My brother’s wedding planner called: “Your family canceled your invitation, but asked to keep the $65K deposit you paid.” I said, “Cancel the entire wedding.” She gasped, “But sir, you’re not the bride—” “No, but I own the venue, the catering company, and the hotel chain they booked for guests…”
The phone call that ended my brother’s wedding didn’t come from a hysterical bride or a cold-footed groom. It came from a clipboard-wielding intermediary named Victoria Hayes, a woman whose voice was usually as crisp as the linens at my five-star establishments. “Miss Warren,” she began, her professional veneer cracking slightly at the edges. “I’ve been…
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