A Hibachi Disaster Taught Me About Expectation Management
Today I went to shadow a hibachi chef — just observing, not cooking. Since I wasn’t operating, I wasn’t supposed to get any tips either.
But what I didn’t expect was that the biggest lesson of the day had nothing to do with cutting steak or controlling heat. It was about how to communicate with people.
”I’ll Be There in Five Minutes”
Before heading out, the chef I was shadowing told me he’d be about five minutes late and asked me to arrive first and greet the customers.
No problem. I got there and told the customers the chef was on his way — about five minutes.
Five minutes passed. No chef.
He texted me: sorry, it’ll be about 20 minutes. I went back to the customers and explained again.
Twenty minutes passed. Still no chef.
By the time he finally showed up, he was 45 minutes late.
The Customers’ Patience Ran Out — Minute by Minute
Put yourself in the customers’ shoes: you’ve paid good money, invited friends over, set up the table, and you’re ready for a great meal — then the chef is 45 minutes late. And it wasn’t a one-time “I’ll be 45 minutes late.” It was five minutes, then twenty, with your patience chipped away bit by bit.
Every “just a little longer” was borrowing against their trust.
When the chef finally arrived, he didn’t apologize or explain — he just started cooking. The whole session was tense. The customers were clearly unhappy.
When it was over, they left zero tips.
I Did Something I “Wasn’t Supposed To”
The chef was about to leave. I stopped him and said, wait a moment.
I went back to the customers, looked them in the eye, and apologized. I told them their experience today wasn’t acceptable and I was truly sorry. I gave them the company’s customer service number and encouraged them to call right away — the company would likely offer a significant discount.
As I was leaving, one of the customers stopped me and handed me $100.
She made a point of saying: “This tip is for you. Don’t share it with your chef.”
I Gave It All to the Chef
Once I was outside, I handed the entire $100 to the chef. The reason was simple: I didn’t cook today. I didn’t cut a single piece of meat or flip a single spatula. That tip shouldn’t have been mine.
The chef was decent about it — he gave me $48 back and said it was for gas. I didn’t argue.
Two Lessons From This Experience
First: Never Set the Wrong Expectations
If the chef had said upfront, “I’m going to be about 40 minutes late,” would the customers have been upset? Of course. But it would have been a one-time disappointment.
Instead, saying five minutes, then twenty, then forty-five — that’s getting slapped in the face over and over. Each broken promise doubles the frustration.
This isn’t just a hibachi thing. It applies to product launches, project delivery, client relationships — everything. Tell a client you’ll deliver next week, then push it three weeks while saying “almost done” every week? That’s how you lose trust.
It’s always better to set expectations low and over-deliver than the other way around.
Second: When Things Go Wrong, Communicate First
The chef was 45 minutes late. That couldn’t be undone. But if he’d taken two minutes to sincerely apologize and explain when he arrived, the outcome could have been completely different.
People care about how you make them feel. Being late? That’s understandable. Being late and saying nothing? That’s what makes people angry.
Most of the time, things don’t fall apart because of the problem itself — they fall apart because nobody communicates after the problem happens. Silence doesn’t make the issue disappear. It just lets the other person fill in the blanks, and what they imagine is almost always worse than reality.
This Applies to Hibachi — and to Everything Else
Manage expectations. Maintain communication. Eight words that sound simple, but most people can’t do it when it matters.
Think back: the last time a project was delayed, did you tell the client right away, or did you wait until the last possible moment?
Understanding this is worth more than learning to flip a spatula.