We often hear from hospitality professionals who’ve built up years — sometimes decades — of experience and start to wonder what else that knowledge might be useful for. After long stints on the floor, in management, or opening venues from scratch, many people begin to ask the same question: how do you step sideways without stepping away?
Consultancy is one of those paths that gets talked about a lot, but explained very little. It can sound opaque, intimidating, or like something you “graduate into” only if the right person taps you on the shoulder. In reality, it’s a role built on lived experience, judgement under pressure, and an ability to see the bigger picture — all things hospitality people develop in spades.
Sebastian Fogg is a brilliant example of what that transition can look like. With over 30 years in hospitality, Seb has worked across neighbourhood restaurants, landmark openings and multi-million-dollar projects in London, New York and Los Angeles. From opening The Delaunay, Monkey Bar NYC and Soho House West Hollywood to consulting for some of the most respected restaurant and hotel groups in the industry, his career is grounded in doing the work.
In this Career Spotlight, Seb shares an honest look at what hospitality consultancy actually involves, how his career evolved towards it, and whether it could be a viable next step for others looking to use their experience in a different way.
How did you get into your current role?
I have returned to my consultancy role, alongside working as a therapist and coach, following a couple of years as Operations Director at Maison François and Café François. I originally entered consultancy as I finished my time at Corbin & King Restaurants, where I was General Manager at The Delaunay, and wasn’t sure what to do next.
I spoke to my friend Adam Hyman (CODE founder) and my former boss Zuleika Fennell, who both suggested consultancy. I then sought out Des McDonald, my former boss at Soho House and Caprice Holdings, to understand how to market myself. Other wonderful former colleagues helped me with the details I needed, and I launched myself into the unknown. I was worried after a couple of months, until another former colleague introduced me to Skye Gyngell at Spring, who signed me to mentor her GM and help with the business.
What’s been the hardest thing about your career journey so far, and how did you get through it?
As with most of us, it’s been my own stuff getting in the way. I was always looking ahead, driven by a constant “what’s next?” mentality. This helped in some places and hindered me in others.
My therapy mentor once said to me, “You are always focused on the destination and missing the journey.” Since then, I’ve slowed down a touch.
When working for yourself, you have to balance doing the work with searching for new work. Networking is key — face to face where possible — and keeping your network updated on what you’re doing. Stay present. Stay in touch.
What’s the realistic salary range for a role like yours?
In an operations role, six figures is attainable and realistic. The key is experience. I’ve seen many people with little experience move into operations roles and struggle, not because they lack ability, but because they lack on-the-ground understanding.
You have to be able to speak to the KP, the MD and the owner at their level. If you can’t, you’re found out very quickly. Take your time, learn your craft, work at every level, understand each part, and you will flourish. Funnily enough, this is where hotels are often ahead of restaurants — they value the time and experience needed to fully understand an operation.
How has your earning potential changed over time?
Negotiation. My first GM job was at Monkey Bar in New York. I came from a country and work culture that disdained talking about money. In America, there’s no holding back. Luckily, Jeff Klein, one of the owners, was a straight talker, so I asked for what I thought I was worth — and he agreed.
Think about what you bring and how valuable you are, and ask for it. As an employer, I never set salary bands. I asked candidates how much they needed to earn and then tried to match or exceed it. Scraping a thousand pounds off someone isn’t a saving — it becomes resentment. If you don’t value the candidate, why are you hiring them?
What’s the most unexpected part of your role?
Being the sounding board for the owner. In any organisation, you can vent downwards and upwards — until you reach the top, and then you can do neither.
When I first walked into The Delaunay as GM, a young runner came up to me and said, “Seb, are you OK?” I said yes, of course — and he replied, “It’s just the first time I haven’t seen you smiling.” No pressure, then.
I learned quickly that I had to keep my issues to myself, project confidence, and find the right people to talk to elsewhere. As a consultant, you often become that listener — effectively the business therapist. But it’s essential to seek proper training. It’s not ethically sound to place yourself in that role without it.
What’s the best part of the job?
The people. The opportunities I help create, watching individuals and businesses grow, and seeing the impact ripple across an organisation. Leadership is a privilege, not a right.
I’ve been incredibly fortunate to be mentored by great leaders — Corbin and King, Nick Jones, Graydon Carter, Skye Gyngell, to name a few. Finally, it’s seeing someone’s face light up when you use their name. Learning names is the ball game in leadership — if you won’t make the time to learn their name, why should they go the extra mile?
What’s the hardest or most draining part?
It’s an all-encompassing role — you are never not working. Discipline around time with loved ones and with yourself is vital. I fell into the trap early on, and it’s only now, a decade later, that I understand if I’m not settled, I can’t give my best.
The seven-day rotation I choose to work needs constant monitoring. Am I going to the gym enough? Have I meditated? Not can I take a holiday, but when am I taking one. Next month I’m attending a Vipassana retreat — ten days with no speaking, no phone, just meditation. My clients all know, and I work around it to honour my commitments. I need this time to centre myself and understand my process better.
What skills matter most in your role, beyond the obvious ones?
Listening. It is the ultimate skill. Not waiting to speak — really listening.
I volunteered for a couple of years at The Listening Place, a suicide prevention charity. The training was comprehensive and taught me what listening really is. It’s the same in business. That point you think is the game changer can wait. Listen 80%, speak 20% — the therapy model applies to business too.
People want to talk about themselves — it’s the subject they know best. Take the time to hear their story. It matters to them, and it will matter to you.
What did you have to learn the hard way?
How my unconscious patterns blew up relationships. I ended jobs poorly and damaged relationships that took years to build — and years to rebuild.
It’s never about what you think it is. What’s really happening? Why are you being triggered? When did you first feel like this as a child? That’s what’s actually going on.
The other big lesson is the mirror principle: what I don’t like about someone else is usually what I don’t like about myself. Think about that next time you feel the urge to explode. It’s not them — it’s you.
What advice would you give to someone trying to break into this role today?
Take your time. Talk to as many people as you can. A client once told me, “Everyone has 15 minutes,” and he’s right.
Use the channels available — it’s far easier today than it used to be. DM people you admire, ask for a call, and don’t stop. Remember Beckett’s line: “Try again. Fail again. Fail better.”
What’s the best piece of advice that YOU were given?
Ultimately, from Chris Corbin and Jeremy King — via the incredible maîtres d’ who trained me: Jesus Adorno, Kevin Lansdown, John Andres and Fernando Peire — the advice was to be curious. Who are the guests? What brings them here? Get to know them.
The advice that changed my career most came from Mitch Everard, my GM at The Ivy in the 90s: “Seb, you need to get your name into the conversation. Until then, you’ll just be ‘the nice chap with the glasses.’”
So I started doing this: “Hello, we’ve never been formally introduced — my name’s Seb.” That transformed my career.
