Woah. Just hacked into this blog. Now what?

Well … first, allow me to introduce myself. I’m Vinnie. Couple weeks ago, I broke into the restaurant formerly known as Elixir at OPUS Vancouver. See, they shut down for renos, but renos don’t start ‘til January, so guess what? I’m squatting. Hundred days of free rent. Sweet.

Soon as I got in, I had to make the place my own. All that brass and velvet, those tired Toulouse-Lautrec knock-offs? Gone. Kept the video monitors in the bathrooms though. I like to watch the ladies in OPUS Bar while drainin’ the main vein, know what I mean?

Next I painted those nasty yellow walls white and made ‘em my canvas. Some might call me a squatter, I call myself a graffiti artiste. I’ve defaced some of Vancouver’s fugliest monuments, and now I’m sprayin’ my territory here. Think murals, lots, always changing.

Thing is, not only am I insanely gifted as an artiste, I make a kick-ass burger too. So I thought, why not invite a few buddies over, cook up some eats, showcase my art, right? Suddenly, there’s a friggin’ lineup at the door. I call the joint 100 Days, ‘cause that’s all the time I have before the tool-belt brigade arrives and I get the boot.

Come check it out. Apologies in advance, though, it’s not a fancy place. Think raw, urban, industrial: plastic chairs, picnic tables, paint splatters, the occasional ladies’ shoe lying around (not tellin’, sorry). Plus cocktails and tunes from my buddy the DJ.

Keep it on the down-low though, ‘kay? Dudes who manage the hotel think I work in maintenance. A bit clueless if you ask me, but whatever.

Don’t be a slacker – don’t have much time left. And don’t be bringing no dirtbags or Tea Party folks, ya hear? This is a respectable establishment. Oh yeah, if you’re staying in the hotel, ask for me at the door, I’ll give you priority access. After all, you’re paying, I’m not. Heh heh.

Gotta blast. Guy who writes this blog, the James Bond wannabe? I think he’s on to me. Lucky he ain’t too bright. Least not judging by what I been reading here.

Later … Vinnie the Artiste

Catch 100 Days on Facebook and Twitter. See 100 Days website.

Photo Credit: Richard Wolak – Vancouver Foodster

Given the sheer volume and related security concerns, suppliers to the Games will face a number of logistical challenges. Hotels have the added stress of being a twenty-four-hour operation. That means long days and lots of overtime for staff, who may be reluctant to waste what little downtime they have battling traffic to get home and back again.

Typically, when employees work back-to-back shifts hotels put them up in a guestroom for the night to ensure they’re perky for guests in the morning. But with visitors now fighting over scraps of private homes, campgrounds and RV parks, that won’t be an option during the Olympics. Nor will crashing at a friend’s place. Spare rooms, sofas and inflatable mattresses will be taken by out-of-town friends and relatives. Or paying strangers. The demand for accommodation has brought new meaning to the term “Go for the gold!” Employees who do make it home might discover that their enterprising spouse has rented out their side of the bed to a small Norwegian family.

Over dinner recently, I asked Opus Hotel Vancouver General Manager Nicholas Gandossi about his plans. “I’m having a cot installed in my office,” he tells me with characteristic good-nature. “That way I can avoid the commute.”

Across the table, his wife Nicola, who works at another downtown hotel, shoots him a look. “And what about our two kids at home, honey?” she asks.

Nicholas scratches his chin. “Oh. Right. The kids.”

There’s no room for a cot in Opus Executive Chef Don Letendre’s office. “I’ll be sleeping in the storage room,” he tells me. “It won’t be the first time.” And his family? “They’ll be heading to Palm Springs. That way I can work around-the-clock guilt-free.”

At a hotel I worked for in Toronto, when we overbooked and the city was full we used to roll cots into our meeting rooms and house guests there, supplying free alcohol and snacks and positioning it as a slumber party. Guests were not amused, but it was better than sleeping in the street. During the Games, however, virtually every inch of meeting space has been pre-reserved for Olympic-related functions.

Employees may have to settle for catching a few winks leaning against a wall or spooning with a side of beef in the walk-in cooler. “My team will be bringing in sleeping bags and using the housekeeping office as our sleeping quarters,” Opus Executive Housekeeper Julieta Laliberty informs me. “That way we can be available 24/7.” But given the stockpiles hotels will require to service guests and cater events, employees may find themselves jockeying for space with cases of Okanagan wines, smoked salmon and maple syrup.

