Now, with BPG I get to think about tenant satisfaction
and retention while watching the bottom line.
What a novel concept! GET ME THE BEST TABLE - OR ELSE
I have been blessed with seventeen years in this profession.
Almost two decades filled with interest- ing stories, thrilling requests, cool coworkers and best of all, thousands of wonderful tenants. Throughout, most of them had been very nice to me. Several positively affected me, and some even went on to become valued and trusted friends.
Then there was Mr. Ionelli*. Mr. Ionelli was the president of a fairly impressive financial services company. A large man who was always impeccably tailored, his thick black hair had every follicle in place.
He had a very commanding presence and with his wide jowls and bulldog’s countenance, he looked like he could easily chew on chain links.
Mr. Ionelli was not hated by his staff, how- ever, I could tell that his employees had a subservient nature whenever they were in his presence, as if his soft-spoken exte- rior was the coiffed and manicured ves- sel that held something more complex, if not nefarious within.
A very Machiavellian individual. The man utilized my services often.
“Ken, get me two of the best seats to...”
“Ken, I need reservations tonight, 7pm at Le Bec-Fin and a town car to get me there.”
“Ken, my daughter’s birthday is this week- end. She really likes that that new boy band. Get me some autograph photos.”
Yes, Mr. Ionelli was a discerning man, a person who knew what he wanted, had the financial wherewithal to have it
82 July August 2011
obtained, and, it seemed, he wouldn’t take “no” for an answer. Often, he liked to remind me about his “Sicilian friends.” “They help me get my way when I don’t get my way.” - stated to me with a dry, mirthless laugh. I wasn’t sure if this was a piece of fact I should know, a veiled threat, or both.
“Ken, I’ll be in Vegas next week. I’m tak- ing my wife to Picasso restaurant. Get me the best table there, you know, the exclusive one by the fireplace.” He gave me an odd wink. “And I won’t take no for an answer.”
When I placed a call to a Bellagio con- tact, I was able to secure the reservation, but not the exact seating arrangements. “The restaurant cannot accommodate your request, sir. Unfortunately, Al Pacino has had that exact table booked for almost two months and...”
Suddenly, I felt myself shrinking in size as the 6’1” man in front of me seemed to grow to bear-like dimensions - a very angry bear.
“Now you listen to me you ___. I’ve told you before, I won’t take no for an answer. Make it happen.”
“But...”
He literally growled at me. “Have I told you about my friends from Sicily? Would you like to meet them?”
Okay, THAT was a threat. Needless to say, I wasn’t able to maneuver the seating arrangements.
Mr. & Mrs. I. had their meal at Picasso at the second best table in the joint, right next to Don Michael Corleone himself, who enjoyed his dinner in front of fire- place.
The man didn’t talk to me for a month. When he passed me in the lobby, his eyes glowed like fiery onyx. One day my desk phone rang.
“Alan, get up here now.” Gulp. Once again he leaned across his big
Sure, there will be excitement-creating individuals, and maybe a few challenging ones, too. They are all just actors in scenes on my life’s stage.
Meanwhile, it’s time to get back to work. A client wants two tickets
to the new Tony award-winning “Best Musical” on Broadway, and he said he won’t take no for an answer.
As if I haven’t heard that one before.
Ken Alan is the Vice President of Concierge Services for BPG Properties, Ltd. He is the At Large Chapter president of the National Concierge Association, the founder of the Philadelphia Concierge Association, and a contributor for several regional publications.
kalan@bpgltd.com
desk, his hot breath hitting me square in the face. He spoke in a patronizing cadence. “Okay, let’s try this again. I am going to Charlie Palmer’s in Vegas and you are going to get me the A-table.” “Yes, Mr. Io-”
“I wasn’t finished. You are also going to have Charlie come out to the table to say hello to my wife. Do I make myself clear?” “Crystal” would have been too dull a word for it.
As time went on, the company he fronted went under and as fast as the moving company got his stuff out of his office, Mr. Ionelli was no longer a tenant. Eventually, he moved to another state and, hopefully, out of my life for good.
With a client like that, who needed ene- mies?
Whether it was M. Night, Mr. I. or that time I sparred with colleagues, I always felt as if they all came into my life for a reason.
ACT II CONTINUES
I have lots of years before that Third Act, God-willing. When it finally arrives, I look to go into it gracefully, and with confi- dence.
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