Why can't I? Ch 3

"You can cancel the main for 8D.  He's calling it a night.", Scott said as he rounded the corner into the galley.  8E had long since withdrawn from the service and surrendered to slumber, now that all of the drama and uncertainty of our rolling delay and aircraft swap were behind us.  At this point, their holiday plans were hinging on whether or not Captain Hill could make good on his promise to "fly the paint off of this bird" and get us to AMS quickly.

Our 1545 scheduled departure had morphed into an actual time of 1815; significantly tardy but well done, all things considered.  The not-knowing is what really ramps up anxieties:  can we/can't we, will we/won't we, should we/shouldn't we.  Of course, anxiety therapy is the REAL job of the 21st century airline professional.  Our marketing department is quite successful in raising our customers' expectations to spectacularly unrealistic heights.  Then we, in the operation, are tasked with tempering and managing those expectations, in light of the realities of machinery, weather, political instability, global terrorism, etc.

How do cogent, successful human beings become so detached from reality anyway?  Are we really so susceptible to the outrageousness of hype?  We WANT to believe that the implausible is possible.

At breakfast time, the atmosphere in the cabin was perceptibly "lighter".  Captain Hill was able to fulfill his speed commitment and it looked as though we would be arriving at 0915lcl, only about an hour past our scheduled arrival.  After service, when everything was buttoned up for landing, I put on my jacket to say good-bye to our guests.

"It was our pleasure to serve you today.  I hope that everything was satisfactory and that we'll see you again soon.  Thank you for flying UNITED."  The folks seldom have much to say after the short night's rest but feedback this morning was positive.  "Nice job."  "This could have been so much worse."  "Wow, how did we make up so much time?"

When I arrived at row 8, I wasn't sure what to expect.  Both D and E had been unconscious most of the flight. Now was the time for the opera anxiety to ramp up again, in light of their planned connection.  8D was smiling and gracious, as one might expect.  But, other than when expressing outright anger, 8E has one of those "neutral" faces that is almost impossible to read.  Who knew what was going on behind those intense eyes?

"Gentlemen, have you consulted united.com about our progress?"  8D, "Yes.  It's almost unbelievable that we're only an hour late.  It looks like we might make it to VIE in time, after all."  "Wonderful.  I'm sure that our GS Representatives in AMS will be waiting for you.  Thanks for your patience and thanks so much for continuing to choose UNITED."

8E, "I wasn't confident in our chances.  You guys really pulled it off tonight.  I want to apologize..." as he extended his hand.  "Mr 8E, I certainly understand.  I didn't take it personally.  Your plans were aggressive; maybe too aggressive.  But it looks like you'll be able to enjoy Der Rozenkavalier, as planned."

A light conversation about the plans that Philip and I had made ensued.  We landed.  Rene, our top-notch GS Rep in AMS took over and, I assume, they all lived happily ever after.  I haven't heard anything to the contrary.

Philip and I did NOT get to Lohengrin, as we'd planned.  Oh well, it's the nature of the business, isn't it?  Instead, we enjoyed a nice supper at a favorite Asian restaurant and a nice stroll, ending up at Grand Hotel Amrath-Amsterdam, an Art Nouveau confection of a building whose history is as fascinating as its architecture and decoration.  But that's another chapter...

In retrospect, as disastrous as this overall scenario must sound, the pieces of the operations puzzle seemed to come together as designed:

Issue:  Rolling delay over a seemingly minor MX issue.  Resolution:  Timely, calming, informative announcements and appropriate crew presence in the cabin allay growing anxiety.

Issue:  MX issue unresolvable.  Resolution:  Replacement aircraft available and ready for crew and customers, already cleaned.  Re-catering accomplished in a timely and competent manner.

Issue:  Customer uncertainty and anxiety.  Resolution:  Again, the announcements were of great help.  Each department handled its component of the irregularity efficiently and in a customer-friendly way.  Both aircraft were WiFi-equipped, so customers could track our progress inflight in real time.

Issue:  Unreasonable expectations (our stock-and-trade)  Resolution:  Calm, confidence, poise, tact and timing.

The End?

Why can't I? Ch 2

"So, what does the GS Desk know that we don't?", he asked. I was thinking exactly the same thing. Our situation must be a little graver than we'd been told. I reassured them both that I'd let them know right away if I learned anything more and quickly finished my welcomes in the rest of the cabin, offering follow-up drinks as I went. (This, too, became an issue as the pre-departure kit had been removed and our liquor was still in bond. Ugh.)

When I returned to the galley, I noticed that a water service had been started in UE. Then Scott, the ISM, stuck his head around the corner and said we should get all of our catering supplies back into the original carts and carriers. It looked as though we would be doing an a/c swap. I began doing just that, fully intending to return to 8D and E to let them know the latest when...

"Ladies and Gentlemen, this is the Captain..."

