to sound loudly indicating that the ‘period of play’ in his imaginary ‘game’ was over. It was now time to go to the dressing room. In a flash, just like an on-stage magician, he quickly disappeared into thin air, hidden in his office.

My face was covered in tears. I couldn’t stop laughing! The restaurant was in an uproar. Guests were laughing so hard…one guy literally fell off his chair. The waiters were laughing, the guests were laughing, I was laughing and all the while Julie was having a ball too. Here was a restaurateur who made his work fun.

I had not met one of these types before. I really liked and respected this fellow. But I figured then, and still today, that anyone who had that much fun…and made that much money…must know something the others didn’t. And he did

In a recent article, I told the story of when I was a young whippersnapper, attending classes at what was then and still is called “one of the more famous hotel schools in North America", the marketing professor gave us an interesting, but quite challenging assignment.

We were to find a hospitality business that marketed itself by using the participation of the owner as part of the “distinctiveness” of the business. At the time, this seemed like a most difficult assignment, because in those days, it seemed that not too many people really stood out in this field. At least that what it seemed like to me in my youth. Or maybe it was just that they didn’t want to either make a fool of themselves. There seemed little need to drive the world to their door. I chose a very different restaurant enclosed within an old 19th century Mansion in this very cosmopolitan city. It was called Julie’s Mansion and was owned and operated by a very eccentric, but wonderful showman who knew that he had to differentiate his restaurant from all the rest. He knew that the best way to do that – after the assumption of great food, entertainment and service – was to turn himself into the “brand.”

My job, as a young hospitality student, was to watch him carefully and learn as much as I could. One Saturday night I showed up and Julie was trying to ‘insert’ himself into the home team’s pro hockey uniform. It was instantly obvious that Julie had never played hockey. To see a middle-aged man struggling to get into and then have to have me extricate him from the jersey, equipment, elbow pads et al, was hilarious for a young guy like me, who had been on skates and playing the game since age four. He certainly was not afraid to make a fool of himself. When I showed up that night, he had less than no idea what piece of equipment went where, and was struggling with the shin guards. He had got himself all tangled up with what he thought were hip guards, when in fact they were shoulder pads, worn over the shoulders. It was indeed the first time I had ever seen a ‘player’ wearing shoulder pads, stretched around his butt.

I helped him get ‘dressed’. Next came the taping of the hockey stick. This was genuinely hilarious, watching this fellow trying to figure out the right way to tape a hockey stick without making a mess of it and looking foolish to his customers. He had a special plan for that stick.

I taped his stick and now he was ready. He had on his uniform, equipment and helmet, borrowed from one of the local NHL players who were a frequent guest at the mansion. Now, he actually looked like a real NHL hockey player...in black and white running shoes, sans skates!

Then Julie ‘flew through’ the different alcoves and floors of the restaurant with a big ball of foodservice aluminum foil as his ‘puck’. He stick-handled in and out and between tables, took shots with the aluminum ball off the walls, cross-checked his own waiters trying to serve tables, all the while yelling cheers and the phrase made famous 'round the world, by Foster Hewitt: "he shoots.... he scores!" All this, at the top of his lungs. Then he had planned for a horn to sound loudly indicating that the ‘period of play’ in his imaginary ‘game’ was over. It was now time to go to the dressing room. In a flash, just like an on-stage magician, he quickly disappeared into thin air, hidden in his office.

My face was covered in tears. I couldn’t stop laughing! The restaurant was in an uproar. Guests were laughing so hard…one guy literally fell off his chair. The waiters were laughing, the guests were laughing, I was laughing and all the while Julie was having a ball too. Here was a restaurateur who made his work fun.

I had not met one of these types before. I really liked and respected this fellow. But I figured then, and still today, that anyone who had that much fun…and made that much money…must know something the others didn’t. And he did.

estaurant enclosed within an old 19th century Mansion in this very cosmopolitan city. It was called Julie’s Mansion and was owned and operated by a very eccentric, but wonderful showman who knew that he had to differentiate his restaurant from all the rest. He knew that the best way to do that – after the assumption of great food, entertainment and service – was to turn himself into the “brand.”

My job, as a young hospitality student, was to watch him carefully and learn as much as I could. One Saturday night I showed up and Julie was trying to ‘insert’ himself into the home team’s pro hockey uniform. It was instantly obvious that Julie had never played hockey. To see a middle-aged man struggling to get into and then have to have me extricate him from the jersey, equipment, elbow pads et al, was hilarious for a young guy like me, who had been on skates and playing the game since age four. He certainly was not afraid to make a fool of himself. When I showed up that night, he had less than no idea what piece of equipment went where, and was struggling with the shin guards. He had got himself all tangled up with what he thought were hip guards, when in fact they were shoulder pads, worn over the shoulders. It was indeed the first time I had ever seen a ‘player’ wearing shoulder pads, stretched around his butt.

I helped him get ‘dressed’. Next came the taping of the hockey stick. This was genuinely hilarious, watching this fellow trying to figure out the right way to tape a hockey stick without making a mess of it and looking foolish to his customers. He had a special plan for that stick.

I taped his stick and now he was ready. He had on his uniform, equipment and helmet, borrowed from one of the local NHL players who were a frequent guest at the mansion. Now, he actually looked like a real NHL hockey player...in black and white running shoes, sans skates!

