Going To Vegas

It was 1985, and I was a fresh-faced technical support representative for Polaroid, winging my way to my first-ever business trip. Destination: Las Vegas. Mission: work the company booth at CONDEX. As a newbie to business travel and a Vegas virgin, I was navigating the world of corporate expenses armed with a brand-new American Express card, a naive sense of competence, and zero clue about Sin City’s quirks.

After a red-eye flight from Boston, I stumbled bleary-eyed into the Hertz counter. My carefully reserved economy car was supposed to get me to the MGM Hotel. What I didn’t know? Vegas isn’t exactly a “driving city.” Shuttles and taxis reign supreme, while driving and parking are about as appealing as swimming in a suit of armor. But I was determined.

The Hertz agent’s apologetic smile said it all. “We don’t have your economy car, sir.”
“Then why’d you take my reservation?” I asked, half-serious, half-sarcastic.
“Not to worry! We’ve upgraded you at no extra charge,” she chirped.

Moments later, I stood in the lot, staring at the “upgrade.” A cherry red 1985 Cadillac Eldorado Biarritz, gleaming in the neon glow. Convertible top, leather seats, opera lamps, and enough chrome to blind the Vegas Strip. It was as if Elvis had ordered this car specifically for his triumphant return to life and now this would be my rocket ship baptism to Vegas… The city of sin …you never come out the way you came in…

I popped the trunk, tossed in my bag (big enough for Tony Soprano and Big Pussy) , and wondered if the Mafia had ever used this car for “business purposes.” With the top down, AC blasting, and BB King crooning “The Thrill is Gone” on the radio, I cruised down the Vegas Strip. I felt like a king—until I didn’t.

Rolling up to the MGM Hotel, I was greeted by a mirage of authority in the form of our company’s Sales VP, my boss’s boss. He was waiting for a shuttle, drenched in sweat, looking like he’d spent the day in a slow cooker. As I rolled up in my crimson chariot, BB’s voice wailing from the speakers, his eyes locked onto me like a hawk spotting its prey.

His finger pointed and curled, summoning me like a disobedient child being called home by their mother.
“Come here, Fergy,” he barked, cutting through BB’s mournful blues.

I sheepishly parked, slid out of the Cadillac, and stood before him like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar.
“I see you’re spending my money wisely, Eldorado Don,” he said, raising an eyebrow.

I opened my mouth to explain, but he wasn’t in the mood for excuses.
“Congratulations. You’ve just promoted yourself to the role of my personal conference chauffeur,” he declared with the authority of a Vegas casino pit boss.

And just like that, my technical support responsibilities were temporarily replaced with driving duties. For the rest of the week, I carted him around the Strip in style, enduring his jokes about “Eldorado Don” and vowing to read the fine print on every future corporate reservation.

Moral of the Story

Even in Vegas, where luck and indulgence rule, business travel is no game of craps. Know that an “upgrade” often comes with strings attached. The power of a good first impression can put your career in the drivers seat…and in my case it did, but the string was having my VP in the seat right behind me.