Peter Bishoff, 47, married, father of two, and co-founder of 3B Hotels, is not an entrepreneur who exaggerates his story. He speaks soberly about happiness, about mistakes, about risks, and about hard work. But beneath that sobriety lies a clear common thread: Bishoff does what is necessary. Not because it's easy, not because it happens automatically, but because he has a clear goal in mind.
He now lives in Ireland with his family, runs his Magnolia, Andante and Mu hotels remotely, and has a different perspective on entrepreneurship than in the years when he was literally present in his first hotel 24 hours a day. He also calls work a hobby, although he immediately qualifies that. Every job has its pros and cons, Bishoff responds, and it's precisely the part that feels like a hobby that makes the less pleasant aspects bearable.


His story doesn't begin in a family of entrepreneurs. Bishoff grew up with a father, mother, and two sisters. A warm family, he says, and still complete. His mother worked for the government, his father on a project basis. So, entrepreneurship wasn't in his DNA. He attributes it eventually coming his way partly to his sporting background. As a young boy, Bishoff wanted to become a cyclist. He attempted to become very good in Spain, but that attempt ultimately failed. When asked why not, Bishoff responds clearly: “simply not good enough. But it was precisely through hard work that I progressed further than I might have been expected to based on talent.” He doesn't call it a shattered boyish dream. At a certain point, you make a rational choice and apply the same effort in another area. Those sporting years did shape him. Discipline, making sacrifices, missing parties, carrying on when others stopped: it was all part of it. He admits he made up for those parties later, but the mentality remained. Bishoff didn't get a hotel handed to him, after all. He ended up where he is now through detours, failures, coincidences, and hard choices.
After cycling, Bishoff ended up in the hospitality industry. Travelling with the sport meant he spoke several languages, which made him a sought-after employee in a tourist area. He started as a tout on the promenade. He himself preferred to use the Spanish word "publicidad" (publicity), which sounded less crude and better suited how he approached the work. He wasn't the type to push people inside, but rather someone who genuinely wanted to connect. If someone didn't fancy steak, he'd just as easily refer them to the best Chinese restaurant in El Arenal. This might seem strange for someone working at a steakhouse, but according to Bishoff, it actually worked. People who received good service would return later. In this way, he wasn't an intrusive salesperson with flyers, but more of a local guide. Where can you eat? Where can you cycle? Which boat trip is good? Bishoff knew the area and used this knowledge in his work on the promenade.
On the boulevard, he developed further; assessing, listening and having conversations came easily to him. Later, he went to work behind the bar, first in Mallorca and then in Crete. When the financial crisis came, he returned to the Netherlands. He needed work again and fell into the hotel industry.
In the Netherlands, Bishoff started out at a small hotel chain. He began at the very bottom as a barman; he held several roles within the hotel. Gradually, he was given more responsibility. Yet at a certain point, he realised that with his HAVO qualification and, as he puts it himself, “a big mouth”, he had ultimately hit a glass ceiling.
At the age of 32, he therefore decided to go to university after all. He pursued a higher professional education (HBO) course in Leeuwarden, alongside two jobs. He was able to do this with the support of his wife. This education brought him knowledge primarily about the human side of management. He needed that, he says. Professional sports, celebrity, and nightlife are tough worlds. You learn to act and persevere in them, but not automatically how to lead people well. At the end of that course, he was able to buy his first hotel.

The first hotel didn't come about because there was a large sum of personal capital readily available somewhere. Bishoff literally went around with a hat. Family, friends, and people who not only financed but also became participants, invested. That's why he doesn't own one hundred percent of the shares. It all started with a comment during his grandmother's birthday. Bishoff said there that he thought others weren't doing a good job. If he got the chance, he thought, he could do better. His uncle was spurred on by that cheeky remark and said, then we'll try it together. That's how the ball started rolling.
The first hotel was Hotel Atlas in Amsterdam. Bishoff was proud of the business plan, but it soon became apparent that the figures turned out differently than expected. A week after the takeover, the market went up. He unhesitatingly calls that luck. Exactly the bit of luck you need when you jump into something headfirst. The beginning was not romantic. The hotel had no staff, no systems, and essentially one employee who was taken over. All other services were for Bishoff. He worked night shifts, slept above reception, and was literally busy 24 hours a day building the hotel.
There was little point in being afraid. There was no time for that. Besides, the fact that the takeover had gone ahead was, above all, a relief. So much time had already been invested that seeing it fall through at the last minute felt worse than taking the plunge itself. On the very same day that he heard the financing had been secured, he also learnt he was going to be a father. Bishoff calls it a special day. A point of no return, both professionally and personally.

Bishoff still works with his uncle. According to him, this is both a strength and a weakness. They are quite different. Precisely because of this, they can handle different aspects of a project well. Bishoff is strong in operations, HR, marketing, sales, and pricing. His uncle has his background in accountancy and law.
The division makes the collaboration workable. Everyone has their own area. Within that area lies the final decision. His uncle can have an opinion on the operation, but Bishoff ultimately decides on that. The reverse applies similarly to fiscal and legal matters. Without that division, you get a stalemate everywhere.
When asked if discussing things with family is more difficult, Bishoff replies that you have fewer inhibitions, but also more opportunities to fix things. There are rules of engagement, although they are sometimes thrown overboard at moments when things get tense. This apparently comes with the collaboration between two Amsterdam characters who wear their hearts on their sleeves.
Hotel Atlas was located near Vondelpark, within walking distance of Museumplein and Leidseplein. Bishoff knew exactly which guests he wanted to attract: dual-income couples, whose children had left home, with money to spend and looking for authenticity in Amsterdam. By authenticity, he didn't mean a marketing term. He meant a real Amsterdammer behind the reception desk. Someone who could tell guests where to go, who had time for personal attention, and who fitted in with a small hotel in an authentic Amsterdam building. It wouldn't work for a large hotel where you check in and immediately walk on. In that location, with that building and that pricing, that wouldn't work.