Despite the challenges, there’s no question that hotel staff in Vancouver and Whistler are pumped and ready for the Games. To ease the pressure, temporary employees have been recruited and reinforcements are being sent from sister properties. At Opus, where offsite catering commitments alone will require an additional 150 employees, a group of bilingual staff from Opus Montreal will fly in to help out. With all the excitement around, sleep might only be a distraction.

Along with the cot, Nicholas has had a 52-inch plasma-screen television installed in his office. “Purely for professional reasons,” he assures me, mumbling something about video-conferencing. Right. I’ll bet that whenever Canada makes the finals in a sporting event, employees will be crawling out of storage rooms, closets and room service carts, and it’ll be standing-room only in the GM’s office.

Stay tuned for the January launch of the 2010 Winter Olympics edition of Opus Vancouver’s Lifestyle Concierge.

I have just spent an evening at your trendy little address in Vancouver and felt I should convey my observations for the sake of fellow travelers, loungers and food lovers.

A little selective disclosure: I travel extensively, have enjoyed all manner of lodgings, from the piteous to the posh, and have come to appreciate good food and fine wine. In short, according to your Lifestyle Concierge quiz, I am “Pierre”, right down to my strong preference for all things French. That you were able to peg my profile so closely borders on privacy invasion – if it weren’t so flattering.

First impressions: If your staff were any more accommodating, I might believe they actually enjoy what they do (perhaps they get paid too much – you might want to look into that). “We’ll have our hotel car take you there.” “I’m sure we can launder your shirt for this evening.” “We’ll see what we can do about finding a replacement sock.” (Don’t ask.) It all got to be a bit tiresome, I must say. I take great pleasure in finding fault, and deeply resented being deprived of such.

A hotel reveals itself not all at once but in layers of nuanced and subtle detail, like a beautiful woman or, in culinary terms, an onion. Take your fitness room. Bright and well equipped indeed, but was that larger-than-life, nude mural near the entrance meant to motivate or mock me? The closest I will ever get to becoming this Adam of Eden was one of the complimentary apples, which at first seemed like a consolation prize, but as the evening progressed became more a symbol of temptation. Then again, I could have been reading too much into it.

As for my room, like Pierre, I approved of its “airy and fresh décor, a tad conservative, eclectic and cozy” reflecting my “tony and traditional lifestyle” (your words not mine, and if I may you’re trying just a bit too hard). However, I do have a quibble about the “intimacy kit” in the amenity drawer: thoughtful, yes, but only one prophylactic? A bit lacking for someone of my prowess. The last thing I want to worry about while in flagrante is whether supplies will run out, to say nothing of the awkward conversation with room service (you try tipping without pockets). And the oxygen dispenser? This is Vancouver for heaven’s sake, not Mexico City. Yet I had to confess it might come in handy and placed it next to the intimacy kit. As for the bathroom and its enormous window overlooking the room, I love the open concept – a little voyeuristic and naughty (parts of my profile your quiz missed) – but my 82-year-old grandmother might see it differently.

A word about your car service. The BMW 7 Series is built for speed and should to be driven as such. I was totally unimpressed with your driver’s insistence on going the speed limit and adamantly refusing my commands to cut other drivers off and jump meridians. Yes, there were small children in the area, but I was late for my fitting at Harry Rosen, and small children have never impeded my drivers in Paris. A small suggestion: send driving staff to the Grand Prix for training.

I had been looking forward to a drink at notorious hotspot Opus Bar, so was disappointed that it wasn’t busier. Yes, it was rather early, but it was cocktail hour somewhere in the world. Kristina, my sultry waitress, informed me that staff were setting up for a private party that evening, “when the real debauchery begins.” I took that thought with me to the loo, where the only thing that separates the boys from the girls, besides the obvious, is a window. My poor grandmother would have had to hold her bladder all night long. To my delight I found video screens mounted above the urinals, allowing me to spy on people in the lounge while relieving myself. Two were broken, however, and I was obliged to wait in line for one that worked, and then rejoin the line after others complained I was taking too long. Kindly repair.

