*HUGE apologies for my absence dear readers. That’s the nature of this job! Always busy! I’ll try and keep it more up to date x
Ground school was fun that first day. Everything was so new and we only discussed the cool stuff about the job – the glamorous side of it I suppose: the uniform, the hair, the hair, the make-up requirements, the travel allowances, the days off, the opportunities. It was all so interesting – all the superficial things people think about with flight attendants are true. D, who had spent the golden years at the big A airlines, told us how she used to be expected to wear certain brands, shades and fragrances of nail polish, lipstick and perfume. When I really thought about it, it made sense. If all the A girls wore Chanel No 5, then it was a good memory for the passengers. If they smelt that fragrance out in public somewhere, it could well make them think ‘Those A hosties always smell like that’ and it was a good reputation to have. It really is so much about the image when it comes to cabin crew.
We talked about hairspray brands, the best type of hosiery that would stand the test of time and the coloured stones you weren’t allowed to wear in a ring (on only certain fingers!). There was so much to do with appearance – but it has to be. Flight attendants are the face of the airline. They’re who regular Joe’s think of when they think of an airline. And passengers are just as superficial as my job sounds – every second question I get from friends, family and perfect strangers about my job is about the uniform or the high heeled shoes or the make-up.
I remember we finished early that day. I was probably home by 5pm. That was the last time that would happen.
Because the next day we knuckled down and the real work began. First were safety procedures: we powered through passenger seating requirements, seatbelts, seat positions, refuelling actions, exit rows, safety briefings, jet blasts, engine spool down, anti-collision beacons and tarmac no no’s. It was endless, and it was only the first day. We blitzed through chapters in the manual, constantly learning. It was actually a little tedious – hours and hours of reading through the chapters, section by section, highlighting and circling and discussing and explaining and trying so hard to understand. We spent the majority of the day doing this, everyday. There was just such an extraordinary amount of information to learn. It was quite hard to comprehend sometimes, just how much I had to know, and I often wondered how I would get through four weeks of this – was it really possible to learn so much in such a short period?
And people really dismiss flight attendants. They say ‘how hard can it be? You’re just serving tea and coffee in the air!’ Ahhhh if only they knew just how hard it is. I feel like it is now my personal mission to re-educate these people who think being cabin crew is ‘just serving tea and coffee in the air’. It is so much more than that. That is about, hmmm, 0.5% of the job.
Going through the manual day after day, I was scared to learn just how much of this manual I needed to know verbatim. I didn’t even know what verbatim meant! But it didn’t take me long to find out.
We had our first exam on day four. I found it difficult – if you hadn’t studied your ass off you wouldn’t have passed. It was probably about ten pages long and took us a good chunk of the morning to complete. Later they told me that that first exam was probably the easiest of all the exams we were going to sit during ground school. Not for the first time, I wanted to mutter: “What have I got myself into here!?”
I passed that exam, but it wasn’t easy. We sat exams every two to three days. It was simply a matter of spending Monday learning the content of a bunch of chapters and Tuesday doing an exam on it. And if you got less than 80% it was a fail. It was pressure like I’d never felt it.
The girls in my ground school called me a perfectionist, but soon we were all staying up until 4am studying the night before one of those dreaded exams. When I’d been at high school and uni and would be studying for an exam there would always come a point where I would pack my books away and head to bed, thinking that if I didn’t know the material by then I never would. Then I would try and wing it the next day if I didn’t feel confident with the study I’d done. And that was always good enough. If I just scraped through then there was nothing to worry about. But you couldn’t just scrape through ground school. You can’t only ‘sort of’ know how to resuscitate a passenger or use a fire extinguisher. It’s all or nothing. I couldn’t not know this material. If I didn’t know it inside out and upside down I wouldn’t pass (and how awful to brag to all your family and friends that you were training to be a flight attendant – and bask in all the glory that that status gave you – and then flunk out!). I stayed up for hours every night, rewriting and rewriting my notes, then rereading and rereading them. I had hundreds of palm cards that I went through until I absolutely knew the information they contained off my heart. It sounds over the top, but I simply couldn’t rest until I knew that I knew it. And sometimes that did mean staying up until four in the morning. Then I would get up at 6 and, bleary eyed, putting my make up on in front of the bathroom mirror, I’d wonder why I even bothered to go to bed. I was living on so little sleep that 2 or three hours barely made a difference. I still felt like I’d been hit by a truck.
I never pulled an all nighter, but I came mighty close. There were even a few times when I called one of my ground school trainers at ten o’clock at night to ask a question. Luckily, they understood, and had told us we could call them any time. I felt bad calling their personal numbers, during time when they were away from work and probably just wanting to relax, but I quickly learnt to put my embarrassment and shyness aside. If I didn’t ask that question I would never know the answer, and that could prove dangerous in a situation in the future on the job. Again, bottom line was I simply had to know this stuff. There was no way to avoid it.
Monday, October 4, 2010
Saturday, July 3, 2010
Day One
My first day of ground school was not too different from my recruitment day – at the beginning of the day anyway. I was way too early of course, and super nervous. We all stood around awkwardly in front of the building that would be our home away from home for the next four weeks and gossiped about who had made it and who hadn’t. It was a nice surprise to see so many friendly faces from my recruitment day – people I was hoping would get through, did. R was there, as was M who’d had a go at the dream airline with me. In fact all the people who had sat at my table during group exercises with J had been successful. There were also seven other girls whom I’d never met before who had been to a recruitment day a week after mine. I didn’t know them then, but soon we would be best buddies.
As we walked inside and up the stairs to the seminar room I still couldn’t work out if I was more nervous than excited or the other way round. One thing for sure though was that I was stoked to be there.
And then I saw the training manuals on every desk. A huge ring binder, it was thicker than a phone book. And slipped into the cover was our class timetable for the next month. Every day was chockablock – fire fighting, wet drills, first aid, dangerous goods training, self defence training, CRM, cabin service, EPs, exams, exams, and then more exams. It was hard not to be overwhelmed.