When the first hotel was doing well, the second one came along almost by chance. An estate agent called: the hotel on the corner was for sale. If Bishoff and his uncle could move quickly, they could make a deal. They had already put out their feelers, but timing is timing. Bishoff discussed this step with his wife too. She stood behind his business choices. That was important, especially in the early stages. Bishoff had no income himself. Her income and support made it easier to take risks. She herself comes from a family of entrepreneurs, which meant that, according to Bishoff, she understood well what is needed to build something.
After two hotels in Amsterdam, the question arose as to whether a third hotel should again be located in the same market. Bishoff and his uncle carried out a risk analysis. At that time, terrorist attacks in European cities were a hot topic. If anything were to happen in Amsterdam, they would have all their assets concentrated in a single market. That is why they looked beyond Amsterdam. That is how they ended up in Scheveningen. Later, they sold Atlas. That, too, was a deliberate choice, partly due to their experience during the coronavirus pandemic. Amsterdam was hit hard. Scheveningen fared relatively well. Diversification became important once again. Then Andorra came into the picture. According to Bishoff, anyone who owns hotels in the Netherlands makes most of their money in the summer. Anyone who also wants to generate revenue in the winter ends up in winter sports. He did look at Austria and Switzerland, but found the property there too expensive. He remarks dryly that he’d have to live to be 130 to ever recoup the investment. Andorra offered a different opportunity. The official language is Catalan, which Bishoff does not speak. But you can get a long way with Spanish. Spanish is widely accepted on the streets. Culturally, Andorra reminds him of Mallorca: many nationalities, many languages, many backgrounds. A sort of island, he says, but in the mountains.
So Bishoff now lives in Ireland. His wife is Irish and had been living in the Netherlands for sixteen years before he joined her. Now the roles have been reversed. He says he fits in well with island culture. Not better than the Netherlands, but different. And that difference suits him. The fact that he lives some distance from his hotels doesn’t mean he’s never there. He flies a lot – 40 to 50 times a year, by his own account. But his role has changed. Whereas he used to spot for himself that ten packets of sugar had been ordered incorrectly, he now focuses on output. Letting go of that took some getting used to. Thanks to his sporting background, Bishoff naturally pays attention to detail. But with multiple hotels, that no longer works. You need managers who deliver results and take care of the details themselves. He’s made mistakes in that regard too. In the early stages of running a multi-unit business, he recruited people who weren’t suited to that style of management. He now has a better idea of what he needs. Not someone who’s like him, he says, because he’s already here. Instead, he’s looking for people who can handle the details effectively. His own focus now lies more on broader business strategies: benchmarking, best practices, long-term objectives and efficiency. Take energy consumption, for example. Heating, lighting, sensors in bathrooms, weather-dependent thermostats. According to Bishoff, in hotels, guests leave the heating on and the bathroom lights on en masse. As if it costs nothing. It costs the guest nothing, but it does cost the hotel.
When the conversation turns to current concerns, Bishoff describes the government as a headache. In his view, the VAT increase is no cause for celebration. Hotels cannot simply absorb this without adapting their working methods. They need to work more efficiently and cut costs. He is also critical of Amsterdam. He understands that the city is busy and that tourism needs to be managed. But he believes that a high tourist tax drives tourists to places like Zaandam, after which they still end up taking the train to Amsterdam. For the guest, expectations remain the same. They see a room rate on a booking site and expect quality. The fact that a substantial portion of that price goes to the government is not the guest’s problem. Bishoff himself is not actively involved in discussions with the local council. From previous experience, he has come to feel that whilst they do listen, the authorities ultimately do as they please anyway. He prefers to channel that energy into matters he can influence himself. “You don’t go and fight Mike Tyson either,” he says. You sign petitions, support trade organisations that are pushing back, and in the meantime prepare for what’s likely to come.
Not everything in the hotel industry is about strategy, growth and figures. Bishoff also experienced the harsh reality of the business. At one of his hotels, someone attempted suicide. He was there in person and was able to support his colleagues. The person survived the attempt and, as far as he knows, is still alive. But there was a lot of blood and it was a harrowing situation. His experience in the nightlife scene helped him. There, you come across strange people and strange situations. You learn to act first and only then to be shocked. The incident hasn’t made him afraid to enter hotel rooms. He wouldn’t want to go through it again, but it doesn’t weigh on him day in, day out. That level-headedness is typical of him. Not because it doesn’t affect him, but because he draws a distinction between what gets close to him and what he needs to be able to handle professionally.
At the end of his story, Bishoff returns to three lessons. The first is perseverance: doing what is necessary to achieve what you want to achieve. The second is continuous improvement. Of yourself, of systems, of the company. Especially at a time when AI systems can answer the phone, for example, you as an entrepreneur must keep looking at what can be done better. He perhaps finds the third lesson the most important: being thrifty. “You can drive around in a €350,000 Lamborghini, but with that money you can also make your company more future-proof for the next ten years.” He himself still drives the same car as when he bought Atlas. That perhaps best represents Bishoff. He is not a hotelier who flaunts his success. He is a hotelier who prefers to build rather than show off. He didn't manage to become a professional cyclist, but as an entrepreneur, he is engaged in a significant mountain stage: not always straight uphill, sometimes via detours and deep valleys, but always with the same rhythm in his legs. Keep building, keep improving, and prove that it can be done.
Listen to the podcast episode with Peter Bishoff via Hotelvak, the podcast.