I've been in SF for the past few days for my industry's annual national convention. My industry likes to do things first class. Going to dinner for a group of 8-12 and having the bill come to $8,000 is nothing for them. How do I know this? I sign the check.
Which brings me to the St. Regis Hotel in San Francisco. My work never puts me up in a slum when I need to spend the night somewhere. I should be thankful. However, it get a little riduculous at the St. Regis. I have my own private butler. I'm not allowed to iron my own clothing or retrieve my own ice. WTF? Really? Are you KIDDING me?
Heaven forbid if I should run out of toilet paper. Private BUTT-ler.
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