Confessions of a Hostie 3 Read online

  I must say that this scenario is rare, yet it does highlight some of the unique and incredibly taxing situations we face in this job.

  I am thankful for having a roster at present. I'm looking forward to going to Singapore. The first 28 times I went to Singapore I would say to myself 'Yah - I'm off to Singapore.' I still love Singapore, but I have been so many times there is a certain familiarity which prevents me from doing cartwheels. I still get out and explore from time-to-time, however what was once greeted with unrestrained excitement is now dulled to a smile of complacency. I really haven't done anything exciting in Singapore (apart from shopping) for such a long time. I make a conscious effort to do something worthwhile on this trip.

  Maybe I'll catch the cable car over to Sentosa Island (again)?

  I could do a river boat cruise (again)?

  I could catch a ferry to Bintan or Batam (Indonesian islands about an hour by ferry from Singapore), but once again I have been a number of times.

  Maybe I'll go to the top of the new Marina Sands hotel to have a cocktail by the infinity pool, 57 stories above the ground (again)?

  I might even go to Universal Studios (again).

  I think of more options. It's been years since I've been to the zoo and had breakfast with the orangutans. That was so much fun last time, which was, gee, nearly ten years ago.

  That's what I'll do - I'll go to the zoo.

  The day before a trip I usually put some thought and effort into packing for the trip. After years of practice I am an extremely quick packer, yet I still plan ahead. I normally jump on the Internet to check the weather forecast for the country I am going to, although I am going to Singapore. Singapore is on the equator - I already know it is going to be hot with late thunderstorms. I check anyway: hot with late thunderstorms it is.

  I always have a little raincoat packed. It is a tad more upmarket than a simple plastic sheet, but the great thing about my raincoat is, when not in use, it scrunches up to the size of a tennis ball. Being a seasoned shopper I have so many clothes. I am always wearing new clothes, yet I only have one little raincoat - and I've had it for at least a dozen years.

  My raincoat and I have some great memories together:

  On a windy Rome day we were sprayed by the Trevi Fountain's water. We were soaked while in a boat under roaring waterfalls at Iguazu Falls on the Argentina-Brazil border. We walked the sodden streets of Paris in a summer storm, battled our way to the shops in a typhoon in Hong Kong, and were hit by hail in Dallas, Texas. We trudged through Poland's infamous Austerlitz Concentration Camp on an appropriately wretched day, we strolled sections of the Great Wall of China on several days of varying weather patterns, we were smashed by a massive storm while yachting on Sydney Harbour, and were covered in fog, mist, and rain while walking blindly around the cliffs of Old Head of Kinsale, Ireland. We were caught in a tropical storm whilst trekking elephants in the wilds of Africa, we plodded through flooded streets in Bangkok, and we danced in the rain in vineyards on the Rhine in Rudesheim, Germany.

  I love my little raincoat.

  Over the years the flying has changed. I tend to do more single destination trips than I once did, where we fly to one city, have a layover, and then fly home. I have talked with hosties from other airlines, and although rosters and flying vary from airline to airline, it would seem a continuing trend. I still do multi-sector trips, as well as shorter shuttles, often to and from the overseas layover port we are staying, but more and more trips are just to the one destination. It also means I am away for less time than I was, however going to work more often. It is the changing face of the airline industry. We crew adjust.

  I am happier to do four or five day trips than be away for a fortnight. It allows some resemblance of a life at home. The jetlag becomes a continuing issue, yet these days I have a better chance of remembering what the color of my bedcover is. It is what it is, but my bedcover is pastel pink - I think?

  I pack for my Singapore trip. It doesn't take long. My little raincoat is a permanent suitcase item, as too my away toiletries bag, my away medical supplies bag, a universal travel adaptor, and a wine bottle opener. If my little raincoat has fond memories, my bottle opener has more. I doubt drinking wine will be on the agenda this trip... but you never know?

  now listen here...

  Most of the crew on my Singapore trip are older and more senior flying-wise than me. The oldest is a lady named Kathy, with 40 years of flying experience. I cannot begin to imagine being a hostie for 40 years. Funnily, in my 20 years I have never met Kathy. She is obviously in her sixties and should look like a typical grandmother or a long lost aunt, yet she doesn't. She is vibrant, energetic, and simply lovely. I am instantly drawn to her calmness and demeanor. When the work positions are allotted I discover I'll be working down the back of the aircraft on a cart with Kathy. I am really looking forward to it.

  The flight to Singapore is about as relaxed and as easy as it gets. There are plenty of spare seats and very few passengers stand out as being potential problems. Both Kathy and I have a rare commodity on an aircraft: time. We don't need to rush, having time to enjoy the service and the passengers. Seldom do we get that chance. Most times the crew are so frantically busy we bark 'Chicken or beef?' to dispense the meal onto the passenger's tray table with the speed of superman. It is not the ideal way to do it, yet the necessary way.

