. They have a general sense of wanting to do good work. But they haven’t sat down and decided — specifically, deliberately — what they will and won’t accept from themselves. What the non-negotiables are. What the little things are that matter to them even when no one else is keeping score.

And so things slide. Gradually, quietly, in ways that feel completely reasonable in the moment.

The follow-up email that goes out a day late. The detail in the listing that doesn’t get double-checked. The client who doesn’t hear from you between milestones because nothing urgent has come up. The personal touch that got dropped somewhere in a busy quarter and never came back.

Nobody says anything. But people notice.

They always notice.

So here are a few questions worth sitting with — not to judge where you are, but to start defining where you want to be.

What does your standard actually look like — written down, specifically? Not “I provide great service.” The actual behaviors. The response time. The follow-through. The things you do every single time regardless of the size of the deal or the difficulty of the client.

What are the little things that matter to you — even when no one is watching? The bathroom test, in whatever form it takes for your business. The details that tell you — and anyone paying attention — what you actually care about.

Where have you been letting things slide? Not as a judgment. Just as an honest look. Because the slide is almost always gradual. And the first step to reversing it is being willing to see it.

Does your standard still fit the season you’re in? This is the one people miss. A standard that served you in Season One won’t carry you through Season Three. Your clients’ expectations grow as your business grows. The standard has to evolve ahead of that — not scramble to catch up after.

If you settled for less than your standard in your business — would the people around you settle for less too? Worth thinking about.

Having a standard isn’t rigidity. It isn’t perfectionism. It isn’t about being difficult or demanding for its own sake.

It’s confidence. It’s knowing your worth and building a business that reflects it. It’s the thing that makes you recognizable — not because of your marketing, but because of how you actually show up, every time, in the moments that don’t make it into your highlights.

The standard is the foundation. And eventually — when you hold it long enough, when it becomes second nature, when it stops being a checklist and starts being who you are —

It becomes the craft.

There’s a lot more to say about that. We’ll get there.

Jen McAlpine writes Grow with Grit — real estate, big decisions, and life’s complicated moments, from someone who actually gets it. Learn More About Me.