Nevertheless, I couldn’t wait to get started. We did the expected meet and greet and heard more stories about life as cabin crew from S and R, our ground school trainers as well as L, the HR manager. L was a former flight attendant with a classy middle eastern airline and I got the feeling that apart from her HR duties that day, she was bought in to bring us all back down to earth about how unglamorous being cabin crew is. She’d had it good in the Middle East, flying with sheikhs and politicians and royal families and living the high life. But that’s not what it was going to be like here, she said. Here we would not be flying mums and dads, kids and other assorted holiday makers. Most of the time we’d be flying miners to mine sites. The airports would be dusty landing strips in the middle of nowhere. The aircrafts did not have televisions in the backs of the seats, nor would we board them via aerobridges. It was not going to be anything like what we imagined.
As we walked inside and up the stairs to the seminar room I still couldn’t work out if I was more nervous than excited or the other way round. One thing for sure though was that I was stoked to be there.
And then I saw the training manuals on every desk. A huge ring binder, it was thicker than a phone book. And slipped into the cover was our class timetable for the next month. Every day was chockablock – fire fighting, wet drills, first aid, dangerous goods training, self defence training, CRM, cabin service, EPs, exams, exams, and then more exams. It was hard not to be overwhelmed.
Nevertheless, I couldn’t wait to get started. We did the expected meet and greet and heard more stories about life as cabin crew from S and R, our ground school trainers as well as L, the HR manager. L was a former flight attendant with a classy middle eastern airline and I got the feeling that apart from her HR duties that day, she was bought in to bring us all back down to earth about how unglamorous being cabin crew is. She’d had it good in the Middle East, flying with sheikhs and politicians and royal families and living the high life. But that’s not what it was going to be like here, she said. Here we would not be flying mums and dads, kids and other assorted holiday makers. Most of the time we’d be flying miners to mine sites. The airports would be dusty landing strips in the middle of nowhere. The aircrafts did not have televisions in the backs of the seats, nor would we board them via aerobridges. It was not going to be anything like what we imagined.
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Further tests
“Breathe in. Hold it. Breathe out.” I did what I was told as my GP held his stethoscope to my heart and listened intently. I didn’t know where to look or how to feel. There were plenty of distractions in the office – my doctor had quite the artistic son, so there were paintings from art class everywhere, as well as plenty of souvenirs from his travels displayed all over his walls and bookshelves. But I couldn’t concentrate on any of them. Suddenly my heart was under pressure and I’m sure it was probably beating irregularly fast just because I was so bloody nervous.
Only minutes later my doctor sat me down and gave the good news. Yes I had a heart murmur, but so do 90% of all women, he said. It was an innocent murmur – meaning it was not dangerous – and likely caused by my posture (sorry Mum, I knew there was a reason you were always nagging me to sit up straight!). He confided that he thought the doctor who had done my medical may have overreacted slightly and because of this I’d still need to go to the hospital and have an ECG done, just to satisfy the company that I was fit to work. Only once I had the results from the ECG could he clear me to begin work. I wondered if I’d ever get to begin this job.
And that was how I found myself at a private hospital the next day – the only one that could fit me in at short notice – lying on a trolley and getting to experience how it is pregnant mothers feel when they have an ultrasound. It was complete with jelly and everything, only it was on my chest, not my uterus :) I laid there for more than half an hour as the nurse did a great job of distracting me by asking me about my travels of the previous year and about my new job I was (hopefully) heading into.
$450 and three days later I received the results and with a sense of relief informed my new employer that I was fit to work – nothing was going to stop me.
I wound everything up at my old job in mid March, and it was a sad affair. I’d become part of the family there after six years and learnt an incredible amount about good customer service and being apart of a team. I was sad to leave, especially after my workmates presented me with a gorgeous watch and a scrapbook of the last six years together. But I knew I was just going on to the join another family, as corny and lame as that sounds.
With one week to go before my first day of ground school, I was all set to bum around home and enjoy the last few days of sleep ins and relaxing hours on the couch. But then my parents suggested I take a holiday before I start ground school. It hadn’t even entered my mind. I am tight with my money (for good reason – I’m not just a scrooge) and even just having a week off between jobs had not sat very well with me. But they convinced me and before I knew it I was on a plane to Melbourne to spend 4 days with friends.
Not until I was sitting on that flight did it hit me what I was about to go into. Suddenly I was so aware of the flight attendants. I was always the type of person who watched the safety demonstration anyway, but now, well now I hung onto every word and watched their every move the entire flight. Soon that would be me showing people how to fit an oxygen mask. It was so exciting!
Four days in Melbourne did the trick. I got a chance to relax and had such a great time with my friends. I was glad my parents had talked me into going. Because I knew this’d be the last time I’d get to relax in quite a while.
Turns out though I didn’t know just how much I should’ve cherished that time in Melbourne…
Only minutes later my doctor sat me down and gave the good news. Yes I had a heart murmur, but so do 90% of all women, he said. It was an innocent murmur – meaning it was not dangerous – and likely caused by my posture (sorry Mum, I knew there was a reason you were always nagging me to sit up straight!). He confided that he thought the doctor who had done my medical may have overreacted slightly and because of this I’d still need to go to the hospital and have an ECG done, just to satisfy the company that I was fit to work. Only once I had the results from the ECG could he clear me to begin work. I wondered if I’d ever get to begin this job.
And that was how I found myself at a private hospital the next day – the only one that could fit me in at short notice – lying on a trolley and getting to experience how it is pregnant mothers feel when they have an ultrasound. It was complete with jelly and everything, only it was on my chest, not my uterus :) I laid there for more than half an hour as the nurse did a great job of distracting me by asking me about my travels of the previous year and about my new job I was (hopefully) heading into.
$450 and three days later I received the results and with a sense of relief informed my new employer that I was fit to work – nothing was going to stop me.
