“ Mr. Big Shot…who do you think you are….”

Secret Hertelier is baaaack....! This time with a tale about a Hollywood heavyweight.



In 2006 another one of his movies was released and he had by then moved from a novelty to notoriety. An impressive number of fans teetered on the curb as his pimped-up black SUV stopped in front of the hotel.


Welcoming him, traveling alone, into the lobby and escorting him up to his suite, he reveled in the attention but feigned otherwise. I was to know that he would be joined by his girlfriend in two days but that her accommodations should not be on the same floor as his. She too had gained a place in Hollywood circles with her flaming long hair and much-photographed stunning body.


Early the next morning our Room Service Manager of 27 years called in exasperation, “our VIP guest wants his eggs poached for 2 1/2 minutes and I have tried three times to make them perfect but he refuses them and calls me names,” he explained with a bit of fear in his voice.


My second line lit up, the one I give to all our VIPs and I grabbed it quickly. “ YOU will personally go cook my eggs and bring them to me NOW,” he yelled into the phone, then banged the receiver down. Okay. Taking the back hallway into the crowded room service prep area, weaving through room service tables in their various stages of being set, I used my watch to boil his eggs, just under 2 1/2 minutes to account for the trip up to his suite while the eggs would still be lightly cooking. I stood at attention as he cracked the first egg open and then ducked as he threw the second one.


I won’t lie. Now, I too was pretty worked up. The balance between wanting to serve and wanting to swear was tipping. I felt like I wanted to put MY boxing gloves on.


Mustering up all my grace, “I can see we cannot live up to your expectations, I will make arrangements at another hotel which I know you have frequented in other cities. A car will be waiting for you when you are ready to leave,” I said as I backed out of his space. Between the abusive language and his demeanor, clearly, he was not a good fit for our hotel.


My competition was happy to receive this famous actor as they enjoyed the press and accommodated many celebrities. As he was whisked away I attempted to inquire about his girlfriend, due to arrive shortly but was just flipped off.


Again, the following day my second line was ringing and he demanded to know where she was…. "get your ass up to her suite and tell her I’m waiting…she doesn’t answer her phone.”


Security came with me as I learned from the housekeeper that her deadbolt was on and the DND sign was hanging on the doorknob. After several attempts to get a response, we used force to break thru the deadbolt and rushed in, now very concerned.


Through the living room and into the master bedroom, there she lay. Very alive, beautifully draped naked across the linens one leg over an equally gorgeous woman…bottles of vodka, and pills decorating their surroundings.


Arranging a sheet over them, checking again for pulses and breathing, we were able to wake them. “He is waiting for you at the other hotel, he is VERY concerned” I whispered. “So let him wait” she cooed and turned to cuddle up to the other woman.