Quietly Brilliant

On 3 December, the Observer ran an article titled “Meet the 21st Century Butlers Training for a Life in Service.” What struck me was not what was being taught, but a single insight at the end of the piece.

The author, reflecting on her past work as a waitress, wrote that to be a good waitress her personality should be invisible — replaced by “someone sunny and bland.” But after attending a butler training school, she realised she was wrong. The head of the school, Mr Deijkers, corrected her assumption:

“You should seek to find an employer who aligns with your values, the way you see the world, who wants to accept service in the way you want to give it.”

That sentence stayed with me because it captures something I’ve observed repeatedly — not just in the service roles like butlers or chauffeurs, but among the most successful professionals I’ve ever worked with.

The Best Service Is Never Obsequious

I’ve met many people in service: butlers, chauffeurs, personal assistants. The outstanding ones share a common trait — attentiveness without self-erasure.

Bruce, the butler at Simmons & Simmons, embodied this perfectly. Every Christmas, the partners held a formal lunch. Each year Bruce decorated the table around a theme. One year it was covered in children’s toys — teddy bears, miniature clowns, baubles. It was joyful, slightly irreverent, and entirely memorable.

After lunch, Bruce handed me armfuls of toys to take home for my young children.

On another occasion, he flattened himself on the floor in mock worship as I stepped out of the lift near the partners’ dining room. I laughed and told him to get up — thankfully, no clients were present.

Bruce wasn’t invisible. He was present, human, attentive, and entirely himself.

That, I think, is the art of great service.

Anticipation Without Performance

A classic example often used in butler training is this: a master says to his dog, “We’ll have a good day today, Chester.” The butler hears this and quietly prepares the gun and boots. No questions. No announcements. Just anticipation.

But crucially, as Mr Deijkers points out, this attentiveness is grounded in honesty and transparency — not public performance.

I saw the same quality in Eduardo, who runs the clothing outlet at Lady Bamford’s club in Daylesford. Immaculately dressed, attentive, sincere — and never salesy.

Eduardo doesn’t push stock. He talks to people. He’s interested in you, not the sale. Ironically, most people who engage with him leave having bought far more than they intended. His success comes from sincerity, not persuasion.

The Quiet Power of Discretion

Chauffeurs deserve a mention here too. A successful friend of mine once declined the offer of a chauffeur rather than public transport or taxis, saying, “They know too much about you.” He was right.

Vincent, our chauffeur at Simmons & Simmons, occasionally drove me to and from meetings. I was always careful never to discuss anything confidential in the car with clients. People assume privacy in chauffeured cars — they shouldn’t. Chauffeurs often know more than anyone else. I’ve learned more about clients from their chauffeurs than from any client meeting.

Chauffers are not always seen but never heard!

The Best Professionals

The two most successful lawyers I’ve known are Adam Signy and Iain Cullen — both reputed to be the highest paid lawyers at Clifford Chance and Simmons & Simmons respectively.

Neither talks much.

I knew Adam from law school. He was quietly brilliant — never flustered, never showy. He didn’t appear to work obsessively hard, yet invariably outperformed everyone else. Adam was my bench mark. Typically he was made a partner before me and earned more than I did.

What’s striking is that neither Adam nor Iain ever tried to prove they were the best. They just were. They didn’t bamboozle clients with expertise or perform exhaustion. They didn’t talk about all-nighters or missed birthdays. They understood what the client wanted and did it without any drama and the client returned with repeat business

They managed expectations calmly, delivered without fuss, and then — after the work was done — kept relationships alive by inviting clients into the parts of life they genuinely enjoyed. Racing and rugby for Adam. Cigars, food, and good wine for Iain.

Instead of talking both Iain and Adam chuckle. I came to recognise the chuckle as meaning: I’m listening. I’m amused. Tell me more.

The Real Lesson

Like the best butlers, the best professionals I know are client-focused, attentive, and authentic. They listen more than they speak. They anticipate needs without a performance. They deliver quietly and consistently.

Clients feel understood. They enjoy the way the work is done. They pay on time. And they come back.

Success, it turns out, is not about broadcasting expertise — it’s about serving well, in your own way, for the right people.