I wound everything up at my old job in mid March, and it was a sad affair. I’d become part of the family there after six years and learnt an incredible amount about good customer service and being apart of a team. I was sad to leave, especially after my workmates presented me with a gorgeous watch and a scrapbook of the last six years together. But I knew I was just going on to the join another family, as corny and lame as that sounds.
With one week to go before my first day of ground school, I was all set to bum around home and enjoy the last few days of sleep ins and relaxing hours on the couch. But then my parents suggested I take a holiday before I start ground school. It hadn’t even entered my mind. I am tight with my money (for good reason – I’m not just a scrooge) and even just having a week off between jobs had not sat very well with me. But they convinced me and before I knew it I was on a plane to Melbourne to spend 4 days with friends.
Not until I was sitting on that flight did it hit me what I was about to go into. Suddenly I was so aware of the flight attendants. I was always the type of person who watched the safety demonstration anyway, but now, well now I hung onto every word and watched their every move the entire flight. Soon that would be me showing people how to fit an oxygen mask. It was so exciting!
Four days in Melbourne did the trick. I got a chance to relax and had such a great time with my friends. I was glad my parents had talked me into going. Because I knew this’d be the last time I’d get to relax in quite a while.
Turns out though I didn’t know just how much I should’ve cherished that time in Melbourne…
Sunday, June 20, 2010
In a heartbeat
I waited two months to hear back from my dream airline. They’d told me two weeks. With every week that passed I lost more and more hope. I thought it was pretty clear that I hadn’t been successful. But I didn’t mind. I was too busy starting my new career elsewhere.
Two weeks before I was due to start ground school with L and J I ventured into the city one afternoon to have my medical done. It’s a requirement that cabin crew be fit and healthy and with no pre existing conditions that could hinder them on the job. I am pretty healthy though, so walked into the waiting room with no fear.
The medical was an array of urine samples and drug tests, vision charts and measurements. And that was just the beginning. When I finally saw an actual doctor, my reflexes, breathing and balance were tested. I lay on the examining table and the doctor listened to my heartbeat. And that’s when he started frowning.
“Did you know you have a heart murmur?” he asked me.
I stared back at him blankly. No, I replied. Memories of my Dads heart attack several years before came rushing back into my head and I remembered our family’s history of heart problems. I immediately thought the worst – but not what the doctor considered the worst.
“You’re going to have to get this checked by your GP,” he explained, deadly serious.
“Will it stop me from starting my new job?” I asked, slightly panicking. If I couldn’t do this job, I’d have nothing. I’d be right back down on the bottom of the heap – somewhere I’d only just managed to crawl out of.
My question didn’t sit well with the doctor, understandably. “Your heart health is more important than any job,” was his icy reply.
Of course I knew this, but unemployment played on my brain. I didn’t want to go there.
I left the doctors office a little while later, worried that all the good luck I’d had in winning this job was now about to come to a screeching halt. I sat on a park bench outside the building, the 5pm busy-ness of the city centre buzzing around me. But it all fell on deaf ears. I rang my GP straight away and made an appointment for the following day.
Two weeks before I was due to start ground school with L and J I ventured into the city one afternoon to have my medical done. It’s a requirement that cabin crew be fit and healthy and with no pre existing conditions that could hinder them on the job. I am pretty healthy though, so walked into the waiting room with no fear.
The medical was an array of urine samples and drug tests, vision charts and measurements. And that was just the beginning. When I finally saw an actual doctor, my reflexes, breathing and balance were tested. I lay on the examining table and the doctor listened to my heartbeat. And that’s when he started frowning.
“Did you know you have a heart murmur?” he asked me.
I stared back at him blankly. No, I replied. Memories of my Dads heart attack several years before came rushing back into my head and I remembered our family’s history of heart problems. I immediately thought the worst – but not what the doctor considered the worst.
“You’re going to have to get this checked by your GP,” he explained, deadly serious.
“Will it stop me from starting my new job?” I asked, slightly panicking. If I couldn’t do this job, I’d have nothing. I’d be right back down on the bottom of the heap – somewhere I’d only just managed to crawl out of.
My question didn’t sit well with the doctor, understandably. “Your heart health is more important than any job,” was his icy reply.
Of course I knew this, but unemployment played on my brain. I didn’t want to go there.
I left the doctors office a little while later, worried that all the good luck I’d had in winning this job was now about to come to a screeching halt. I sat on a park bench outside the building, the 5pm busy-ness of the city centre buzzing around me. But it all fell on deaf ears. I rang my GP straight away and made an appointment for the following day.
Thursday, June 10, 2010
You've got the job!
Not five minutes after I’d hung up with my east coast interviewer did my phone ring again. It was the January interview. “You’ve been successful! Congratulations!” came a voice. At the time I was so shocked and excited that I didn’t realise for weeks who the voice on the other end of the phone was that day, but now I’ve realised it was J – I knew she was my goodluck charm! The paperwork would be sent out soon she said, and in the meantime I should get my police clearance organised.
I was over the moon. I’d made it! I couldn’t quite believe it. But I was so excited and spent the next three weeks checking the mail everyday to see if my contract was sitting in the letterbox, just waiting for me to sign it. But it took forever to arrive and when, in early March, I got an invitation to a recruitment day at my dream airline – the one I had grown up admiring – I was torn as to whether I should go. I talked it over with my family and friends and they encouraged me to go, if for nothing else than to get my name into the system at that airline for the future. Working at that airline was still my ultimate goal. And maybe it would come sooner than expected?
Somehow I was less nervous in March than I was in January, even though this interview was by far the biggest and most serious one I’d been to. And all the other candidates were of the highest standard. They were mostly all older than me, all with previous experience, and all looking down their noses at me. I thought I cut an all right figure amongst them though, and this was confirmed when I made it to the panel interview that day as well. I couldn’t have been more stoked with myself and had a hard time trying not to let my mind run away with me and picture myself wearing that lovely dress already.
