Normally making your VIP’s wife cry is something to be avoided but on this occasion my inner party-monkey was doing triple somersaults of glee.
The group was in Beijing and all we’d told them was that we’d be visiting the Great Wall ‘on the way to dinner’. We were actually having dinner on the Wall itself but they didn’t need to know that, it would be a nice surprise right?
Anyhoo, the coaches arrived at the Wall (which was deserted – all the tourists having gone home at 6pm) and the group was greeted by costumed Chinese warriors barring the way, each holding an evil looking spear adorned with the client’s flag. One word from me and the way was clear, the group set off up the steep steps of the wall.
My carefully planned schedule allowed them half an hour or so to meander upwards meaning that they’d still be within earshot when my drummers and Lion Dance began to entice them back down.
Schedule be dammed, they’d all been watching too many charity walk documentaries and set off as if their lives depended on it. Within 5 minutes the leaders were almost out of sight and unless I took drastic action I’d be eating dinner by myself. I dispatched a round up crew to rein them in……..
The less energetic returned quite quickly and happily stood around surveying the view, watching the Lion Dance and sipping drinks. Finally, everyone was accounted for (bar one but I’ll get to him later) so I gave the nod to the drummers and they began to lead the group down the steps to a part of the wall where we’d set up for dinner.
It had been raining in the morning and the marquee builders had been working all afternoon to set up an amazing tent covering the beautifully set tables (a blessing in disguise as it meant that no one had been able to see the dinner set up while they were scaling the Wall earlier). We had client gobos projected in all directions, a full stage and lighting rig and the catering was being done by St Regis (with one fully white tie and tailed waiter per two guests). It all looked rather stunning – if I do say so myself.
Back to the client’s wife - she took one look and promptly burst into tears. Of course I rushed over, heart in my boots, to see what was wrong only to be caught up in a huge hug and an emotional ‘thank you, thank you, it’s just unbelievable’.
Hence the inner party-monkey’s acrobatics.
The reason for the dinner was to recognize the client’s dealers’ efforts in earning their places on the trip and the entertainment for the night had to be very impressive. We had traditional musicians, a troupe of 14 year old contortionists (I could hear the group gasping in sympathy from backstage), diabolo performers, a 15 strong fan dance and two ‘face off’ performers. Now Face Off is something that just has to be seen to be believed. With each flick of the head or swish of the fan a different mask is revealed, culminating in the client’s logo painted onto the performer’s face. It’s one of the coolest things I’ve seen in a long time and I’ve no idea how it’s done. It’s a centuries old art and they make up in secret to preserve the mystery.
All in all once of the most impressive dinners I’ve ever done and a real career highlight.
But what about the intrepid explorer, last seen disappearing into the hills? He joined us for dinner eventually although the poor guide sent to get him chased him for nearly an hour. (He said later that he kept looking back at this girl in the distance and was amazed at how fit she was – honestly, we were the only people in the area, you’d think he’d guess that she might have been trying to get his attention…..). She eventually caught him and brought him down.
He was invigorated and elated - she didn’t look so hot though, I think she spent the rest of the night recovering on the back seat of one of the coaches.......
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
Sunday, July 19, 2009
A Brush With The Law in The Rockies
Months. I'd been working for months in the lead up to the Canadian Incentive Trip to get a real, live Mountie to come and meet my group but all my attempts had been in vain.
I lost count of the emails and phone calls and still no one would agree. So, in the true spirit of artistic license I stuck by the old classic, 'if you can't get the real thing, make it up'. Accordingly, I left the Fairmont Banff Springs hotel on the afternoon of the gala dinner to head to Lake Louise for rehearsals with my evening's actors and musicians, secure in the knowledge that the group's coach would be happily 'hijacked' by an authentic looking Mountie half way between Banff and Lake Louise - read the riot act about speeding etc etc and then allowed on their way having had a little thrill and with something to tell the folks back home while my 'actor' headed to the nearest bar for a well earned pint.
All had proceeded according to plan. My second in command had called to tell me that the fake Mountie had performed very well (and that half the ladies in the group were in love.....) and that they were now all cheerily having cocktails on the terrace in front of the lake, arguing over the true colour of the water - blue, green, blue, green and so it went on.
I returned to perfecting the art of a Gold Rush bar room brawl (which needed to spill out of our temporary saloon at the very moment that our guests were to arrive in their horse drawn carts) and instructing my saloon girls on the fine line between flirting with the punters and sexual harassment but it wasn't long before I was called out to the front of the venue by the manager. "Um, Lisa - there's someone to see you" he stuttered.
Tutt tutting to myself - it would be only a few minutes until the group arrived - I walked around the corner smack bang into a very young and very handsome guy (wearing what I had discovered during my months of begging the Royal Canadian Mounted Police was regular uniform ie Blue, not Red). I mistakenly assumed that this was my Mountie actor. About to launch into a tirade (about specifically requesting that he wear the Red 'dress' uniform and asking why he was here, his gig was over- was he expecting a tip) I looked over his shoulder and caught sight of the vehicle parked behind him. An honest to god police car! He was actually the real thing - my perseverance had paid off. His timing was off obviously but at least he'd made an effort. Mental high fives and Irish jigs galore - I'm sooooo good at my job!!
