A few years ago, I found myself in one of the most frustrating professional experiences of my life. As a general contractor with years of experience under my belt, I was approached to help open a new high-end restaurant in Aspen called Nello. The idea was to bring the glamour and exclusivity of its original New York location to the mountains of Colorado. What sounded like a promising project quickly turned into a logistical disaster that left me burned, both financially and emotionally.
It all started on a cold winter morning when I drove up to the site for our first inspection. I had taken a job in Aspen before and was familiar with the quirks of working in such a unique environment. Aspen is known for its high-end clientele, and projects here are usually smooth if everyone involved knows their role. But this was different. From the moment I arrived, I could sense that the Nello project was going to be anything but smooth. The ambitious timeline, lack of clear communication, and constant meddling from outside parties set the stage for chaos.
My first red flag was the unrealistic deadlines. The owners were determined to have the restaurant open in record time to capture the lucrative ski season. While this is understandable from a business perspective, they refused to acknowledge the logistical hurdles involved. Aspen is a small town with limited resources, and getting specialized materials or labor can take time. Despite my repeated warnings, they kept pushing for faster progress, and I reluctantly agreed to try and make it happen.
Every day began with a long commute. My truck would make its way through icy roads, and while I’d normally enjoy the scenic beauty of the Rockies, this project was too stressful to allow for that. There were days I wished I had booked a more comfortable way to get around, like using this Aspen car service to save myself the hassle of driving. But I figured I was already putting in so much unpaid overtime that I couldn’t justify the extra expense. Looking back, I probably should have treated myself better during such a nightmare.
The challenges piled up quickly. Materials were delayed, subcontractors bailed at the last minute, and changes to the design seemed to come in daily. The owners couldn’t make up their minds about the aesthetic. One day they wanted sleek and modern; the next, they were demanding a more rustic, mountain lodge feel. As a general contractor, I’m used to juggling client demands, but this was on another level. Every decision felt like a moving target, and it became impossible to stick to a timeline.
On top of that, Aspen’s unpredictable winter weather didn’t help. There were days when snowfall delayed deliveries or kept workers from making it to the site. At one point, I remember standing in the freezing cold with a group of electricians as we tried to salvage wiring that had been exposed to the elements because someone forgot to tarp it properly. It was clear that no one had a handle on the overall coordination of the project, and the blame seemed to always fall on me.
The pressure to meet the unrealistic deadline led to cutting corners. The owners started bringing in people who were completely unqualified for the work, hoping to speed things up. One day I arrived to find a guy who claimed to be a flooring expert trying to install high-end tile in the dining area. The result was a mess of uneven surfaces and poorly aligned patterns that we had to rip out and redo, wasting precious time and money. It was infuriating, but I knew walking away would mean forfeiting any chance of getting paid.
What made the experience even more surreal was the lavish lifestyle the owners seemed to lead. While the workers and I were freezing on-site and eating fast food for lunch, they’d show up in chauffeured cars or SUVs from services like from Aspen Way To Go, checking in for a few minutes before disappearing to a nearby luxury lodge. They’d make sweeping decisions and leave before anyone could ask practical questions about how to implement their ideas. Their indifference to the actual labor that went into the project was demoralizing.
As opening day approached, the pressure became unbearable. The owners were panicking, subcontractors were quitting, and tensions on-site were at an all-time high. We managed to cobble everything together just in time, but the results were far from what I’d call polished. Paint was still drying as the first guests walked through the door, and I knew deep down that the restaurant wasn’t ready. Still, the owners seemed satisfied, more focused on the hype of the opening night than the long-term viability of their restaurant.
When the dust settled, I began chasing my payment. Weeks turned into months, and every time I called or emailed, I was met with excuses. First, they claimed they needed to finalize their finances after the opening. Then they said they’d “lost” some of the invoices I’d sent. Eventually, they just stopped responding altogether. Despite putting in countless hours, sacrificing weekends, and dealing with one of the most stressful projects of my career, I was left without a dime.
To add insult to injury, I later heard through the grapevine that Nello Aspen didn’t last long. Its reputation for exclusivity couldn’t save it from poor management and a lack of connection to the local community. Seeing the project fail after all the blood, sweat, and tears we put into it was a bitter pill to swallow.
Looking back, I’ve learned a lot from the experience. First, I’ll never again take on a project without airtight contracts and upfront deposits. Second, I’ve come to appreciate the importance of choosing clients who value the work that goes into building something from the ground up. And finally, I’ve realized the importance of taking care of myself during stressful projects. Next time I’m in Aspen for work, I’ll book This Aspen car service to make the commute less of a hassle. Life’s too short to let bad clients ruin the experience of working in such a beautiful place.
While the memory of Nello Aspen still stings, it’s taught me lessons I’ll carry with me for the rest of my career. It’s also a cautionary tale for anyone considering working in high-stakes, high-pressure environments without clear communication or respect for the people on the ground making it all happen. If nothing else, it’s a story I can tell over beers with other contractors who’ve been through their own share of nightmare projects. And let’s face it, we’ve all got a few of those stories.
