Confessions of a Hostie 3 (10 page)

Are we there yet?

I bet these passengers are going to be a
pain.

I've flown with the captain before; he's a
real piece of work.

I'm over this already.

Seriously, are we there yet?

These are sentences muttered before the
passengers have even boarded the aircraft.

Minutes into the flight she launches a tirade
of insults on the airline, the service, the passengers, and the
destination. I don't like listening to overly negative people; few
do.

An old saying goes: Misery loves company, but
company doesn't love misery.

I understand that everyone needs to vent at
some stage, but Wendy is relentless - and most of it is
unwarranted. I've made an early decision: I will stay as far away
from her as possible on the aircraft. In the confined spaces of a
plane that is easier said than done. I think the rest of the crew
have made the same decision, however Wendy has no idea, being
oblivious to our pain. She sneaks up from behind, backs you into a
corner, and then unleashes a verbal barrage of pessimism.

You can tell when someone is having a bad day
for whatever reason, but I think Wendy has more than just a bad day
going on. She is painful to the core - on a daily basis, I'd
bet.

When working with a negative person, like
Wendy, I'll often be more upbeat - not to cover that person's
gloom, but to prove a point.

One of my favorite (and hopefully funniest)
sayings is: I find that if you have a positive attitude it ticks
off enough people to make it worth the effort.

Every time I am near Wendy, I smile. When she
whines and complains, it goes in one ear and out the other -
instead I grin like a Cheshire cat. She doesn't know how to take
me. My ruse seems to be working as she complains less to me as the
flight goes on, preferring to irritate the other crew.

'Sorry other crew.'

I really like the rest of the crew,
especially one of the girls, Julia. She has flown for just a few
more years than me, but she is strong, independent, and takes no
nonsense from anyone - not even Wendy. When Wendy starts
complaining, being almost continuous, Julia just walks away. I have
noticed, the rest of the crew has noticed, yet Wendy is
oblivious.

I try to talk with Julia in the galley, but
it proves difficult. Wendy is a conversation killer. She listens to
our discussions with the sole intent to interrupt or disrupt - and
when she does, Julia walks away.

The hardest thing about being in a skinny
aluminum tube with a painful person like Wendy is: there is nowhere
to escape. I look over my shoulder to make sure she is not around
before starting what could be interesting dialogue with Julia or
the other crew and, before you know it, Wendy is leaning over my
shoulder.

Most crew talk about the claustrophobic
environment of working on a plane, usually referring to the
physicality of the job. I find it far more intrusive when we are
cornered emotionally.

In Wendy's words: Are we there yet?

When working in confined spaces for so many
hours at a time, it is inevitable there will be some personality
clashes. Fortunately the personalities like Wendy are the minority,
but when someone is negative it often impacts on everyone else. One
Wendy is bad enough, but I did a trip not long ago with three
Wendys. Of course Wendy was not their real names, but for the sake
of the story, Wendys it is. The truth be told, I tend to forget
these type of characters as quickly as I can, so remembering their
names is never a priority.

All the 'Wendys' were working down the back
of the plane with me. It had the makings of a perfect
negativity-storm. The onboard manager had flown with the girls
before, being smart enough to recognize there could be potential
problems. He very carefully orchestrated for none of the Wendys to
be working on a cart together. That meant one of the Wendys was
working with me. The manager pulled me aside to apologize for
changing the work positions. I knew why he did it - and he
recognized I knew. I was fine with it all.

Even though I was working on a cart with one
of the Wendys, the work throughout the aircraft relies heavily on
group teamwork. At the back of the plane we all interact regularly,
particularly in the confines of the galley. This is where teamwork
and spatial awareness are at a premium. Most passengers see the
crew out in the cabin, usually in pairs, handing out meals and
drinks from a cart, however the processes for getting everything
ready are intricate. The galleys are tiny, so add setting up carts
in or near the galley and it becomes a claustrophobic's nightmare.
Crew are constantly getting out of each other's way or in each
other's way; usually both.

