Concierge Confidential by Michael Fazio, Michael Malice
By Michael Fazio, Michael Malice
Long island City’s best concierge offers up a keyhole view into the luxe inn rooms, inner most eating and dressing rooms of the ridiculous, wealthy and significant Michael Fazio is the final word behind-the-scenes help guy. wish orchestra tickets to the Broadway musical that simply received the Tony? name Fazio. How approximately an improve to firstclass on an overbooked in a single day flight to Tokyo? name Fazio. Or a roomful of unpolluted hydrangeas—in wintry weather? That’s correct. name Fazio. From his early begin because the harried and ignored own assistant to a customary L.A. casting agent, Fazio took what he realized there and moved into concierge paintings at long island City’s Intercontinental resort, the place he used to be ultimately capable of parlay his providers right into a huge and profitable enterprise of his personal. In Concierge exclusive, Fazio finds the behind-thescenes insanity that is going into getting the wealthy and well-known what they need, and stocks a few nice insider wisdom on find out how to get entry to the unimaginable with no making the concierge, waiters and different provider humans loopy. some of Fazio’s advice contain: • while and what sort of to palm in assistance • tips on how to get a seat or price tag to the most well liked factor on the town • find out how to steer clear of being classified a rube the minute you stroll during the door • how one can turn into your favourite shop or restaurant’s so much cherished purchaser • and masses extra
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Extra resources for Concierge Confidential
How are they identified? Who lives in the building, and who has any kind of request happening between now and when we start on Friday? What are residents told as far as our hours and our obligations? “I’ll email you all these things,” he assured me. ” I asked. “I’ll find out! ” He doesn’t even know the number? I thought. Oh, this is bad. I waited and waited—no response. I had meetings. My day continued—and I was starting to flip out. I wrote an email to the owner, asking him the same very basic questions that I had asked Toma Vaca.
The room itself, like most back-of-the-house office spaces, was pretty industrial and not at all elegant. I slowly looked around at the mess that was everywhere. Peeking out from under her desk was a pair of really expensive shoes. The combination of those two things should have warned me about what was coming, but I wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt. Fifteen minutes later, Crystal arrived in a complete flurry. She had on a short little jacket, a pair of really slim pencil pants, and some cute ballet flats—and everything was clearly designer.
Martin Sheen was staying at the Mayflower Hotel in New York. Every day we were getting script pages in the office, fifteen sheets on that horrible thermal paper. Every day I had to call his hotel and do the whole song and dance to fax those pages over. Maybe they got sick of doing it for me. One day I couldn’t get a hold of anyone over there. I had always told Glennis when the fax had gone through; when I didn’t tell her anything she knew something was up. “It’s impossible,” I told her. ” I didn’t even know that word.