Now, I’m no Anton Ego (the uber-critic from Ratatouille) but like him, I have a soft spot for simple dishes, perfectly prepared. The menu at Elixir was inventive and inviting, if a bit rich. Bypassing the lobster bisque and biodynamic risotto, I followed my inner “Ego” and chose the rib-eye, with pecorino and truffle oil pommes frites, all preceded by the poached pears, for balance of course. As I sipped an exquisite glass of Garry Oaks Fetish (you know me so well), I couldn’t help but be baffled by Elixir’s French-bistro décor and its contrast to the ultra chic Opus Bar only metres away. It was as if the two venues were competing. If they were, Opus Bar won, because as much as I love fine cuisine I love les jolies femmes even more. There, Kristina had been true to her word: by 11:00 pm the party had spilled into the lobby (ever hear of a retaining wall?) and the area resembled a mosh pit – granted, with the most beautiful and fragrant bodies one might ever be accidentally pushed against.

In the interest of discretion I feel obliged to wrap things up here. In conclusion, would I return to your hotel? Let me simply say this: If the devil is in the details, then she must have a room at Opus.

Yours truly,
“Pierre”

P.S. I’m only slightly exaggerating when I say the Tylenol and oxygen canister brought me back to life on Saturday morning. Whoever put them in the mini-bar deserves a promotion.

I was whining about this to my Mom over dinner last night, likely boring her to tears, and she basically told me to get over myself. Did I think being a general manager would be a walk in the park? I really hate it when she’s right. Problem is, I’ve never been fully convinced I want to be a hotel manager. Right now folding sweaters at the Gap or greeting at Walmart is sounding pretty appealing. I’ve always been in the hotel industry a bit grudgingly, convinced that another career is out there for me, one with more pay, less hours and frequent trips to Tahiti. Don’t get me wrong, I love my job. LOVE IT. But would I want to be a general manager anywhere but Opus? Probably not.

Normally things settle down for me this time of year and I’m one of those irritating people drifting around in a boozy haze. But recently my job got a lot bigger. I’ve assumed responsibility for Elixir and Opus Bar. When Opus opened four years ago the hotel and the restaurant/lounge were set up as separate companies, and I joined the hotel side. The ownership wanted to avoid the dreaded curse of hotel restaurants: bad food, inflated prices and poor financial performance that sucks the life out of the more profitable rooms division. So Elixir was given its own identity, its own entrance and a brasserie concept that contrasted with the hotel’s contemporary style. Things have worked out well for the most part, and Elixir and Opus Bar are popular with locals and guests alike. But there have been internal challenges and problems with consistency. For me it’s been frustrating not to have control over food and beverage, but at the same time it’s allowed me to focus all my attention on the hotel. All that will change now that we’re one big family.

When Elixir staff first heard I was getting involved they were nervous. I guess someone told them about my days as a waiter in Toronto when I was in my early twenties. I had two waiter jobs, one in a fine-dining restaurant and the other in a nightclub on ladies’ nights. My specialty was spilling drinks, usually on people, like the cold glass of milk I dumped down an elderly woman’s back and all over her fur coat. She screamed so loud everyone ran over to look. I was so embarrassed and apologetic that she felt sorry for me and gave me an enormous tip. At the nightclub I didn’t fare as well with spills. The ladies wanted my scrawny butt out of the way so they could see the big, buff strippers. Now that Elixir staff know I won’t be waiting on tables, they’re very supportive of the change.

Present position excluded, serving tables is the most stressful job I’ve ever had. Anyone who scrimps on the tip after receiving good service should be forced to spend a day as a server. I still have a recurring nightmare in which I have a section full of hungry, angry guests and the kitchen is totally backed up. It’s like those university dreams where you show up for an exam and realize you never attended class. (Other people have those dreams too, right? It’s not just me?)

Once I get a director of food and beverage in place the workload should ease up. I’m really excited about working with our management team to provide a seamlessly brilliant experience in Elixir, Opus Bar and Opus Hotel in 2007. Stay tuned, and swing by.

One last note. Condé Nast Traveler’s 2007 Gold List is out and once again Opus has been recognized as one of the top hotels in the world. What’s also cool is the write-up tells readers to “check out the general manager’s irreverent blog”. Thanks for the plug, CNT.

Wishing all of you a very happy new year! Hope to see you at Opus soon.