We were on an aircraft parked at E4. There was another 777 waiting, already cleaned, at E18. Despite 30 years of previous experience to the contrary, what I observed was one of the most orderly and timely widebody aircraft swaps possible. The caterers did an excellent job of quickly, carefully moving our prepped supplies (I didn't lose a drop of milk from either of the 1/3-full cream pitchers!), customers methodically made their way between birds, and the crew was allowed onboard the new plane almost as soon as we arrived at the gate. That NEVER happens!

As we approached E18, I saw 8D and E standing in the Group 1 queue. I tempted fate and walked over, "This is going as smoothly as I've ever seen, gentlemen. I am cautiously optimistic about your chances." 8D smiled, of course. You can imagine the look on 8E! I asked, "May I ask what you have plans to see tonight?"

This is when 8E really surprised me. He turned and had immediate diarrhea of the mouth! "Der Rosenkavalier by Strauss. Curtain is at 2000..." He went on and on about how they'd looked forward to it, how they'd booked and paid online and were continuing an annual tradition of a different opera in a different city each year, etc, etc. I listened as my crew filed past to go onboard. When I had a chance, I mentioned that my partner, Philip, and I were doing practically the same thing in AMS in an annual tradition of our own. "We were planning to see Wagner's Lohengrin but didn't pre-purchase the tickets becasue we didn't want to take a chance..."

The look on his face was priceless. He went from angry to "I knew I shouldn't have been so impetuous.." in a split-second. That was my chance!

"Try not to beat yourself up about it. We're making good progress here. Looks like we might not be as late as we thought!" All the while I was thinking, "Who in their right mind would book and pay for something important and expensive scheduled within a few hours after an arrival from an international CONNECTION?!"

"Well, I'll see you onboard in a few minutes." With that, 8E smiled. It wasn't a big, all-is-well-with-the-world-smile, but it was a good start.

To be continued...

"I can't do that..." Ch 1

"There's no way I could ever/would ever do that!"  How many times has that thought crossed my mind when someone has suggested I try some new concept or approach at work?  We get into our routine, into our comfort zone and it becomes very easy to say, "I can't".

Over the last few years, I've been making a more conscious effort to get OUT of my comfort zone.  The more common question for me these days is, "why can't I?"  If you've followed me for a while, you've read about some of my little theories and experiments; some more successful than others.  But the underlying theme is always, "Make our customer feel welcome and valued in the first few minutes and the rest will be easy."

That's a little easier said than done from the B-zone galley of a 777!  Working that position successfully is all about planning and setup.  The key preparations are accomplished during that critical first few minutes of customer arrival onboard.  It's generally unlikely that the B-zone galley Flight Attendant would ever have much face-to-face interaction with customers but especially not during boarding.  Besides, there are 2 Flight Attendants in the aisle whose express purpose is to get folks settled in.  Who needs a third?

A week ago, as our crew gathered for the departure of flight 58 to AMS on our Thanksgiving 5-day trip, I noticed two very nattily dressed gentlemen approach the gate podium, looking anxious and excited.  They consulted with the agent and took spots in the queue for Boarding Group 1.  (Our plane had arrived on-time but was still being cleaned and catered.)  Something about their appearance and energy told me that it wouldn't be the last time I'd see them that afternoon and evening.  I was right.  They were seated in 8D and E, B-zone front and center.

Once the lion's share of boarding was complete, we learned that a seemingly minor maintenance item on one of the cargo doors would likely delay departure for up to 30 minutes.  That lessened my own anxiety level because it meant I would have more time to get things in order.  But as often happens, the "update in 10 minutes" proved not to be promising.  Since most of my tasks were complete already, I put on my jacket and set out to say "hello" to our customers.

When I work premium galley, I'm actually able to do this about 20-30% of the time, circumstances allowing.  "Hi, my name is Tony and I'm the Flight Attendant that you won't be seeing very much this evening.  I'll be working for you in the galley.  If there's anything special that I can do for you, please let me know.  I'm happy to do what I can."  The responses I get can be interesting:  a smile, a laugh, a "thank you" are the most common.  8D and 8E surprised me.

8D was so gracious, his body language was relaxed, he had a smile on his face when he said, "Nice to meet you Tony".  8E was the polar opposite.  His face was red and drawn up in a look so sour it would curdle milk.  "We have pre-paid reservations for the opera in Vienna.  Do you have any idea how long this will be?"

"I don't but this captain is very good about keeping us informed.  I'm sure he'll let us know."

"Well, the Global Services desk has already sent a message that they're protecting us on a flight from AMS to VIE that's 2 hours later than what we booked.  We're not going to make it and our trip will be ruined."

Gulp...

Reinventing Life

Philip made an important point over breakfast this morning. Over the 30 years or so that we've been together and worked in aviation, circumstances have often demanded that we reinvent ourselves and our lives at work.

Base openings & closings, backruptcy(ies), mergers, gain &/or loss of destinations, changing alliances, network growth & shrinkage, early out departures and subsequent new-hires... 

It's endless, isn't it?

With each shift in our reality, we shifted to accommodate the commensurate changes to our life and lifestyle. Some of the shifts were undeniably positive, others required time and patience for their benefit to reveal itself. In aggregate, it all got us to the here and now. 

