I am the restaurant concept of Fedor Sokirianskii

The "I Am the Restaurant" Concept: When Business Becomes a Personal Story

The team unanimously votes to introduce a new dish to the menu. The waiter, greeting a guest, feels not like a hired worker at a table, but like a host welcoming friends into his own home. The chef, ordering basil for a sauce, experiences not a routine duty, but a personal necessity—because otherwise, his idea, his creation, will not come to fruition. The manager and the maître d'hôtel converse not as representatives of warring departments, but as partners in a common cause, the success of which they genuinely care about.

This is not a utopia. This is a working management model that turns traditional hierarchy on its head. Its essence is not in schemes and KPIs, but in psychology. The "I Am the Restaurant" concept is a systematic approach that transforms a hospitality enterprise from a set of business processes into a living organism where every employee is its conscious, interested cell.

What is it in practice? It is the process of deep psychological "appropriation."

An employee ceases to be a functional unit ("waiter," "cook," "manager") and begins to identify, firstly, with the place where they work, and secondly—which is critically important—with their profession. A system of common values emerges, built not on fear of a fine, but on a philosophy of success, professional pride, and a sense of meaning in what one does every day. The restaurant becomes not just a job, but a part of personal identity.

The philosophical foundation of this concept lies in the realm of informal education. Its key postulate is personal interest as the main and only driver of conscious learning and development. You can force a person to learn safety techniques. But you cannot force them to love hospitality, to grasp the importance of the perfect wine temperature, or to feel the excitement of a perfectly cooked steak. This only happens when knowledge ceases to be an external requirement and becomes an internal need.

Hence the practical tool: training and developing the team through collaborative creativity. This is not about team-building with a colleague falling into your arms. It is about working groups of 5-10 people, where, under the guidance of a moderator (trainer, mentor, the chef themselves), people do not receive instructions but together seek answers to fundamental questions:

• "Why am I exactly here? Not just 'working as a cook,' but working as a cook in this particular restaurant?"

• "What does my restaurant mean to me? What would I feel if it closed tomorrow?"

• "What is the value of my personal contribution to the common cause?"

This process is a dialogue with others and simultaneously deep reflection. It removes the main contradiction of the industry.

But what about discipline? Aren't creativity and discipline antonyms?

Here is the classic dead end of managerial thinking: on the one hand—the iron logic of a restaurant kitchen, where a 30-minute delay for a banquet equals failure, and an untimely preparation ruins the entire service. On the other—the romantic image of a creative chef-artist, floating in the clouds of inspiration.

The "I Am the Restaurant" concept explodes this dichotomy. It suggests looking at the situation differently. Let's take two chefs. The first is a brilliant technician. He knows recipes impeccably, masters equipment virtuosically, his dishes are consistently good. The second can also do all that. But for him, cooking is not the execution of a technology, but an act of creation. Each dish is his personal statement, a small work of art.

The key question: why will this "creative" chef, this "maestro," never forget to order that particular special basil or not skimp on the oil to save on cost? Because for him, violating the recipe or using a low-quality product is not a mistake in a report, but a personal defeat, a creative fiasco, a blow to his value system. His discipline stems not from fear of a manager's reprimand, but from an internal, personal interest in an impeccable result. His talent and responsibility are not enemies, but allies.

This is where the magic lies. Discipline imposed from the outside is a constant struggle and control. Discipline growing from internal involvement is the natural state of a professional who does not know how and does not want to work poorly.

Thus, the path of "I Am the Restaurant" is the path from external stimuli to internal motivation. The task of the owner or the management team is not to write another set of rules, but to create an environment and conditions in which this personal interest awakens in an employee. An environment where the profession of a cook or waiter ceases to be a "temporary income" and becomes a cause worthy of respect and pride.

And here the main metamorphosis occurs. When the last employee in the kitchen and in the hall, from the dishwasher to the manager, internally accepts the "I Am the Restaurant" principle, the concept makes a logical, almost magical flip. It ceases to be the internal philosophy of the staff and transforms into what the guest feels. It becomes "The Restaurant for the Guest."

Because it is impossible to pretend to be hospitable. You cannot feign sincere care and personal interest in ensuring the guest gets exactly the wine that will reveal their steak. It is either in the team's blood, or it is not. And when it is, the guest does not just come to eat. He comes to a place where he is expected. To a place where he has already been taken care of. He comes to a restaurant that exists for him. And that is the only truly non-copyable competitive strategy.