Category: Blog

Everyone thinks we would be used to it by now, but that’s not the case. No matter how many famous faces walk through the doors, there’s always that first second where our brain freezes, and we’re like, “Is that really her?” I can’t believe my eyes.

As somebody who works at the front desk of a luxury building in Manhattan, it means I get the occasional A-listers, influencers, athletes or even trending tech moguls, not just analysts or fund managers. Some are here for meetings with private equity firms. While others are trying to secure funding for a new brand, movie, or app. And some are just tagging along with their high-powered partners.

The very first time I met a celebrity, I almost forgot how to buzz someone in. It gave me a frozen moment when I saw someone who shows up on TV or in magazines; I was amazed. I can’t take names because of NDAs, but let’s say she was somebody who’s always wearing sunglasses, even indoors, like it’s a job. She smiled at me, asked if there was a restroom, and somehow made even that seem glamorous.

But not all of them are nice; some don’t even look up, and they talk to me like I’m nonexistent there. But others, surprisingly many of them are incredibly kind and warm. One pop star even complimented my earrings. Another, a legendary actor, joked that I must have the hardest job in the building dealing with “Wall Street robots.”

The most hard part of my job is staying cool. I can’t fangirl, ask for selfies or even hint that I recognize them. It’s this weird, odd game of pretending like we are all just regular people here to talk about quarterly returns. Except they’re wearing Balenciaga, and I’m behind a desk with a blinking landline.
I have seen staff swarm in, PR people waiting patiently for the celebs to come out, stylists adjusting last-minute touch-ups, everything that happens. I have seen it.

A lot of times, I wonder what it must feel like to walk into a room and know everyone recognizes you and yet pretends not to know you. I think it must be lonely in a strange way. The glamour of the cameras are only until the lights are on; once they’re off, the real life begins to sink in.

People think this job is just answering phones and pointing to conference rooms. But for me, it’s much more than just that; it’s a front-row seat to the intersection of fame, money, and ambition. Celebrities might not remember me, but I remember them not just how they looked but how they treated the people who didn’t matter. And that tells you a lot about them; just looking at people the way they treat someone, we can know if they are truly honest and caring.…

If you’re thinking that being at the front desk of a 5-star hotel in York City is all smiles and glow, let me tell you, you’re only seeing the surface of it. My name is Grace, and for the past few years, I’ve stood behind the polished marble desk of one of Manhattan’s most luxurious hotels, wearing a navy blazer and the world’s most rehearsed smile.

First impressions matter a lot, and I’m the first face many people see when they walk in from JFK or roll up in a black car from Wall Street. A few are jet-lagged, in Prada or sweatpants; they all expect the same thing: perfection. And my job is to deliver it, no matter what’s going on behind the scenes, our life.

I have had to check in rockstars, royalty, influencers and the occasional billionaire who prefers not to be noticed. But we always know who they are; we just pretend to not see it. I’ve also helped frazzled parents find lost teddy bears and once translated an emergency prescription from Portuguese at 3 a.m.

My job is equal parts diplomacy, detective work and emotional labor. The real challenge? Anticipating needs that are never spoken. The guest who mentions their anniversary in passing expects a surprise in their suite. The CEO who arrives early expects their room ready even if check-in isn’t until 3. The VIP who books under a fake name still wants their usual corner suite with the feather pillows.

Then there are the occasional meltdowns over the scent of the room, the view not facing Central Park, or the fact that we don’t serve oat milk in the minibar. We learnt to say “of course” even when we want to say, “You are being too unreasonable” It’s all part of the game.

But it’s not always the stress and phoniness; there are real connections. The elderly couple tells you this trip is their first-ever vacation. Sometimes, kids give you a lollipop as a thank you. The solo traveler checks out and says quietly, “I felt safe here”. There’s always pride in it when somebody is happy to have had a good stay over.

At the end of a long shift, when I kick off my heels and head down the subway steps, I carry a strange pride. In a city that never stops moving, I helped someone feel at home, even if only for a night.

So if you ever stay at a luxury hotel and the receptionist greets you like they’ve been waiting just for you, they have. It’s our job to make you believe that. And most days, we really mean it.…