  With hundreds of impatient passengers to serve, on most flights, it just isn't humanly possible to be chatty and relaxed with everyone. I know from experience that if I were to slow down, take my time, and serve five passengers deliberately and efficiently, the sixth passenger would complain that the meal has taken too long to get to them, the fourteenth would complain that their meal wasn't hot enough, and the eighteenth that their meal was cold. Then we would have to go through the 'I've been waiting for 40 minutes for you to collect my tray' procedure when we collected the dirty trays... or worse.

  Some passengers dump their dirty trays wherever they see fit - on door bustles, spare seats, crew seats, and even on the floor. Could you imagine being in a restaurant and someone places their dirty plate on the floor? I know aircrafts aren't exactly five-star restaurants, yet the thought of dumping a used tray and meal on the floor is beyond my comprehension. As far as trays being placed on door bustles and crew seats, I'll address my thoughts about that with this little story: While on a cart, collecting dirty passenger trays, during a flight from a certain Asian destination, we had sudden turbulence. The seatbelt sign came on accompanied by an announcement from the flight-deck informing the passengers and crew to sit down immediately. When the word immediately is used on an aircraft, it means just that: sit down and strap in immediately.

  I was close to a crew jump seat, so we locked the brake on the cart, leaving it in the aisle, and I headed toward that nearest jump seat. The turbulence was already quite severe, so making my way down the aisle was no easy affair. When I arrived at the seat I discovered three dirty trays piled where I needed to it. In addition, the door bustle beside the seat was stacked high with trays. I had no choice but to try and place the trays left on my seat onto the floor and strap myself in. With the shaking aircraft, the act of placing the trays on the floor was more like throwing.

  Safety, including my safety, is always the number one priority, although I knew the mess now at my feet will need to be cleaned up by someone - and that someone would be me. Adding to my woes were the trays on the door bustle. The turbulence was such that the aircraft shuddered in a side-to-side motion. Most of the trays fell off the bustle and onto the floor; right beside me. Some of the trays fell on me. Half full coffee cups splashed stale coffee up my legs and scraps of food littered the floor, my lap, and my feet.

  I was angry.

  When the seatbelt sign finally turned off I leant down to begin picking up trays. It was obvious which passengers had dumped them as they were the ones with an empty tray table in front of them. Some of these passengers did not speak English; it mattered little as
my expression relayed exactly what I was thinking. I calmly placed the trays back on each of the vacant empty tray tables. It didn't matter whose tray it originally was. I then picked up the strewn individual components to put on each tray. I returned to the galley to retrieve a dustpan, broom, and a bag to put all the scraps in.

  While I was on my hands and knees cleaning and scrubbing, one of the passengers, to whom I'd returned a tray, leaned over the top of me in an attempt to place the tray back on the door bustle. I can't remember my exact words, but I did not swear - well, not out loud anyway.

  If it is not already apparent, my pet hate is trays being placed on the floor - often in areas which may cause a safety hazard to the crew or other passengers. The selfishness and irresponsibility of these actions is inexcusable. When I tell Helen of passengers doing this, she too is dumbfounded.

  'Does it happen very often?' she once asked.

  It shouldn't, but it does.

  I once slipped on a tray placed in the aisle, so I am particularly cautious and equally frustrated by the scenario.

  Here's a tip for that .1% who deem themselves more important than the other passengers and MUST have their tray removed immediately after use: Place it on the floor under YOUR OWN feet, then turn on your laptop or do whatever you need to do on your tray table. When the crew come collecting, simply pick up the dirty tray and pass it your flight attendant.

  It's that easy.

  I have some revelations for those who think airline service is slow: I don't know one flight attendant in the history of aviation who has deliberately given slow service. It is the opposite. We go as fast as we possibly can, given the tools, the preparation, the safety, the resources, and the procedures we have to work with.

  The airline times the service events before they are ever implemented. This is done in a virtual world; a world based on theory. In their laboratory-conditions there are no screaming babies, no passengers complaining about their seats, no hosties being tugged on their dresses every twelve paces to be asked for drinks, no adjusting air-vents, no fixing inflight entertainment systems, no replacing broken headsets, no turning on reading lights, and no demands for newspapers, magazines, extra blankets, pillows, headache tablets, and a partridge in a pear tree.

  The questions passengers ask are often fired from a question-asking machine-gun at deadly speed.

  Habitually it is the most inane questions which are asked at the most inappropriate times.

  'Excuse me Miss, can I get another arrival (immigration) card?' is usually asked when the seatbelt sign has been turned on with me walking back to my seat for landing.

  I feel like saying 'Oh, I'm sorry; didn't we hand you an immigration card, what 12 hours ago, and although you have had half a day to fill it out, you do it now - and stuff it up - right when we are about to land?'

  By the way, from my understanding about immigration and customs forms, they are not the responsibility of airlines. They are a country-to-country requirement legislating an agreement between the visitor or citizen and that country. Airlines hand out documents and assist with tips on how to fill them out as a nicety, not a legal requirement.