As I waited in the inner city hotel foyer for my interview, I bumped into a girl from my January interview. She’d also been offered the job there and I asked her what she’d do if she was successful today with this much bigger airline. She was quick to answer: “Oh I’d be here in a second! I’d pull out of ground school with J and L…I don’t care.” I guess some people only want to go to the big time. Nothing wrong with that – heck, I had been incredibly naïve as well and wanted to only work for the big airlines at one stage, but now that I had an offer I was happy to take it. I honestly didn’t know what I would decide if I got offered a job at two different places.
I was interviewed by a big burly bloke who could’ve been the CEO of this airline for all I knew. He was very business like but so wonderfully pleasant that I felt at ease sitting across from him and even had the guts to tell my awkward story about having to dob in a colleague who was coming to work under the influence of drugs. It was a good example of my work ethic and my integrity and I knew it. And I know it impressed him. And when we got to talking about my barista skills I thought I was in with a chance – he seemed so interested and so enthusiastic about my experience, whilst I was nothing but honest and polite to him.
I went home that day feeling as good as I had about my interview in January. But I didn’t know what to expect. Salaries and allowances and pretty uniforms and discounted travel and Hilton hotels were all swirling around in my head.
I was over the moon. I’d made it! I couldn’t quite believe it. But I was so excited and spent the next three weeks checking the mail everyday to see if my contract was sitting in the letterbox, just waiting for me to sign it. But it took forever to arrive and when, in early March, I got an invitation to a recruitment day at my dream airline – the one I had grown up admiring – I was torn as to whether I should go. I talked it over with my family and friends and they encouraged me to go, if for nothing else than to get my name into the system at that airline for the future. Working at that airline was still my ultimate goal. And maybe it would come sooner than expected?
Somehow I was less nervous in March than I was in January, even though this interview was by far the biggest and most serious one I’d been to. And all the other candidates were of the highest standard. They were mostly all older than me, all with previous experience, and all looking down their noses at me. I thought I cut an all right figure amongst them though, and this was confirmed when I made it to the panel interview that day as well. I couldn’t have been more stoked with myself and had a hard time trying not to let my mind run away with me and picture myself wearing that lovely dress already.
As I waited in the inner city hotel foyer for my interview, I bumped into a girl from my January interview. She’d also been offered the job there and I asked her what she’d do if she was successful today with this much bigger airline. She was quick to answer: “Oh I’d be here in a second! I’d pull out of ground school with J and L…I don’t care.” I guess some people only want to go to the big time. Nothing wrong with that – heck, I had been incredibly naïve as well and wanted to only work for the big airlines at one stage, but now that I had an offer I was happy to take it. I honestly didn’t know what I would decide if I got offered a job at two different places.
I was interviewed by a big burly bloke who could’ve been the CEO of this airline for all I knew. He was very business like but so wonderfully pleasant that I felt at ease sitting across from him and even had the guts to tell my awkward story about having to dob in a colleague who was coming to work under the influence of drugs. It was a good example of my work ethic and my integrity and I knew it. And I know it impressed him. And when we got to talking about my barista skills I thought I was in with a chance – he seemed so interested and so enthusiastic about my experience, whilst I was nothing but honest and polite to him.
I went home that day feeling as good as I had about my interview in January. But I didn’t know what to expect. Salaries and allowances and pretty uniforms and discounted travel and Hilton hotels were all swirling around in my head.
Monday, June 7, 2010
This job is not for everyone dear…
It was almost 5pm when I finally had my interview. And who walks down the stairs to fetch me but L. She beckoned me with a bony hand and powered up the stairs way ahead of me. The crew had partitioned off the room into three tiny interviewing cubicles. The seat I sat in opposite L and D, another scary senior crew member, was so close to the table I felt I almost had to suck in my stomach as I sat there.
All my life I’ve had a bit of trouble looking people in the eye. I don’t know why – it’s not like every word that comes out of my mouth is a lie and therefore I can’t look people in the eye or anything. I just find it a bit off putting and intimidating. But I knew I had to make good eye contact with L and D right then. D acted as scribe as L fired questions at me for 40 minutes – everything from what would you do with a drunken passenger? to could you really handle running through a dark, smoke filled cabin to open an exit? Do you mind working public holidays? Do you realise that ground school training will be the most intense and difficult four weeks of your life? Are you ready for that?
Of course I was! Well, at that moment I thought I was. For my first real interview though, I thought it had not gone too badly. I left feeling happy. I just had a great vibe – it seemed like a great company to work for, one I’d want to work for, and everyone I’d met that day seemed very nice. I wanted to join this team. So I thanked them and left, getting into my stinking hot car and driving home via the shops to get myself a block of chocolate as reward for surviving such a long day and making it through.
I spent the next three weeks back at my waitressing job, eagerly awaiting any news from my interview. As luck would have it suddenly every airline started calling me and I went to two other interviews while I waited to hear from J or L. But none measured up to the experience I’d had that day in January.
Late in February I was just about to head off to work when I received a call from an Australian airline recruiting for one of their east coast bases. As I was about to head to work, they promised to call me back later in the day. Any call from any airline was a cause of excitement for me so I was bubbling over the whole day, so keen to get home and have this woman call me back. And she did, as promised. Being a large airline, she was critical of my answers to her questions and as we wound up the interview and she still hadn’t asked me to attend a recruitment day, I feared my chances were slipping away. But to my surprise she extended a sympathetic hand. “Your answers aren’t as strong as I’d like, so you’d need to work on that. But I can tell you mean well and so I’m going to put you through to the recruitment day,” she said. Only problem was it was a five hour flight away and was in 3 days. And I hadn’t been too eager to move out of my state for this job just yet anyway. I told her I couldn’t give her an answer right then. “Don’t let me down,” she said. I was grateful she was giving me a chance. I knew it was rare and it made me realise the people on the other end of these phone interviews aren’t just reading off a sheet and ticking boxes…they really are human and go beyond your answers to make an assessment on whether you’d be right for the job.
