Assistant Got Yelled At For Dressing Down, But She Got To Pull A Julia Roberts Move In The Beverly Wilshire Hotel
Get off the street, and stride into this fairy tale revenge.
Reddit/Unsplash
OK, if you’ve ever seen Pretty Woman, you’ve probably fantasized about having your own Julia Roberts moment.
In this story, one lucky girl actually got to have hers at the very hotel featured in the movie.
It wasn’t something she expected to happen, but it’s something she’ll never forget.
Let’s walk on by this story…
YEARS ago – like, 17? – I worked for a major but very low profile crisis PR firm.
I didn’t do any of that, I just worked IT, but it was a fascinating job to just see, even if it was filled with awful and petty people helping often even more awful and petty people or companies.
I had the job, along with day to day support, to provide on-site support to our chairwoman whenever she traveled, as she was notoriously technophobic – hated everything to do with it, and only hated it more when it went wrong.
I get technophobia but how does that apply here?
I was told this could happen, little did I know that I would end up being the only one who would end up doing it. There were more reasons, but I was just very good under pressure with her, and quickly became moreso.
So just one month into my job there, having barely had the lay of the land, I was told last possible minute that a client crisis was blowing up and I needed to go downstairs where a car was waiting for me, run home, and get a bag packed and be off to LA where she was headed for the weekend.
My team packed up her gear and overnighted it to LA while I was running for the door.
I had just enough time to ask my boss, “It’s a 6 hour flight crammed in the smallest seats in coach, and I’m a giant – can I be comfortable for this trip or do I need business clothes?”
A question for the ages. I bet this comfort now will lead to discomfort later…
He said no, and I said for clarity, I do mean jean shorts and tees, and he said that was fine. So ok, off I went.
Getting off the plane in LA for the first time in my life, there’s a man with a sign with my name on it.
I identify myself and he looks me up and down and goes, “They may not let you in dressed like that.”
I laughed, sure he was kidding.
He said “I’m serious.”
Um, what?
“Where are we going?” I asked, innocently.
“The Beverly Wilshire,” he replied.
Seeing the blank look on my face he sighs, rolls his eyes, and goes, “The hotel from Pretty Woman?”
Ooooh, I see. But surely they saw the movie, right?
My eyes popping a little let him know he’d made his point. “If Rodeo Drive was open right now I’d take you and make you buy something.”
Well, this didn’t happen, despite my boss reassuring me that I did have the company credit card, and I didn’t have to justify my expenses too hard here.
I asked if that meant I could go tomorrow and get something, and he said it’d be too late by then.
Alas, no Versace for me.
I was dropped off in the back and entered through their driveway (normal spot for one of their drivers but still!).
Walking up to the concierge desk, the woman behind the raised desk, literally looks down her nose at me and with her snootiest tone and look of annoyance goes, “Are you here for a delivery?”
Maybe they’re not movie fans? Can’t wait to hear OP’s comeback.
Dearest chat, I was not here for a delivery.
I, having recently seen Devil Wears Prada and recognizing how this game is played, pull up my haughtiest voice and coolly respond, “No. I’m here on behalf of Mrs. ***** ****** ******** as her representative this weekend.”
I kid thee not, the color left her face.
My boss had two suites, plus my own room and a room for her nannies.
Waiting for the concierge to faint and lacking that satisfaction, I continue, “Have her things arrived yet? Are her rooms ready for me to set up?”
OP is moving in for the kill.
She stammered and clearly searched her broken mind for that information.
“Well???” I said with the same look of annoyance.
“I’m so sorry, we had another guest stay an extra night, we won’t be able to get you in until tomorrow.”
This would ordinarily be fine. She’s the help, I’m the help, neither of us are special or irreplaceable.
If she’d just treated me with a bit of dignity I’d be so patient and kind, but now I had to both fix this in case my boss arrived early (a common occurrence), and I had to teach the concierge not to judge based on appearance.
But will she have mercy?
And maybe have a little more respect for others.
“That simply won’t do,” I snap.
I almost laughed at the absurdity of how I sounded, but she didn’t pick up on that.
“What will you be doing to make this right?”
Nope.
She, still rattled but recovering, meekly offered a few options.
I told her what needed to happen, having genuinely no idea if my fixes were right for my boss, but it was far too late to call the office to find out if her assistants could provide me cues.
I only knew the few things I’d been told.
We ended up getting things sorted so I could go straight to work in the morning the moment the other guest walked out, who fortunately left early while my boss arrived late.
Good timing. Where does Richard Gere come in?
With the most dismissiveness I could muster I pulled out $20 of petty cash and tossed it across the desk, then slid over one of their notepads and pens, tapping it authoritatively and saying, “Your name and cell phone. I need to be certain I can reach someone ANY TIME day or night to get her whatever she requires.”
She obliged.
Sadly I didn’t get the opportunity to ruin her weekend, since I think she was off, though I did call her once to get some information about a previous day’s newspaper and where I could get a copy.
She was much more polite and helpful this time around.
The staff was much nicer to me after this, too. They didn’t attempt to enforce dress code on me at the hotel restaurant.
Looks like snooty employee has changed her tune. Does that mean OP is gonna forgive and forget?
Oh, and for the record, the Beverly Wilshire sucks.
The rooms are dated and small, even the suite was wholly unimpressive, their toiletries and sundries are the most run of the mill hotel brands, nothing about it beyond the lobby was anything to suggest this place was special in any way.
I had a vastly better experience at the Four Seasons in Grand Cayman Island, but that’s a story for another time.
No way. Take that Beverly Wilshire.
Let’s see what the comments on Reddit say.
One person says, fancy hotels can be just smoke and mirrors.
Another person asks if maybe swanky is code for old?
Another poster is like, hold on, was this concierge really so bad?
Another person votes for more modest accommodations.
This poster is like, shoulda got some free clothes like Julia Roberts too!
Get off the street, and stride into this fairy tale revenge.
If you liked that story, check out this post about an oblivious CEO who tells a web developer to “act his wage”… and it results in 30% of the workforce being laid off.
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