Confessions of a Hostie 3 (15 page)

While I am out in the cabin I see the
silhouette of Wendy getting up from her seat to walk to the
toilets. She has her back to me, thus does not know I am watching.
Wendy made the presumption none of the crew would notice her,
however she presumed wrong. She still has a limp, but only a slight
one. The way she carried on earlier, when she stood up from the
wheelchair, you would have sworn she had a broken leg. A few hours
later and Wendy is scooting down the aircraft aisle quicker than my
76 year-old aunty.

Predictably, Wendy's 'bad leg' must have
worsened during the flight as when the plane lands she hops to the
waiting wheelchair, grimacing in pain as she sits in the chair.
Wendy looks refreshed. The rest of the crew look like we've stepped
out of a train wreck, having the night from hell. When flights are
full it is often a struggle to keep pace with the demands. Take
away a crew member and it can be mayhem.

Most airlines and flights disembark
wheelchair passengers last, as is the case, in theory, today. Wendy
is not the last passenger off the plane. By the way, we are only
paid until the plane pulls up at the aerobridge. Should we spend
extra time on the plane, as we do, it is on our own time. The job
is not about money, but most passengers don't realize that many of
the delays and extra duties we do, particularly after we have
landed, are considered 'after work duties'.

Regardless, crew are obliging with
special-needs passengers, particularly those requiring wheelchairs,
the elderly, and mothers with babies. What makes our blood boil is
waiting for someone so oblivious to the world around them that they
hold up the entire crew. That person today is none other than our
'resident aisle woman'.

Let me also point out that it is not just the
current crew impacted by this woman's actions - or lack of actions
- there is a flow-on effect. This aircraft is being turned around
to operate to the next destination. We are already late - the clock
is ticking - cleaners, caterers, and an engineer are all waiting to
come onboard before the new crew and then ultimately the new
passengers can start boarding. Now everyone is waiting on one
person - and that one person is no hurry at all.

She waited until last so the crew could get
her bag down from the overhead locker. This is the same bag she
took down herself - at least a dozen times. When the crew member
did get it down for her, with that person being me, she insists on
checking everything in her bag is in place. She then starts
checking the seat pocket in front of her.

Julia walks up the aisle... if looks could
kill, this woman's funeral would be in three days' time.

Julia cannot hold her tongue, yet uses humor
to mask her absolute distain for this woman:

'Did you know that the last person left on
the plane has to clean it?'

It is water off a duck's back.

Julia's patience is exhausted - no more humor
- no more compassion. Just as Julia is ready to put a bomb under
this woman, I step in.

'Ma'am, the crew cannot leave the aircraft
until everyone is off. To assist you I will take your bag to the
front door. If you require further assistance, the ground-staff
will help you there.'

I take a deep breath and count. Another 22
seconds elapse before she finally moves. Twenty two seconds is not
a long time, but when she has been dawdling for at least five
minutes more than any other passenger, it is excruciatingly
lengthy.

Cleaning staff line the aerobridge in
readiness. A millisecond after the woman leaves, the ground staff
swoop. When the crew finally take our first step from aircraft, we
let out a collective
sigh
of
relief. I've said my goodbyes to the rest of the crew, except
Wendy. I'm normally the first to offer help with crew who might
need a hand, but not this time. Wendy is out of sight and out of
mind. I scurry away from the plane with nothing but thoughts of
getting home.

Arriving at my apartment, I feel a wave of
calmness wash over me. Outside of other flyers, I spend less time
at home than anyone else I know. That's why I appreciate it so
much. When tired and worn-out, nothing is more soothing than a long
shower in my own home. There are not many jobs where you work such
long days to then shower, dry off, and then jump straight into bed.
Add jetlag, oxygen deprivation, and working in a pressurized tube
racing across the skies at speed and it's understandable why
sometimes my head hits the pillow with the force of a
sledgehammer.

The next day Dean and I meet for lunch. I
rarely talk about the intricacies of my work, however the last time
I went to Jakarta Dean came with me. Being familiar with the trip
and destination, he wants to know what I did there. He can see I've
had a haircut and presumes (correctly) that I had a massage (or
two). I tell of Wendy's fall at the massage place, forcing us to
work home with one less crew. Dean has watched me work, knowing how
demanding the job can be; there is no need to elaborate.

Having a supportive partner is essential in
my occupation. I guess it is the same with any job - with any
couple, although my lifestyle is a little different than most. I am
away so much; sometimes I can barely function when I return home.
Dean has seen firsthand the demands of my vocation. He does not
profess to fully understand, nor should he, but he is
empathetic.

I give Dean the small gifts bought in Jakarta
- three pairs of Ray-ban sunglasses, two Hugo Boss, a Burberry, and
Lacoste polo shirts. The time consumed buying them and the amount
of money spent is embarrassingly miniscule compared to Dean's
appreciation. I love to shop, it is my pleasure, I tell him.

I also bought a few other items for friends
and family. Again, the cost was little. I found the cutest
clutch-bag for Helen. She did not ask for anything; good friends
rarely do. I'll give it to her later in the day when we meet for
coffee.

I only have less than 48 hours at home before
my next trip. Unpacking becomes repacking. I take out my Jakarta
clothes to replace with a new wardrobe for my next trip, being to
South Africa. I place the dirty clothes in my washing machine,
changing thoughts from the trip just done, to pack clean clothes
with thoughts of the trip I'm about to do. After so long in this
job, one trip tends to run into the next. The dramas and hard work
of the last trip are quickly forgotten. A new adventure
beckons.

