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  • Marco Vega

Confessions of a Butler.



Confession number one. Never have I ever seen an episode of RHW. Not a single one. I confessed this on the phone, when I was made the offer, and I was assured that this was an advantage.

Confession number two. I didn’t audition or sign up for this. This contract only came my way because of a friend’s, spouse’s, childhood friend needed someone fast, and my name got passed along.

Confession number three. I got onto an airplane in SLC going to CT not really knowing what the job was going to be. They said RHW and that “concierge” was the vibe they were going for; pouring drinks and helping out wherever needed. The important thing to me was that this contract was 9 days and was going to pay my rent.

Confession number four. I was instantly insecure out about my wardrobe. As I was packing, I asked how I should dress. They said, “as yourself”, but they don’t know me. I knew fully well what they wanted. Me to dress nicer than my usual self. Audition outfits, is how I framed it in my mind. Cool. But on the first day in Bluestone Manor, super nervous, I sweat though my entire first outfit. And later found out that most of the shirts I brought wouldn’t “film well”. Cool. They told me that they would buy me a shirt. Cool. But when they finally brought it to me, second to last day, it was actually a driver’s shirt. He was about my size? If I rolled up the sleeves it was fine.

Confession number five. The night of the bourbon tasting, I was told I could go home early, and while I was waiting to be sent back to the hotel; I had a few drinks. I wanted to sample Dorinda’s bourbon and the bartender took care of me. Confession number six. Music has been known to move me. My energy can populate an empty dance floor. When the producers sent me in to get the ladies dancing, they did not know I had this superpower.

Confession number seven. I called my wife every single night to tell her how things were going. This is my first time doing anything like this. For better or for worse, RHW is the biggest stage then I’ve ever set foot on. The night my shirt was ripped open… that was a long, emotional night for me. I had been away from my wife all summer, working at Utah Shakes, and almost immediately left again. Now, I was being undressed by some RHW of wherever? Yeah. No. My wife was hurt. No matter how I told the story, under any context, what happened really sucked. At 3am I was considering buying a ticket home. (With only three days left of shooting.)

Confession number eight. I wanted nothing more than to sit down on that patio furniture outside and smoke a fat joint with Eva. First, my “acceptable“ boots were killing my feet. Second, Eva is way more impressive in real life than on TV. Her carisma is outstanding and completely down to earth.

Confession number nine. One of the ladies did not want the so-called “cock wine” that Brandi had me deliver. So now I have one. Its actually stashed next to Jill‘s candle, and my maimed shirt. Confession number ten. I really just hope my RHW exposure helps me find representation. I need an agent. Please send me out on auditions. But RHW again? No. No, thank you.



After all:

It was a crazy life experience, and for that, I loved it. I’m sorry, deeply, that I cannot make a good martini.

Please forgive me for not being a real butler. Thank you for letting me, a classically trained, Puerto Rican actor, from Utah, “play” the Butler.






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