When legendary London restaurateur Jeremy King gathered his staff, he opened with a stark declaration: “I could replace you all with robots,” he said. He followed with a litany of robotic virtues – never late, never glued to a phone, never forgetful, never hungover. Yet he added, “But I’m not going to,” because he believed machines lack the very qualities that define hospitality: empathy, instinct, intuition, and love.
This moment captures a broader debate that has been gaining momentum in the world of luxury hospitality. While Silicon Valley champions friction-free experiences – tap, swipe, check-in, QR-order – a growing cadre of thinkers argues that the premium truly lies in the deliberate, sometimes inconvenient, human interactions that wealth can afford.
Friction-maxxing: a deliberate return to the analog
Kathryn Jezer-Morton of The Cut coined the phrase friction-maxxing to describe the conscious choice to preserve old-school gestures in an age of seamless apps. The concept is simple: make service slower, more personal, and therefore more valuable. A maître d’ who remembers your favorite table, a tailor who insists on three fittings, or a hotel manager who knows your mother’s name are not inefficiencies; they are luxury signals.
In practice, friction-maxxing means rejecting the impulse to automate every touchpoint. It is a cultural shift that treats the “annoyance” of waiting for a handwritten note or a face-to-face recommendation as an asset, not a flaw.
Academic insight: scarcity, wealth and the longing for humanity
MIT professor Sherry Turkle, author of Artificial Intimacy: Who We Become When We Talk to Machines, observes that “Wealth searches out scarcity,” she says. She continues, “When wealth associated hi tech with a new form of attention, they dreamed of robots that would answer their every whim and take them out of the world of needing a lower class of caregivers. It was friction-free, you wouldn’t have to rub up against strangers. Now, as nearly everyone has a 24-hour helper on their phone, a chatbot who will pretend to care, we dream of the truly scarce: human beings who really care.”
Turkle’s analysis frames the current trend as a reaction to the ubiquity of digital assistants. When every function can be delegated to an algorithm, the handful of interactions that remain undeniably human become the most coveted commodity.
Industry voices: doormen, digital tools and the irreplaceable human element
Rory Sutherland, author and president emeritus of Ogilvy Consulting, illustrates the point with what he calls “the doorman fallacy.” He explains that a consultant who views the doorman solely as a door-opener would replace the role with an automatic system, only to overlook the extensive value the person adds. As he puts it, “The only problem with this is that doormen, in reality, create value in all manner of different ways. They hail taxis, they recognize frequent guests, they perform a measure of security, and they exchange important information with other doormen on potentially criminal guests.” The hidden costs of removing such staff often surface only after the automation is in place.
Meanwhile, Marie-Louise Sciò, creative director and CEO of Pellicano Hotels, acknowledges that digital tools have revolutionised booking, communication and back-of-house operations. She says, “Digital tools have transformed the way we book, communicate, and manage hotels, and they continue to be incredibly valuable—especially behind the scenes,” but she adds, “however, as technology has become more present, it has also reminded us of the importance of preserving the human side of hospitality…. [It] can support us, but it cannot replace intuition, empathy, or the feeling of being genuinely looked after by another person.”
Conclusion: the paradox of progress in elite service
For the ultra-wealthy, the ultimate convenience is no longer speed but the guarantee of being seen and understood by another person. The very devices that promised to eliminate friction have, paradoxically, highlighted the scarcity of genuine human care. As the market recalibrates, the most valuable “feature” of a five-star experience may be the simple fact that a human is there, listening, remembering, and caring.
In a world that constantly pushes for faster, cleaner, more automated interactions, the resurgence of human touch proves that true luxury is not just about what you have, but about who remembers you.