The Wendy I worked with was tolerable
one-on-one, but putting her together with the other two Wendys
became painful. They fed off each other's negativity. It was like a
growing organism - the perfect storm was brewing.

The manager did everything within his power
to diffuse the ticking time bomb - with no success. Towards the end
of the flight, when everyone was tired and fatigued, the
predictable occurred - it all went pear-shaped.

Another saying goes: No one describes
themselves as much as they describe another.

Each Wendy bitched about the other Wendys.
Eventually the bitching went from nasty comments behind backs to
nasty comments to their face. I stayed away from it all.

It is very rare that I say anything in these
instances, however I said 'Sort it all out yourselves; we've still
another 13 hour flight to get through after this one.'

To the Wendys' credit, they took my advice.
The negativity did not cease, but at least the yelling did.

The Wendy on today's flight is not likely to
yell and scream (I hope), yet she has continued her pessimistic
outbursts. Fortunately she has no one to feed off; no one to fuel
the fire. The rest of the crew also ignore most of her comments.
That doesn't seem to stop her though. How could she not know? She
must have blinkers on.

I'm trying my hardest to not let Wendy get
under my skin. It is not easy. I take solace that in my job we work
with so many different people. I may not see this Wendy again for
months, if not years, if not ever. Imagine working in an office job
with someone like Wendy, day in, day out.

I shudder at the thought.

I survive my handful of hours with Wendy. If
having to work with a Wendy every now and then is the worst of my
troubles on a flight, then it is a good flight. Wendy aside, it was
a good flight. We arrive in Jakarta on-time and reasonably fresh.
It is early evening, local time. Julia is friends with several of
the crew working at the front of the aircraft.

When Wendy is not around, Julia whispers to
me 'A few of us are having drinks by the pool when we get in. Would
you like to join us? But keep it to yourself, we don't want a
certain you-know-who to know. God, hearing her on the plane for the
last seven hours is seven hours too long.'

I know exactly what Julia is talking about,
although I feel like a school kid being invited to one of the cool
kid's parties and sworn to secrecy from telling the not-so-cool
kids. Regardless, I don't want to hang out with Wendy socially
either.

'It sounds good, count me in' I whisper
back.

I had drinks by the pool on my last trip. God
knows how many times I've been poolside with a glass of wine during
my flying career, however I can't recall ever regretting the
decision.

Like many of the hotel pools, particularly in
Asia, this pool in our Jakarta hotel is magnificent.

As I don't know the other crew well, I arrive
poolside fashionably late. I am on-time or even early with most
things, but a single girl turning up to an empty bar is not really
a good look. There are occasions where this has happened, so I have
gone back to my room for ten minutes before returning. Sometimes
I've done this several times. Sometimes no one turns up.

Fortunately Julia and three other crew are
already seated with drinks in hand. There is no Wendy in sight.
With Julia are crew who worked at the front of the plane; two guys
and a girl. All are slightly older than me, relaxed, and
welcoming.

'We were just talking about Wendy Cranston'
says Julia.

I didn't know Wendy's last name until now. I
don't like Wendy, but I am hoping this gathering is not going to
turn into a bitching session. Everyone knows Wendy and from their
expressions, no one likes her.

'Poor Danielle has to work with that cow'
sympathizes Wendy.

To Julia's credit, she lets fly with just a
few expletives before offering to change the subject to: 'something
a little more pleasant.'

Everyone else is on the same page. I quickly
discover that none of the other crew wish to talk about onboard
events. They are all experienced, having been flying between 23 and
32 years - long enough not to be tempted into the trap of talking
about onboard procedural issues or dragged down by some of the
negatives of the job or some of the people around them.

These people love life. All are upbeat and
fun. No one dominates the conversation and no one is negative. Add
a few drinks to the mix and this is a night I wish would never end;
five of us having great conversation in a beautiful location.

We talk about things I rarely hear discussed,
including some of the funnier moments while away, particularly in
hotels. We spend half our lives in hotels within foreign countries.
Between us we have stayed thousands of nights in hundreds of hotels
across the globe; it is inevitable we have stories to tell.