All my life I’ve had a bit of trouble looking people in the eye. I don’t know why – it’s not like every word that comes out of my mouth is a lie and therefore I can’t look people in the eye or anything. I just find it a bit off putting and intimidating. But I knew I had to make good eye contact with L and D right then. D acted as scribe as L fired questions at me for 40 minutes – everything from what would you do with a drunken passenger? to could you really handle running through a dark, smoke filled cabin to open an exit? Do you mind working public holidays? Do you realise that ground school training will be the most intense and difficult four weeks of your life? Are you ready for that?
Of course I was! Well, at that moment I thought I was. For my first real interview though, I thought it had not gone too badly. I left feeling happy. I just had a great vibe – it seemed like a great company to work for, one I’d want to work for, and everyone I’d met that day seemed very nice. I wanted to join this team. So I thanked them and left, getting into my stinking hot car and driving home via the shops to get myself a block of chocolate as reward for surviving such a long day and making it through.
I spent the next three weeks back at my waitressing job, eagerly awaiting any news from my interview. As luck would have it suddenly every airline started calling me and I went to two other interviews while I waited to hear from J or L. But none measured up to the experience I’d had that day in January.
Late in February I was just about to head off to work when I received a call from an Australian airline recruiting for one of their east coast bases. As I was about to head to work, they promised to call me back later in the day. Any call from any airline was a cause of excitement for me so I was bubbling over the whole day, so keen to get home and have this woman call me back. And she did, as promised. Being a large airline, she was critical of my answers to her questions and as we wound up the interview and she still hadn’t asked me to attend a recruitment day, I feared my chances were slipping away. But to my surprise she extended a sympathetic hand. “Your answers aren’t as strong as I’d like, so you’d need to work on that. But I can tell you mean well and so I’m going to put you through to the recruitment day,” she said. Only problem was it was a five hour flight away and was in 3 days. And I hadn’t been too eager to move out of my state for this job just yet anyway. I told her I couldn’t give her an answer right then. “Don’t let me down,” she said. I was grateful she was giving me a chance. I knew it was rare and it made me realise the people on the other end of these phone interviews aren’t just reading off a sheet and ticking boxes…they really are human and go beyond your answers to make an assessment on whether you’d be right for the job.
Saturday, June 5, 2010
Thanks for coming!
It wasn’t a you, you, you and you situation, but close enough. The crew sounded apologetic as they thanked the rejected ones for coming today and informed them that they’d no longer be required. It was harsh to say the least but they had to be brutal I suppose. If you don’t make the cut you don’t make the cut. Of twenty only twelve remained after lunch. And I was lucky enough to be one of them.
By then it was well after 2pm and they had organised a schedule for the panel interviews. Six crew meant they could do three interviews at a time. I must admit I was relieved that I would only be sitting in front of two people and not three or four. All the jobs I’d previously held up until that point had barely even had interviews – I’d either been hired over the phone, on the spot or been recommended by a friend. This was a totally new experience for me.
My interview was going to be second last so I was in for a long wait. It was a stinking hot January day outside and even though the lure of an ice cold Coke at McDonalds down the road was tempting, I resisted, knowing something bad would happen and I’d get a flat tire coming back, or spill the drink all over my nice dress. So I stayed put and tried to make conversation with the others girls as we waited (that’s right – K had not been correct about M. He’d been sent packing and walked from the building with his shoulders slumped. As had K, much to her surprise – and mine. Just goes to show you experience isn’t always what employers are after!)
D was excited enough for all of us. “If they ask you to take a medical, you’re gonna fly girls, you mark my words!” I was feeling pretty stoked that I’d just got through to the panel interview. A medical was the last thing on my mind and seemed many, many steps away. All I was hoping for at that moment was that J and R – the super friendly crew member who’d taken down my passport details on arrival that morning – would be the ones who did my interview.
As we waited, we all could not help but discuss those who’d not made it. Everyone was shocked K had not made the cut and as the afternoon wore on, A, a member of ground staff at the middle eastern airline I mentioned earlier, had a few choice words to say about why she thought K hadn’t made it. I won’t repeat it, but as I sat there I thought it a shame they had actually chosen A to have an interview. Out of everyone there that day she was the only one I found unpleasant and unfriendly and up herself. And after she bagged out K to me as she fixed her perfectly styled hair I hoped today would be the last day I saw her.
By then it was well after 2pm and they had organised a schedule for the panel interviews. Six crew meant they could do three interviews at a time. I must admit I was relieved that I would only be sitting in front of two people and not three or four. All the jobs I’d previously held up until that point had barely even had interviews – I’d either been hired over the phone, on the spot or been recommended by a friend. This was a totally new experience for me.
My interview was going to be second last so I was in for a long wait. It was a stinking hot January day outside and even though the lure of an ice cold Coke at McDonalds down the road was tempting, I resisted, knowing something bad would happen and I’d get a flat tire coming back, or spill the drink all over my nice dress. So I stayed put and tried to make conversation with the others girls as we waited (that’s right – K had not been correct about M. He’d been sent packing and walked from the building with his shoulders slumped. As had K, much to her surprise – and mine. Just goes to show you experience isn’t always what employers are after!)
D was excited enough for all of us. “If they ask you to take a medical, you’re gonna fly girls, you mark my words!” I was feeling pretty stoked that I’d just got through to the panel interview. A medical was the last thing on my mind and seemed many, many steps away. All I was hoping for at that moment was that J and R – the super friendly crew member who’d taken down my passport details on arrival that morning – would be the ones who did my interview.