  On several occasions I have been abused by passengers because we had run out of immigration forms onboard. This was because customs officials in the departure port, not our airline, did not have enough forms at the time to give us. In one instance a passenger had made a mistake with their paperwork and, true to form, asked for another just before landing. When I said we had no more (which we didn't) the passenger became abusive. In times like that I would love to have a printed card I could hand to the passenger. It would read: Now listen here...

  for some, knowledge comes and goes, but wisdom lasts forever

  Today's flight to Singapore is going so smoothly. I've chatted with a number of passengers. So much of our time is normally taken up with problems. Sometimes they are genuine problems; sometimes the problems lie fairly and squarely with the passengers. The most annoyed I ever get on the aircraft is when passengers become so self-centered that their actions affect other people.

  Am I judgmental?

  'No way; I'm only judgmental to those who deserve it.'

  I say this statement with my tongue firmly implanted in my cheek. Like most jokes, there is often an element of truth behind the laughter. I am judgmental. Experience has armed me with the tools to identify those I like, those I don't, and those to be wary of. We can't like everyone, however part of my job is to try to mask any ill-feelings. Acting skills are a key component of the hospitality industry. I'd like to think I can identify passengers with genuine problems and deficiencies. I would never knowingly ridicule someone who cannot help who they are or what they are doing. Those who have a choice, and choose to be disrespectful to others, well then, in my eyes it's open season.

  If a passenger pops sleeping pills to wash them down with alcohol with the inevitable consequences, then it's open season. If a passenger is so rude they upset everyone in the vicinity, then it's open season. If they put a meal tray on the floor, putting crew and other passengers at risk of injury, then it's open season.

  It is not just on the plane; I see acts worthy of 'open season' everywhere: If someone takes 105 items into the supermarket's cashier lane clearly signed eight items or less, then it's open season. If someone spits in the street, queue jumps, is racially or sexually inappropriate, swears in front of children...

  Societies have rules. Airlines have rules. Not every one of those rules, if broken, is going to have someone end up in a prison cell, yet there are certain guidelines and manners which should be afforded to our fellow man.

  A friend of mine once told her boyfriend: Treat me with respect and I will be your friend forever; disrespect me and I will annihilate your world.

  I am a strong, independent woman; I make no apologies for that. If I have an opinion I will give it. I joke that the only time I am helpless is when my nails are drying, yet the rest of the time I am primed and dangerous. Most of my fellow female hosties are independent women. They need to be; it is a physically and emotionally-demanding job and lifestyle. That is one of the reasons I am enjoying my conversations so much with Kathy. I don't see a 65 year-old woman wearing a little too much make-up to cover her wrinkles. I see a vibrant woman full of life, a woman with a strong sense of where she has been and where she is going.

  To share in someone's wisdom is more educational than sharing in someone's life. Most people talk about what they want and what they do. I can be one of those people. I wish I wasn't. Kathy talks about what she has learned and how she is enjoying life more because of that knowledge.

  We should all be more like Kathy. I know I should be.

  She's been doing this, sometimes monotonous job, for 40 years and yet I have not heard her complain once. I don't need to ask if she enjoys the job because I can already tell she does. She is highly intelligent and not intimidated by the workload. This flight is stress-free and easy. Even so, I can tell if someone is lazy or not. Kathy is hard working.

  Sometimes I work with crew with some type of physical issue. They'll usually tell you - some sooner than later. Occasionally someone has a legitimate physical injury or restriction limiting their ability to work in the cabin. It cannot be major or debilitating. Ours is a physical job: there are heavy weights to lift, lots of bending and stretching, much pushing and pulling, and constant walking (and running) - all in an oxygen-starved piece of metal hurtling along on an angle to make every step feel like you are walking up a mountain. I hear so many twenty-something new recruits complain about the physical burdens of the job, yet Kathy, being 40 years their senior, says nothing.

  I really like her.

  I tell Kathy of my plans for the following morning; breakfast with the orangutans at Singapore Zoo.

  'I haven't been to the zoo for, well, it would be 20 years' she says, 'and I have never had breakfast with the orangutans. Are you thinking of going on your own?'

  In a heartbeat I invite Kathy to join me
in.

  Several crew talk of having a drink by the pool after we arrive at the hotel in Singapore. To my surprise Kathy is one of the first to accept. It takes little persuasion for me to also say yes. It is not so much about the drinking, but the chance to unwind, to be social, and to spend time with someone intelligent and wise.

  I don't drink much, however I drink often. It is a lifestyle attracting sociable people. We don't have to drink, yet most of us do. As office workers often get together over a few drinks at the end of a long week, we too get together after an arduous day. We are at a nice hotel with a superb pool area and, as crew, we get discounted drinks. It is understandable why many airline crew, after work, have either a cold beer or a glass of wine in hand. When drinking in our hotel we don't have to drive anywhere, being only a short stagger from our beds. It is a perfect drinker's storm - or should that be: a drinker's perfect storm? Either way, we are having drinks as we so often do - yippee.

  The drinks, the people, and the location by the pool are awesome. There is so soothing looking at water. Five of the crew turn up, which is not a bad turnout for a mature crew. Kathy is again delightful. She is not shy, yet she is not one to dominate conversations. She has much wisdom and experience, however I get the feeling she wants to learn much more. She listens intently to others, occasionally asking questions; not inane silly questions, but questions which help a conversation - not kill it.