I'll never know what stopped me from launching myself at him in gratitude for turning up to see my group and abject apology as I'd sorted something else out and that he was too late, we'd already moved onto another 'theme'. I guess someone was watching over me that day as I restrained myself long enough to hear the first of his questions.
"Ma'am, are you aware that it is illegal to either impersonate or hire someone to impersonate an officer of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police?"
Needless to say, there was some seriously fancy footwork undertaken in the next 5 minutes (and let me tell you, it was a lot harder than talking your way out of a speeding ticket).
Looking back on it later I felt incredibly noble in that not only had I risked arrest, all in the name of my job, but that all I could think of as I was trying to talk my way out of legal proceedings was not that I would very shortly be locked up in a cell in the Canadian Rockies but that this guy was going to ruin the effect of the beautiful bar room brawl that we'd been working on all afternoon.......
Things to see/do in Banff: Maple Leaf Restaurant, Fairmont Banff Springs, White Water Rafting, Lake Louise (winter or summer!!)
I lost count of the emails and phone calls and still no one would agree. So, in the true spirit of artistic license I stuck by the old classic, 'if you can't get the real thing, make it up'. Accordingly, I left the Fairmont Banff Springs hotel on the afternoon of the gala dinner to head to Lake Louise for rehearsals with my evening's actors and musicians, secure in the knowledge that the group's coach would be happily 'hijacked' by an authentic looking Mountie half way between Banff and Lake Louise - read the riot act about speeding etc etc and then allowed on their way having had a little thrill and with something to tell the folks back home while my 'actor' headed to the nearest bar for a well earned pint.
All had proceeded according to plan. My second in command had called to tell me that the fake Mountie had performed very well (and that half the ladies in the group were in love.....) and that they were now all cheerily having cocktails on the terrace in front of the lake, arguing over the true colour of the water - blue, green, blue, green and so it went on.
I returned to perfecting the art of a Gold Rush bar room brawl (which needed to spill out of our temporary saloon at the very moment that our guests were to arrive in their horse drawn carts) and instructing my saloon girls on the fine line between flirting with the punters and sexual harassment but it wasn't long before I was called out to the front of the venue by the manager. "Um, Lisa - there's someone to see you" he stuttered.
Tutt tutting to myself - it would be only a few minutes until the group arrived - I walked around the corner smack bang into a very young and very handsome guy (wearing what I had discovered during my months of begging the Royal Canadian Mounted Police was regular uniform ie Blue, not Red). I mistakenly assumed that this was my Mountie actor. About to launch into a tirade (about specifically requesting that he wear the Red 'dress' uniform and asking why he was here, his gig was over- was he expecting a tip) I looked over his shoulder and caught sight of the vehicle parked behind him. An honest to god police car! He was actually the real thing - my perseverance had paid off. His timing was off obviously but at least he'd made an effort. Mental high fives and Irish jigs galore - I'm sooooo good at my job!!
I'll never know what stopped me from launching myself at him in gratitude for turning up to see my group and abject apology as I'd sorted something else out and that he was too late, we'd already moved onto another 'theme'. I guess someone was watching over me that day as I restrained myself long enough to hear the first of his questions.
"Ma'am, are you aware that it is illegal to either impersonate or hire someone to impersonate an officer of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police?"
Needless to say, there was some seriously fancy footwork undertaken in the next 5 minutes (and let me tell you, it was a lot harder than talking your way out of a speeding ticket).
Looking back on it later I felt incredibly noble in that not only had I risked arrest, all in the name of my job, but that all I could think of as I was trying to talk my way out of legal proceedings was not that I would very shortly be locked up in a cell in the Canadian Rockies but that this guy was going to ruin the effect of the beautiful bar room brawl that we'd been working on all afternoon.......
Things to see/do in Banff: Maple Leaf Restaurant, Fairmont Banff Springs, White Water Rafting, Lake Louise (winter or summer!!)
Memories of Moscow
“How am I going to tell my boss that I’ve lost our VIP client and the rest of his team on the Moscow underground?”
The answer to this question eluded me as, standing in the middle of Red Square I frantically dialed and redialed the client’s mobile number,
The trip to Russia had started according to plan. The incentive group had been suitably impressed by Domodedevo Airport’s intimidating immigration officers and the drab, 60’s style blocks of flats lining the roads on the way to the hotel. It felt right, austere, forbidding, very Russian.
We’d visited the Kremlin and the armoury (full of gold, silver, sparkling Faberge creations and deliciously macabre weapons), Red Square and St Basil’s Cathedral (Lenin was off on his annual vacation with Chairman Mao, being reembalmed), met some authentic Moscovites (stern and dour looking but with a heart of gold) and tried some real Russian food (waistlines beware).
