Saturday and Sunday night, my friends and I set up shop at the SLS hotel while everyone was in town to visit. We were particularly excited because it’s the hotel that Lamar and Khlor stayed in before buying their house and we knew that the owner also owned all of the SBE clubs in Los Angeles — meaning we’d get priority at certain SBE clubs.
However, we were deeply disappointed upon arrival. We are a nice group of southern women, who treat everyone with respect and expect the same in return. After our bags were removed from my car and about to be shuffled into the elevator, I had a rather interesting conversation (if you want to call it that) with the bellhop.
“So, you guys visiting?”
“Oh, no, I live here now… they all flew in to see me.”
“I see. So that was your car, huh?”
I felt like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman. While I may have, or in this case, my car may have looked out of place, I was a paying customer. I paid with the same kind of money the othere guests paid with to stay there. I was about to tell him where to shove it, except I have a thing I like to call SDM: shut down mode. If you are rude, if you are arrogant, or if you manage to piss me off in ways that can be described, I go into SDM. Many of those closest to me know this mode. I don’t do it to let the other person know I’m upset, I do it because I don’t find the other person worth my energy to rebuttle, talk to, etc. Mister Bellhop had pressed my SDM button.
I hate to say this, but 1.) Mister Bellhop, I doubt you drive a luxury vehicle. However, if I’m trying to make my point, I can’t say that. I don’t know what type of vehicle you drive. I don’t know you at all. I don’t know why you’re working at the SLS. Perhaps your dad owns the thing and you want to make some chump change. Maybe you’re putting yourself through school. Or you’re making ends meat to pay rent. The point is that I don’t know you or what type of car you drive, and the car you drive is not symbolic of what type of person you are. Yet your comment about my vehicle certainly reveals a lot about you.
2.) I know this is Los Angeles, but don’t judge me on my car. Just because I wasn’t driving around Daddy’s Bentley or running around like the other $28,000 “millionaires” in this town with a car payment that costs more than my rent doesn’t mean that I deserve to be looked down upon. I received that car as a gift, have no payments to make, and am trying my best as a 23-year-old in this town to live by my own means and make my way up without the help of anyone but myself.
Unfortunately, that comment erked everyone in our party, so when said belltop tried to explain all of the glorious ammenities of the hotel, we did all but tell him to take a flying leap.
After he left, I was relaxing on the bed when I noticed not only trash under and around the bed, but also a pack of cigarettes. As a place that prides itself on being a luxury hotel, serving high-end clients and providing impeccable service, I found it perplexing that housekeeping didn’t bother to look behind or around the bed. Had they even vaccuumed? What else was overlooked?
We called the front desk and they sent up the Housekeeping Manager, whom left and sent up a tray of chocolate-filled strawberries as an apology. While it was a nice gesture, I can’t help but to think that if I had been driving a Mercedes or had been named, say, Kirbie Weinstein, Kirbie Hilton or Kirbie Seacrest, that not only would we have moved rooms immediately, but we more than likely would have received an upgrade or comp of some kind.
Regardless, the hotel was in a great location and the car service was spectacular. Frank helped get me and the girls to the salon for our blowouts just in time, and when we needed a ride back he sent another driver to get us — he even checked in to make sure we were safe. The hotel offers a pressing service, which was great since most of our attire had been packed tightly in our suitcases. And the security is five-star, making sure all residents at the hotel are protected. The lighting could be better (especially in the bathroom) and it could use more outlets (we could only find two in the whole place!), but the room was a nice getaway.
What did we learn? Nothing really, just that LA isn’t known for being superficial for nothing. Just take it all in stride.
Kirbie Johnson 