Then Julie ‘flew through’ the different alcoves and floors of the restaurant with a big ball of foodservice aluminum foil as his ‘puck’. He stick-handled in and out and between tables, took shots with the aluminum ball off the walls, cross-checked his own waiters trying to serve tables, all the while yelling cheers and the phrase made famous 'round the world, by Foster Hewitt: "he shoots.... he scores!" All this, at the top of his lungs. Then he had planned for a horn to sound loudly indicating that the ‘period of play’ in his imaginary ‘game’ was over. It was now time to go to the dressing room. In a flash, just like an on-stage magician, he quickly disappeared into thin air, hidden in his office.

My face was covered in tears. I couldn’t stop laughing! The restaurant was in an uproar. Guests were laughing so hard…one guy literally fell off his chair. The waiters were laughing, the guests were laughing, I was laughing and all the while Julie was having a ball too. Here was a restaurateur who made his work fun.

I had not met one of these types before. I really liked and respected this fellow. But I figured then, and still today, that anyone who had that much fun…and made that much money…must know something the others didn’t. And he did

bow pads et al, was hilarious for a young guy like me, who had been on skates and playing the game since age four. He certainly was not afraid to make a fool of himself. When I showed up that night, he had less than no idea what piece of equipment went where, and was struggling with the shin guards. He had got himself all tangled up with what he thought were hip guards, when in fact they were shoulder pads, worn over the shoulders. It was indeed the first time I had ever seen a ‘player’ wearing shoulder pads, stretched around his butt.

I helped him get ‘dressed’. Next came the taping of the hockey stick. This was genuinely hilarious, watching this fellow trying to figure out the right way to tape a hockey stick without making a mess of it and looking foolish to his customers. He had a special plan for that stick.

I taped his stick and now he was ready. He had on his uniform, equipment and helmet, borrowed from one of the local NHL players who were a frequent guest at the mansion. Now, he actually looked like a real NHL hockey player...in black and white running shoes, sans skates!

Then Julie ‘flew through’ the different alcoves and floors of the restaurant with a big ball of foodservice aluminum foil as his ‘puck’. He stick-handled in and out and between tables, took shots with the aluminum ball off the walls, cross-checked his own waiters trying to serve tables, all the while yelling cheers and the phrase made famous 'round the world, by Foster Hewitt: "he shoots.... he scores!" All this, at the top of his lungs. Then he had planned for a horn to sound loudly indicating that the ‘period of play’ in his imaginary ‘game’ was over. It was now time to go to the dressing room. In a flash, just like an on-stage magician, he quickly disappeared into thin air, hidden in his office.

My face was covered in tears. I couldn’t stop laughing! The restaurant was in an uproar. Guests were laughing so hard…one guy literally fell off his chair. The waiters were laughing, the guests were laughing, I was laughing and all the while Julie was having a ball too. Here was a restaurateur who made his work fun.

I had not met one of these types before. I really liked and respected this fellow. But I figured then, and still today, that anyone who had that much fun…and made that much money…must know something the others didn’t. And he did

e had a special plan for that stick.

I taped his stick and now he was ready. He had on his uniform, equipment and helmet, borrowed from one of the local NHL players who were a frequent guest at the mansion. Now, he actually looked like a real NHL hockey player...in black and white running shoes, sans skates!

Then Julie ‘flew through’ the different alcoves and floors of the restaurant with a big ball of foodservice aluminum foil as his ‘puck’. He stick-handled in and out and between tables, took shots with the aluminum ball off the walls, cross-checked his own waiters trying to serve tables, all the while yelling cheers and the phrase made famous 'round the world, by Foster Hewitt: "he shoots.... he scores!" All this, at the top of his lungs. Then he had planned for a horn to sound loudly indicating that the ‘period of play’ in his imaginary ‘game’ was over. It was now time to go to the dressing room. In a flash, just like an on-stage magician, he quickly disappeared into thin air, hidden in his office.

My face was covered in tears. I couldn’t stop laughing! The restaurant was in an uproar. Guests were laughing so hard…one guy literally fell off his chair. The waiters were laughing, the guests were laughing, I was laughing and all the while Julie was having a ball too. Here was a restaurateur who made his work fun.

I had not met one of these types before. I really liked and respected this fellow. But I figured then, and still today, that anyone who had that much fun…and made that much money…must know something the others didn’t. And he did

to sound loudly indicating that the ‘period of play’ in his imaginary ‘game’ was over. It was now time to go to the dressing room. In a flash, just like an on-stage magician, he quickly disappeared into thin air, hidden in his office.

My face was covered in tears. I couldn’t stop laughing! The restaurant was in an uproar. Guests were laughing so hard…one guy literally fell off his chair. The waiters were laughing, the guests were laughing, I was laughing and all the while Julie was having a ball too. Here was a restaurateur who made his work fun.

I had not met one of these types before. I really liked and respected this fellow. But I figured then, and still today, that anyone who had that much fun…and made that much money…must know something the others didn’t. And he did. He became his own brand. ‘Distinctive. ‘Differentiated. ‘Therefore attractive to people who are sick of seeing the same old, same old every day. People are attracted to differences not similarities. Take a look at what you can do with yours. It’s right under your own nose.

©Copyright, Roy W. MacNaughton, 2006