Our last day in Moscow also started well. The sun had made a stunning appearance (I don’t think it had a permit but it showed up anyway, bouncing off the golden domes of the Kremlin and turning the Moskva river into a sparkling conveyor belt of diamonds. The locals, obviously taken by surprise, also sported the beginnings of a smile and even considered removing at least one layer of clothing.
We split the group into teams and briefed them on their morning activities – KGB training. Each team, given their own minibus and driver, was given several tasks to complete at various Moscow locations and following these simple events we’d all meet for lunch at the designated spot and toast the winning team’s efforts with copious amounts of vodka. We’d been planning this activity for months, every eventuality had been thought of and nothing could go wrong – or so we thought.
However, my VIP, showing true leadership abilities, decided to bypass my ‘spotter’ in the metro station and take a short cut (to where no one knows). Thus, during one of my regular ‘calls from HQ’ the last words I had heard from him were “Don’t worry, we’re just getting on the train now……..”
Like a mother who has lost her child, images of every single possible horror that could happen to my lost sheep ran through my brain as I consulted the metro map to figure out how and where we could intercept the rogue team before they reached outer Siberia.
Suddenly, and I’m sure that this couldn’t happen on many underground systems in the world, my call was connected. “Hi Lisa”, the client said breezily.
‘GET OFF THE TRAIN!” - my desperate plea echoed around the square and was made only slightly more embarrassing by the arrival of the rest of the teams who, rapidly understanding what had happened, started whooping and cheering and generally creating an atmosphere of happiness (causing several passing policemen to consider arresting us all for a public display of hilarity)
To cut the rest of the long story short, the team got off the train, were immediately apprehended by my scouts and escorted back to the meeting point. They were so excited by their close encounter with…..what exactly?….that looking back I think it was one of the high points of their trip. The vodka was indeed consumed over their tales of daring exploits and acts of bravery (bear in mind they were only on the train for 20 seconds). This group loved Moscow and its sense of life and ongoing change, vigour and vibrance and youthful fascination with Western commercialism but in truth I’m considering losing the next group too – on purpose and in a very controlled way….of course!!
Musts in Moscow: Hotel Kempinski, Genetsvale Restaurant, The Bolshoi, A ride along the river and above all interaction with the locals……
The answer to this question eluded me as, standing in the middle of Red Square I frantically dialed and redialed the client’s mobile number,
The trip to Russia had started according to plan. The incentive group had been suitably impressed by Domodedevo Airport’s intimidating immigration officers and the drab, 60’s style blocks of flats lining the roads on the way to the hotel. It felt right, austere, forbidding, very Russian.
We’d visited the Kremlin and the armoury (full of gold, silver, sparkling Faberge creations and deliciously macabre weapons), Red Square and St Basil’s Cathedral (Lenin was off on his annual vacation with Chairman Mao, being reembalmed), met some authentic Moscovites (stern and dour looking but with a heart of gold) and tried some real Russian food (waistlines beware).
Our last day in Moscow also started well. The sun had made a stunning appearance (I don’t think it had a permit but it showed up anyway, bouncing off the golden domes of the Kremlin and turning the Moskva river into a sparkling conveyor belt of diamonds. The locals, obviously taken by surprise, also sported the beginnings of a smile and even considered removing at least one layer of clothing.
We split the group into teams and briefed them on their morning activities – KGB training. Each team, given their own minibus and driver, was given several tasks to complete at various Moscow locations and following these simple events we’d all meet for lunch at the designated spot and toast the winning team’s efforts with copious amounts of vodka. We’d been planning this activity for months, every eventuality had been thought of and nothing could go wrong – or so we thought.
However, my VIP, showing true leadership abilities, decided to bypass my ‘spotter’ in the metro station and take a short cut (to where no one knows). Thus, during one of my regular ‘calls from HQ’ the last words I had heard from him were “Don’t worry, we’re just getting on the train now……..”
Like a mother who has lost her child, images of every single possible horror that could happen to my lost sheep ran through my brain as I consulted the metro map to figure out how and where we could intercept the rogue team before they reached outer Siberia.
Suddenly, and I’m sure that this couldn’t happen on many underground systems in the world, my call was connected. “Hi Lisa”, the client said breezily.
‘GET OFF THE TRAIN!” - my desperate plea echoed around the square and was made only slightly more embarrassing by the arrival of the rest of the teams who, rapidly understanding what had happened, started whooping and cheering and generally creating an atmosphere of happiness (causing several passing policemen to consider arresting us all for a public display of hilarity)
To cut the rest of the long story short, the team got off the train, were immediately apprehended by my scouts and escorted back to the meeting point. They were so excited by their close encounter with…..what exactly?….that looking back I think it was one of the high points of their trip. The vodka was indeed consumed over their tales of daring exploits and acts of bravery (bear in mind they were only on the train for 20 seconds). This group loved Moscow and its sense of life and ongoing change, vigour and vibrance and youthful fascination with Western commercialism but in truth I’m considering losing the next group too – on purpose and in a very controlled way….of course!!
Musts in Moscow: Hotel Kempinski, Genetsvale Restaurant, The Bolshoi, A ride along the river and above all interaction with the locals……
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