As we waited, we all could not help but discuss those who’d not made it. Everyone was shocked K had not made the cut and as the afternoon wore on, A, a member of ground staff at the middle eastern airline I mentioned earlier, had a few choice words to say about why she thought K hadn’t made it. I won’t repeat it, but as I sat there I thought it a shame they had actually chosen A to have an interview. Out of everyone there that day she was the only one I found unpleasant and unfriendly and up herself. And after she bagged out K to me as she fixed her perfectly styled hair I hoped today would be the last day I saw her.
Thursday, June 3, 2010
The Wait
By midday the formalities were over and we snacked on a lunch provided by the airline. Oh wait, did I say formalities over? Nope! We were only eating sandwiches but that didn’t mean we weren’t still being evaluated and observed. What kind of a flight attendant would I be if I sat in the corner eating my ham and cheese sandwich and not talking to anyone? I made an effort to be social and friendly even though I knew we were probably all going to go home that day and bitch to our friends about the girls we met at this interview. And I know J and L and the rest of the crew were watching us too and seeing how we interacted in a more relaxed setting and furthering their opinions on us.
After lunch it was time for the decision. We all trundled back downstairs to await our fate – honestly, the air was unbelievably thick with nerves! Everyone was a bit more chatty by then though and I judged people by what they said to me and to others. Not in a harsh way - it was just my way of getting to know who they were. There was K who was a flight attendant with the airline down the road. She looked like she belonged behind the make up counter in David Jones. She spoke loudly and was bubbly and friendly, reassuring us all that we would get through to the next stage, gushing especially over our lonesome male M: “I don’t want to sound sexist, but you’re a shoo in hun! It’s to your advantage that you’re the only guy here. You’ll get to the panel interview for sure,” she said.
Her colleague, R, was also looking to jump ship (errr…plane?) and was much more refined in looks and demeanour. She sat prim and proper next to me and didn’t say much but did let me in on all the goings on at her airline – the god awful early morning starts and the clattery tin can aircrafts she flew on all by herself. But she had no qualms about switching airlines – the pay was no better here than it was there!
Then there was D – a former hostess with the mostess from the big A. D was there right up until the day it collapsed and wasn’t ashamed to admit she was married to her job – that was how much she loved it. No kids. No marriage. No home of her own. Just flying for a living and going to the nudist beach on her days off (seriously). As we waited she told us stories about the good ol’ days at her old airline. It certainly sounded like the golden era – a real family. I have since heard that crew at D’s old airline were the highest paid in Australia (maybe even the world, I can’t remember) and therefore extremely loyal and well trained. She was taking a step down going for this job, but she just wanted to fly again, dying to get back into it after almost a decade away from the love of her life.
The rest of the group consisted of mothers who worked from home selling Tupperware or running boot camps for other mothers, several ground staff from other airlines wanting to crack into operations in the air and surprisingly - well to me anyway – a lot of people from interstate. They seemed willing to go anywhere for a cabin crew job and I was aghast at first to hear this level of commitment from them. I wanted a cabin crew job too, but I don’t think I would have packed up and come all the way across the country for it. If that doesn’t show you that the competition is fierce then I don’t know what will! And this wasn’t even a big airline interview either!
We waited for almost an hour as they made their choices. I thought I was going to burst. We distracted ourselves by gossiping about other airlines as we waited. This airline offers this much per year…that airline makes you do exams every six months…oh but this airline gives you $5.50 daily travel allowance!...but at that airline you’re away from home 15 nights a month… I must admit, I loved hearing all the gossip. I already felt like this was my domain, where I belonged, and I loved learning these little tidbits about the industry from the other candidates.
Suddenly J appeared at the top of the stairs, her fellow crew huddled behind her somehow managing smiles that were a combination of ‘I’m sorry, half of you didn’t make it’ and ‘Congrats! You’re through!’. We all looked up at them hopefully. I don’t know about the rest of them, but I was holding my breath and had my crossed fingers hidden underneath the handbag on my lap.
After lunch it was time for the decision. We all trundled back downstairs to await our fate – honestly, the air was unbelievably thick with nerves! Everyone was a bit more chatty by then though and I judged people by what they said to me and to others. Not in a harsh way - it was just my way of getting to know who they were. There was K who was a flight attendant with the airline down the road. She looked like she belonged behind the make up counter in David Jones. She spoke loudly and was bubbly and friendly, reassuring us all that we would get through to the next stage, gushing especially over our lonesome male M: “I don’t want to sound sexist, but you’re a shoo in hun! It’s to your advantage that you’re the only guy here. You’ll get to the panel interview for sure,” she said.
Her colleague, R, was also looking to jump ship (errr…plane?) and was much more refined in looks and demeanour. She sat prim and proper next to me and didn’t say much but did let me in on all the goings on at her airline – the god awful early morning starts and the clattery tin can aircrafts she flew on all by herself. But she had no qualms about switching airlines – the pay was no better here than it was there!
Then there was D – a former hostess with the mostess from the big A. D was there right up until the day it collapsed and wasn’t ashamed to admit she was married to her job – that was how much she loved it. No kids. No marriage. No home of her own. Just flying for a living and going to the nudist beach on her days off (seriously). As we waited she told us stories about the good ol’ days at her old airline. It certainly sounded like the golden era – a real family. I have since heard that crew at D’s old airline were the highest paid in Australia (maybe even the world, I can’t remember) and therefore extremely loyal and well trained. She was taking a step down going for this job, but she just wanted to fly again, dying to get back into it after almost a decade away from the love of her life.
The rest of the group consisted of mothers who worked from home selling Tupperware or running boot camps for other mothers, several ground staff from other airlines wanting to crack into operations in the air and surprisingly - well to me anyway – a lot of people from interstate. They seemed willing to go anywhere for a cabin crew job and I was aghast at first to hear this level of commitment from them. I wanted a cabin crew job too, but I don’t think I would have packed up and come all the way across the country for it. If that doesn’t show you that the competition is fierce then I don’t know what will! And this wasn’t even a big airline interview either!
