I’m greeted at the end of my driveway by a man in black.

He tips his cap to me and grabs my small roller bag. “Good morning, Mr. David. Traffic is light today, so it looks like we’ll make your United flight in plenty of time.” Then, he opens the back door of his black Cadillac and whisks me off to the airport where I board my flight and settle into a “Premier Class” seat. “Seat” is an understatement. “Small room” is more like it. The seat itself reclines fully and transforms into a bed. Every comfort is provided free of charge including a care package complete with sleep mask, headphones, and a toothbrush. And the food is fantastic.

Upon landing, there is another man in black holding a sign with my name on it. I settle into the black leather seats and he checks his tablet. “I have you going to the Montage in Beverly Hills today?”

“Well, I can’t complain about that,” I reply as I dive into the light refreshments he has waiting for me. I plug in my phone and catch up on some email.

A short while later, we’re pulling into the brick circle driveway of the Montage. At this point, a bellhop rushes to open my door and take my bags. His welcoming smile and cheerful greeting feel like tip-hunting overkill. Besides, it’s only one roller-bag.

Tim David is just a stage name, so at the front desk I use a copy of my book as a photo ID. The attendant gets a kick out of that and she swipes my card. This is just for incidentals, of course, as my room is being direct-billed to the sponsor.

I’m handed two key cards, the WiFi password, two bottles of spring water, two drink tickets for the welcome reception, and an event schedule. I take the elevator to my luxury suite, unpack, and order room service.

I review my slides for the next morning’s presentation and check in with my contact to let him know I’ve arrived at the hotel. I snap a photo of the Hollywood sign from my oversized balcony, do a live stream video for a small group of fans who enjoy “traveling” with me, and after my food arrives, I settle in for a productive writing session.

The next morning, I walk down to the meeting facility for A/V check. After breakfast, I deliver the opening keynote, sign some books, pose for some photos, and collect some business cards. Then I’m done. The process reverses itself and I’m dropped off at my doorstep about 36 hours older and $20,000 richer. The next day, I get an email from my agent saying that they just rebooked me for their New York conference coming up in a few months.

Even though this happens on a monthly basis, I still feel like I hit the lottery every time.