I meet with Helen for our obligatory coffee
and a chat. She loves the clutch-bag. I knew she would. I tell her
my 'Wendy story'. She has heard many Wendy stories. The great thing
about having a true friend like Helen is she not only listens, she
sympathizes. It works both ways as Helen shares the trials and
tribulations of her family life. Mine is not the only life being a
rollercoaster of events and emotions. It is easy to become overly
self-indulged. Thanks to family and friends like Helen, I'd like to
think I stay grounded - if you will excuse the
grounded
pun.

Helen would love to come away on another trip
with me, but her eldest child is a bit of a handful at the moment.
Helen recognizes she needs to spend more time with him, being in
the fortunate position that she can.

I often think that flight attendants with
families live a strange life. It must be difficult juggling a
family while spending more than half their life away. I've talked
with Dean's brother Danny about his life with a wife and children.
He admits the lifestyle is hard on his family. It is equally as
hard on himself. He has missed birthdays, Christmases, Easters, the
children's first days at school, concert recitals, sporting events,
when the kids have been sick, parent-teacher nights, and, as he
says 'the list goes on and on'.

A redeeming feature of our job and our
airline is we have a seniority driven bidding system for our
rosters, our trips. The longer we've been flying, the more likely
we are to get specific days off. Danny's been flying a tad less
than me, yet even though he is approaching 20 years flying there
are no guarantees. I'm the same. I do get the occasional Christmas
off these days, whereas for the first dozen or so years of flying I
was either in a different country or in the air for Christmas.

Our rosters and trips are bid for in advance.
Days off, like Christmas, can be planned for, but when last-minute
or short-notice events come up, it's a lottery. Usually those odds
aren't good.

For someone with a family, like Danny, the
days at home are most important. He prioritizes his family time
first. We have the ability, at times, to swap trips. I've told
Danny I will swap at any time to accommodate being home with his
family for important events. He is appreciative, but has yet to
take up the offer.

Flight attendants generally have more sick
days allocated than the average occupation; that's because we get
genuinely physically fatigued and sick more than most jobs. We are
in foreign countries, often third-world, staying in large, polluted
cities in hotels with sometimes no way to open a window. We deal
with thousands of people weekly in a sealed aluminum tube with
recycled bugs floating around everywhere. You can see why we get
sick more often than most.

There is always going to be those who abuse
the system, to take days off work when it suits, although it is not
an easy thing to do. We need to provide a medical certificate to
prove our illness. That is fair enough.

I'm a goody-two-shoes. I won't wrought the
system. The closest I've ever been to taking days off without a
legitimate reason was when my aunty passed away and I wanted to go
to the funeral. My company has compassionate leave days available
for immediate family, but did not classify my aunt as immediate
family. I had just come back from a long trip, feeling jetlagged
and tired anyway.

I visited my local doctor. Without prompting,
the doctor discovered I had blocked ears and a throat infection
(severe upper respiratory tract infection), insisting I take four
days off work. To be honest, I was shocked. Needless to say, I went
to the funeral.

Another hostie I know had felt unwell for
some time. She thought she may have had a mild cold, not feeling
good, yet being well enough to go to work. She explained that she
wasn't coughing or sneezing, being confident she was not
contagious. Her doctor agreed.

She did three or four long trips, not being
able to shake the persistent and niggling cold. She visited the
doctor again with the same diagnosis, so she thought she would do
one more trip. If she did not feel better after this trip she would
insist on having some time off work to fully recover. While away,
in Bangkok, she fell in a heap. It turned out she had fluid on her
lungs - and a lot. She ended up hospitalized, spending over three
weeks grounded in Thailand as doctors would not allow her to
fly.

She had no medical history or preexisting
ailment. It was purely a case of being slightly unwell, not having
the chance to recover, and continuing to place her body under
stress. The accumulative effects of those additional flights caused
her body to shut down.

I have talked with numerous flight attendants
having similar experiences. Most did not become hospitalized, yet
I've heard some harrowing stories. Our bodies are subjected to many
stresses and conditions foreign to ground-based workers. It is not
always easy to recognize what is wrong, if indeed there is
anything. As my experience of going to the doctor to be diagnosed
with a severe upper respiratory tract infection when I merely
thought I had jetlag showed, we can never be too careful. In saying
that, I love my job and lifestyle; I only take days off when I am
genuinely feeling unwell and I always make sure I have a doctor's
certificate.

Dean is a G.P and also Danny's brother, yet
neither Danny nor I, when sick, go to him for medical certificates.
It could be seen as a conflict of interest by our airline. It
shouldn't, but sometimes it is best to air on the side of
caution.

Another flying friend of mine has a brother
who is a doctor. She always went to him for medical certificates.
One day she was called into our company's office. I remember her
telling me how furious she was. The company kept saying that the
name on the medical certificate was the same last name as the
flight attendants'.

'So what' she said.

'Is it a family member?' they asked.

She would not answer, explaining that the
doctor in question was qualified and followed all codes of ethics
as set out by the medical association.

'What's the doctor's last name got to do with
anything?' she added.

She was livid. Obviously one or more people
in the company are employed just to check crew medical
certificates, thus she was called in to explain hers. She said that
questioning the authenticity of a medical certificate was
questioning the authority of a doctor.

'Are you a medical practitioner?' she asked
the company investigator.

When the person said 'no', she stood up and
walked out.

She never heard another word from the company
about it.

Most airlines will deny the crew are subject
to excessive health stresses. I've had some great discussions with
Dean about this. Our airline, and most airlines, have their own
aviation doctors; medical practitioners with additional training in
aviation-related illnesses and issues. That is like telling a
trapeze artist that it is impossible for them to fall, yet putting
a safety net under them anyway. Of course crew suffer unique health
issues, thus the specialist doctors.

Very few jobs would have no safety or health
concerns, yet flying around the world, closer to the sun, in a
pressurized aluminum tube with only about two-thirds the oxygen
available, compared to being on the ground, has to create some
distinctive physical issues - and it is accumulative.