We waited for almost an hour as they made their choices. I thought I was going to burst. We distracted ourselves by gossiping about other airlines as we waited. This airline offers this much per year…that airline makes you do exams every six months…oh but this airline gives you $5.50 daily travel allowance!...but at that airline you’re away from home 15 nights a month… I must admit, I loved hearing all the gossip. I already felt like this was my domain, where I belonged, and I loved learning these little tidbits about the industry from the other candidates.
Suddenly J appeared at the top of the stairs, her fellow crew huddled behind her somehow managing smiles that were a combination of ‘I’m sorry, half of you didn’t make it’ and ‘Congrats! You’re through!’. We all looked up at them hopefully. I don’t know about the rest of them, but I was holding my breath and had my crossed fingers hidden underneath the handbag on my lap.
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
Dressing to Impress
“Dear Candidate. You are invited to attend the Cabin Crew Recruitment & Information Day”
I got this news whilst checking my emails on my phone in the middle of Big W after yet another particularly boring waitressing shift. I had to steady myself by putting a hand up against the bags of Starburst beside me to contain my excitement. “Please dress in business attire” it said – well I already had that covered with my classy Cue dress that knocked the socks off even my older brother, whose usual response to my questions is a grunt.
The recruitment day was not for another month, which gave me plenty of time to prepare. I pondered where to even begin. Then I remembered I actually already knew two people who were flight attendants (the luck of it all!). Seeking them out through Facebook, I pummeled them with an endless stream of questions and waited eagerly for their replies. But I was disappointed. One didn’t even bother replying which I can now put down to my first taste of cabin crew snobbery. And the other proceeded to scare me so much with a long list of what I should and shouldn’t do at the recruitment day that for a moment I had second thoughts.
But only for a moment. What would become a trend within me over the next six months, her sobering advice only drove me to greater heights and made me more determined. And now, looking back, I am so glad that this happened. Because you need to be driven for this job. You need to really want it. I was half assed about school and sport and university and boyfriends and…well, everything. But not this job. Because if you are they’re going to turf you out and slam the door in your face.
I got online and researched the airline. I prepared answers for the interview. I spent hours perfecting my hairstyle for the big day. I even changed the way I spoke to people. It took some practice to get the bogan sounding ‘no worries’ that I said to every customer I served in my waitressing job out of my vocabulary. I knew slang like that wouldn’t make a good first impression.
By the time the day finally rolled around I was the most prepared I’d ever been for anything. I was miles too early of course – I hate being late for anything, but the day of the recruitment day I’d allowed extra extra time, just in case – and sat jittery in my car for half an hour before I even needed to approach the door of the building.
I watched in my rear vision mirror as women – and a single lonesome guy – rocked up. Almost everyone was dressed like they already had the job – a little tool of the trade that I found really worked for me and helped with my confidence. Dress like you already have the job and you fool everyone. I got out of my car nervously and approached the group. Seconds later the building’s doors opened and we all took seats awkwardly in the foyer, barely speaking a word to each other.
We tried to disguise it, but we were all sizing each other up and sussing out the competition. It was easy to tell who had experience in the industry already. They were the ones dressed the most appropriately and who had the immaculate hair and make up. They talked the most, reassuring the newbies like me that today was going to be a cinch. I appreciated the guidance and observed the entire group of twenty candidates the whole day long and applied their mannerisms to myself constantly. Ohhh she’s sitting up nice and tall, that looks good, I better sit up tall too. It was an exhausting day just constantly thinking so hard about my appearance and the way I spoke and moved.
Six smartly dressed crew ran the recruitment day. J and L were clearly the head honchos and I took a liking to J straight away. She was never without a smile and looked uncannily like a woman I used to work with which seemed like a good start for me. When she sat at my table to observe during group exercises I was pleased. She spoke so enthusiastically about the job and was so encouraging, telling everyone all the things she loved about her role. But there was no sugar coating either – we heard the bad stuff too. The aircraft break downs, the spur of the moment overnights with no clean clothes, or even a suitcase to pack your dirty ones in, the sprint across the tarmac at 5am in pouring rain in high heels. The thought of these things almost made me cringe, but at the same time I appreciated her honesty. I was under no illusions that this job was way less glamorous than people think and I am not afraid to get my hands dirty anyway.
L was an intimidating force of frizzy haired nature. Tall and skinny with the highest of high heeled shoes on her feet, L spoke with an English accent and seemed to fumble over her words because her teeth were too big. I wondered if this was why she had her lipliner drawn so far over the natural line of her lips, dangerously close to her nose, as if to accommodate for her big chompers. Her hair was equally as attention grabbing, frizzed and coiffed into a high French roll. L was a veteran of the skies, having flown for years with airlines in the US and Britain. The straight forward way in which she spoke totally intimidated me and I prayed she wouldn’t do my interview – if I got that far.
I was so aware the whole day that I was being watched and scrutinised every second, not only by the cabin crew running the day but also by the other candidates. It was quite unnerving but through the group activities and all the discussion I had a good feeling. Then when we spent far too long talking about the glamorous side of being cabin crew – the uniforms, the travel and the status – I found myself getting more and more excited, the energy swirling around in my stomach like nothing I’d ever felt. I think it was then I realised how much I wanted this. It was an awesome feeling.
I got this news whilst checking my emails on my phone in the middle of Big W after yet another particularly boring waitressing shift. I had to steady myself by putting a hand up against the bags of Starburst beside me to contain my excitement. “Please dress in business attire” it said – well I already had that covered with my classy Cue dress that knocked the socks off even my older brother, whose usual response to my questions is a grunt.
The recruitment day was not for another month, which gave me plenty of time to prepare. I pondered where to even begin. Then I remembered I actually already knew two people who were flight attendants (the luck of it all!). Seeking them out through Facebook, I pummeled them with an endless stream of questions and waited eagerly for their replies. But I was disappointed. One didn’t even bother replying which I can now put down to my first taste of cabin crew snobbery. And the other proceeded to scare me so much with a long list of what I should and shouldn’t do at the recruitment day that for a moment I had second thoughts.