This morning, we are looking toward the future again, only this time through the "Vaseline lens" of middle age. I have to say, the future looks as bright and exciting as it ever did. 

A joint contract, seniority integration, the continued maturing of our corporate merger, the sudden seniority boost wrought by an attractive Early Out, the prospect of newly available bases and flying, etc all point to another reinvention of Philip & Tony. We are planning our "final move".  Like a snowball rolling downhill, the approach of retirement is gaining mass and speed. If I were in my 20s, I can't imagine a more exciting place to be or more exciting industry within which to build a career. 

In my 50s, my excitement is undiminished. I've (virtually) met many of the colleagues with whom I'll soon be sharing a jumpseat.  Some, I harbor undeniably positive feelings toward already. Others will require time and patience for their benefit to be revealed. Fortunately, I have the luxury of experience to show me that all have their place and purpose. 

In either case, I'm ready, no eager, for our next reinvention to begin. Fasten your seatbelt...

"Gentleman Pilot"

Aloha o'e to our friend and colleague Captain Phil Bohner (777) who will be operating his final UNITED flight tomorrow from Narita to Houston.  

I can't truthfully say that Phil and I are great friends; more, we are respectful colleagues.  Phil is the affable, collegial sort who never fails to smile when you pass, to ask how things are going, to be concerned when concern is merited and to be a calm, reassuring force in the face of any storm, either figurative or literal.  He is a "gentleman pilot" to use a term I've reserved for very few.  And I, for one, will be sad to see him leave us.  Phil Bohner is a Mensch whose contributions to who and what we are are noted and appreciated.

When I asked if he minded if I took a quick photo to memorialize his retirement, I couldn't imagine him agreeing to any more apt pose than this!  ("2 creams, extra sugar")

American Gothic

Every year on October 12th (or close to it) we gather to celebrate the beginning of our family.  Papa and Granna were wed on Granna's 18th birthday, October 12th, 1924.  Some of the details are a little cloudy in my mind, others are crystal clear.  Help me, if you can, to complete the picture...

When Papa (Harold Reece) first asked Papa Cloud if he could marry Granna, she was just 15 years old.  Papa Cloud (noted for his fiery disposition) was not enthused with the idea, "she's my best worker."  But he promised that if they waited until Granna (Alma Cloud) was 18 that he wouldn't stand in their way.  

When I was alone with Papa and Granna, I had a habit of asking them some pretty personal questions, especially in hindsight.  Most often, Papa would answer for them both, Granna content to sit in her chair quietly, arms folded.  She surprised me one day when I asked, "what did you wear for your wedding?"

Granna replied that Papa Cloud took her to a shop on the square in Marietta.  He told her to pick out the dress she wanted.  The one she chose was "robin's egg blue" and cost $24, a princely sum for the day.  At the time I asked, she avowed that she still had that dress.  I wonder what's become of it?

At the time they wed, lives were driven by the season, by the needs of the land and livestock.  After their wedding, Papa and Granna were free to enjoy the afternoon and evening.  The very next morning, they were expected in the field.  The harvest would not wait.

Discipline governed their young life together.  Discipline remained throughout their almost 73 years together.  Discipline became the ethos for our family.

Our American Gothic began 90 years ago.

A Great American

I'd like for you to meet Mr. Eugene Milliken, ordinary man, extraordinary human being.  We met Mr. Milliken a dozen or so years ago when we were looking to build a small shed on our property in Maine and our neighbors heartily recommended him for the job.

He made it clear at the outset that he liked things done the old-fashioned way.  He hated plywood (OSB wasn't even on the radar) and if we wanted to use any in our project, we'd best find someone else for the job.  That was no problem for us as we intended to leave the interior unfinished and I loved the thought of the wide plank floors and the tongue-and-groove decking for the roof.

He arrived on Day 1 with his younger helper, "Junior", in tow.  By the way, Mr. Milliken was 82 years old when work started, Junior was 78.  The pace wasn't the quickest; glaciers move faster.  But along with some pretty impressive woodwork, we were serenaded and told stories and generally enrapt by a born charmer of the highest order.  With a twinkle in his crystal blue eyes and an ever-ready smile, Eugene Milliken evinces the phrase "extraordinarily ordinary".  

Like so many of his generation, Mr. Milliken hails from modest beginnings, he served his country on foreign soil, he wed and raised a family, he worked honestly with his hands, he embraces joy, he eschews sadness (though he has known his share) and he leaves a path brighter than how he found it.  He is dignity and grace incarnate, yet would be the first to object to that notion.  He is an everyman who distinguishes himself in the world one person, one day, one job, one smile-at-a-time.

When I ran into him yesterday at breakfast, it changed the course of my day.  Well into his 90s now, his vision is failing.  His brand new white Chrysler is evidence enough of that, poor thing.  But the radiant beauty of a simple soul still shines bright in a ready smile and twinkling, impish, crystalline blue eyes.  

Eugene Milliken, great American...