The subject of being naked in a hotel foyer
or lobby came up. I am not sure how or why the topic was raised,
but I listen attentively. I know my friend Mary has two incidences
(that I know of) at the same hotel, where she ran around the foyer
buck naked after knocking on hotel doors. Her tirade was pill and
alcohol-induced. This time the crew are talking about accidently
being locked outside their room. To my surprise everyone had a
story, where it happened to a friend or to themselves.

One of the guys talked of a night in
Singapore where, in the early hours of the morning, he wandered
naked out onto the balcony to take in the view. Our hotel at that
time had great views. He was on a high floor, around 30 floors up,
so no one at street level was going to see him, and no other rooms
looked in either. To go outside naked is no big deal, the only
trouble is the sliding glass door to the balcony was self-closing.
It should not lock when it shuts, but in this instance it did. He
was locked out. All the glass is soundproofed, so as much as he
yelled, no one could hear him. At four in the morning the chances
of someone walking out onto their balcony in one of the rooms near
his was remote.

He stayed out on the balcony, naked, for
hours. It wasn't until nearly midday the next day, when he had
missed answering his mandatory wake-up call, that hotel security
opened the room to find the guy red-faced and naked on the balcony.
He laughed about the incident, although it could easily happen to
anyone. Singapore is on the equator so it is hot. Imagine being
stuck outside, naked or scantily dressed, in a northern European
city in winter? It sends shivers down my spine just thinking about
it.

One of the possible hotel scenarios which has
played on my mind is when placing something like a room service
tray outside the room, the door, which is usually heavy and
self-closing, slams shut. I keep one foot inside the door, just in
case, but I can see how easy it would be to be locked out of your
room. It happened to Julia.

Julia reveals she was wearing only a G-string
when a door slammed shut behind her, leaving her standing
near-naked in the hallway.

As she was telling the story I could just
imagine the panic Julia felt. When you are tired, jetlagged, and
possibly a little drunk, it can easily happen.

'What did you do?' I asked, anxious to find
out how she handled the situation.

Many of the hotels we stay have a hallway
phone on each floor, however Julia pointed out that there was no
phone at this hotel. The last thing she wanted to do was scramble
into an elevator and then waltz into the public view of the hotel's
lobby. Julia knew most of the hotels place crew in rooms within
close proximity of each other. It was early hours of the morning;
with the rooms either side of hers occupied, the
do not disturb
signs hanging over door knobs.
Julia thought back to when she checked-in to the hotel. She could
not recall anyone from her crew entering these rooms, but was
unsure.

She placed her ear against the first door,
hearing no noise from inside. She moved to the next door. This time
she could hear that the television was on. Julia took a deep
breath, covered one arm and hand over her breasts, and knocked on
the door. She stood back enough for whoever was on the other side
of the door to look through the peephole to see her standing there
red-faced, next-to-naked, and mouthing the word
help
.

'Is that you Julia?' said the voice of a very
surprised man.

He was crew, not from Julia's flight, but he
obviously knew her. How lucky was she?

He handed her a bath towel to then call
reception to have staff open her door for her.

Julia said she was so relieved she even
offered the crew member a sneak peak of her near-naked body as a
thank you.

'Had he been straight he would have accepted'
she reveals with a smile.

The other girl at poolside drinks is Anna.
She sympathized with Julia's story, revealing she too had gone
close to being locked out of her room on several occasions, but
adopted my strategy - narrowly avoiding the door fully closing by
placing a foot in the doorway. She tells of several occasions,
within her 32 years of flying, of hotel staff walking into her room
while she was in there. This has happened to me also. I make sure I
put out the
do not disturb
sign or,
in hotels with an electronic sign, I press the button indicating I
do not wish to be bothered. Occasionally these systems fail. I've
had other guests steal my doorknob sign, and once, with the
electronic sign, the small light-bulb which illuminates the
do not disturb
didn't work. I only
discovered this after a minibar attendant was in my room to check
the contents of my minibar. I was three hours into a four hour
sleeping-tablet-induced coma. I didn't even hear him come into the
room. It was only when he turned the lights on did we get the shock
of our lives.