Jessica, Ryan, and Miguel: My Picks for “The Apprentice”

When I checked in to the Trump International Hotel in Las Vegas, it was clear that “The Donald” did, in fact, own this hotel. The gold decorations, the TV embedded in the bathroom mirror, and the polished, eager-to-please employees all carried his signature. The fact that it didn’t have a casino inside also made it attractive to me.

I was there to meet Mindshare’s international partners, who had flown in from Austria, Italy, and Switzerland to discuss customer feedback and the customer experience on a global scale. Our meetings were going to cover critically important material, which necessitated a critically important hotel.

On our first night there, to match the atmosphere of the Trump International, we dined at Del Frisco’s Double Eagle Steak House, where the service is almost too good to be true. My water was filled five times by five different people. Five different people! In addition, we watched eight people set a table for 20, which was like watching some kind of synchronized Olympic event. The precision was amazing. As for the food—it had no trouble keeping up with the service.


The next morning at the Trump, we sat down and solved all the world’s problems. It was a great morning. The meetings even ended with just enough time for me to run up to my room on the 45th floor, grab my stuff, and head straight to the airport. (By the way, the elevators there fly so fast it feels like you never moved—doors just close on one floor and open on another.)

Once I had teleported to my room’s outer door, I put my key in only to find that it no longer worked. I was locked out! Seriously? I tried every key trick in the book, and then I panicked. I called down for someone, anyone, to come to my aid. I was running out of time and was not going to make my flight.

The front desk sent security to my aid, which, I have to admit, made me feel secure and scared all at the same time. Not sure why, but it did. I guess I figured Trump’s security apprentices had to be the real deal. A few short minutes later, Officer Jessica McCormick showed at my locked door.


Because Jessica is here and in control. She assured me that entry into the room was imminent and that I shouldn’t worry. I stopped worrying, but only until her master super-secret key also failed to open the door to my room. I checked my watch and realized I was in serious trouble. I was going to miss my flight, and I think I lost 10 pounds in 10 seconds thanks to the black magic of stress.

Jessica called the engineering team and told me that she would not leave my side. With her right there calling the shots, I regained some confidence. Instead of waiting idly, she decided to try her key one more time, and, for whatever reason, this time it worked.

Before letting me in, Jessica quickly verified that I was actually Lonnie Mayne. Even considering my newly lost stress weight, the photo on my ID still looked familiar enough to pass. In the seconds it took me to grab my bag, Jessica called down to arrange a car to take me to the airport. I hadn’t expected this at all; in fact, I was already envisioning a hectic cab ride for myself. Jessica knew I was cutting it close and was already one step ahead.

Not only did she arrange for the car, she descended all 45 floors with me and personally introduced me to Bell Captain Ryan Matthews, who took over without missing a beat. He escorted me around a lengthy checkout line and rushed me through the VIP checkout in no more than two minutes before introducing me to Miguel Ortega, who immediately grabbed my bags and gently threw me into the back seat of a black SUV headed for the Vegas airport.


While I was sitting in the back seat I felt for just a minute the way I believe Mr. Trump might feel, and then I realized that this crew had no idea who I was, and, in fact, didn’t care; they just knew that I was a customer in need, and they were going to give me the best Red Shoes experience they could, no matter what kind of day I was having.

Bottom line: I made my flight and had an absolutely amazing experience with the Trump team, even though I was faced with a bit of adversity.

Now, Mr. Trump, if you personally don’t reach out to these three amazing “apprentices” (Jessica, Ryan, and Miguel) and thank them for taking care of an average guy in need, then “you’re fired!” (Your words, not mine.)

So here’s to the three Trump International employees who should be wearing red shoes each and every day because they simply stand out.