But only for a moment. What would become a trend within me over the next six months, her sobering advice only drove me to greater heights and made me more determined. And now, looking back, I am so glad that this happened. Because you need to be driven for this job. You need to really want it. I was half assed about school and sport and university and boyfriends and…well, everything. But not this job. Because if you are they’re going to turf you out and slam the door in your face.
I got online and researched the airline. I prepared answers for the interview. I spent hours perfecting my hairstyle for the big day. I even changed the way I spoke to people. It took some practice to get the bogan sounding ‘no worries’ that I said to every customer I served in my waitressing job out of my vocabulary. I knew slang like that wouldn’t make a good first impression.
By the time the day finally rolled around I was the most prepared I’d ever been for anything. I was miles too early of course – I hate being late for anything, but the day of the recruitment day I’d allowed extra extra time, just in case – and sat jittery in my car for half an hour before I even needed to approach the door of the building.
I watched in my rear vision mirror as women – and a single lonesome guy – rocked up. Almost everyone was dressed like they already had the job – a little tool of the trade that I found really worked for me and helped with my confidence. Dress like you already have the job and you fool everyone. I got out of my car nervously and approached the group. Seconds later the building’s doors opened and we all took seats awkwardly in the foyer, barely speaking a word to each other.
We tried to disguise it, but we were all sizing each other up and sussing out the competition. It was easy to tell who had experience in the industry already. They were the ones dressed the most appropriately and who had the immaculate hair and make up. They talked the most, reassuring the newbies like me that today was going to be a cinch. I appreciated the guidance and observed the entire group of twenty candidates the whole day long and applied their mannerisms to myself constantly. Ohhh she’s sitting up nice and tall, that looks good, I better sit up tall too. It was an exhausting day just constantly thinking so hard about my appearance and the way I spoke and moved.
Six smartly dressed crew ran the recruitment day. J and L were clearly the head honchos and I took a liking to J straight away. She was never without a smile and looked uncannily like a woman I used to work with which seemed like a good start for me. When she sat at my table to observe during group exercises I was pleased. She spoke so enthusiastically about the job and was so encouraging, telling everyone all the things she loved about her role. But there was no sugar coating either – we heard the bad stuff too. The aircraft break downs, the spur of the moment overnights with no clean clothes, or even a suitcase to pack your dirty ones in, the sprint across the tarmac at 5am in pouring rain in high heels. The thought of these things almost made me cringe, but at the same time I appreciated her honesty. I was under no illusions that this job was way less glamorous than people think and I am not afraid to get my hands dirty anyway.
L was an intimidating force of frizzy haired nature. Tall and skinny with the highest of high heeled shoes on her feet, L spoke with an English accent and seemed to fumble over her words because her teeth were too big. I wondered if this was why she had her lipliner drawn so far over the natural line of her lips, dangerously close to her nose, as if to accommodate for her big chompers. Her hair was equally as attention grabbing, frizzed and coiffed into a high French roll. L was a veteran of the skies, having flown for years with airlines in the US and Britain. The straight forward way in which she spoke totally intimidated me and I prayed she wouldn’t do my interview – if I got that far.
I was so aware the whole day that I was being watched and scrutinised every second, not only by the cabin crew running the day but also by the other candidates. It was quite unnerving but through the group activities and all the discussion I had a good feeling. Then when we spent far too long talking about the glamorous side of being cabin crew – the uniforms, the travel and the status – I found myself getting more and more excited, the energy swirling around in my stomach like nothing I’d ever felt. I think it was then I realised how much I wanted this. It was an awesome feeling.
Monday, May 31, 2010
No experience. No fashion sense. No hope.
I can’t honestly remember the first time I thought I might like to be a flight attendant. I was not even two years old the first time I flew on a plane, so I’m pretty sure it wasn’t then! But I was fortunate enough as a child to fly a bunch of times with my family and by myself and I think the way that flying was always regarded as a treat in our household – a holiday you’d saved up for, something you’d counted down to so eagerly – made me wish I could be apart of that wonderful world every single day.
When I was at school, and then when I was at university, it always hung in the back of my mind, but I never truly considered it, because I knew already that it was not the easiest job to get and I was far from the ideal candidate. And besides, I’d been to uni and I was supposed to get a job with my degree right? Wrong. Word of advice: don’t do an arts degree folks! When I ran around Europe and the US for three months after I finished said useless degree, I was merely wasting time having fun and I knew when I came back I would have to look for a ‘real’ job (aka not just doing waitressing and pulling beers at music festivals). I knew I wouldn’t have much luck, but I tried anyway and at the same time started applying for airlines, knowing I probably wouldn’t get very far with that either.
Once upon a time, I’m sure soon after this fascination with flying began; all I wanted to be was a flight attendant with one big Australian airline. I’d flown with them almost exclusively every time I’d ever flown, not by choice, that was just the way it had happened, and I’d come to admire this airline’s stylish and glamorous uniforms, the far off destinations they flew to and the pure household name thing they had going for them. But I knew I’d be shooting myself in the foot if I only applied to that airline, so I applied to every airline known to man and waited.
And waited. It was a good six months before anybody called me. The day I got a call from a relatively new international carrier, it broke up the monotony of my day of clearing tables and making cappuccinos like you wouldn’t believe. Needless to say, it was probably the worst phone interview ever and one which I was totally unprepared for. It was my first bite from any airline and just the fact that they’d called me had me thinking I’d aced it, but I would soon learn that that was not the case.
Two weeks later I got the thanks but no thanks email – one of many that would pop up in my inbox unexpectedly every now and then – sometimes two months after interviews had taken place and have me crossing another airline off my list.
Then one day what I like to call an open cattle call, for a large middle eastern airline, was advertised in the weekend paper and despite my doubts about moving to another country to work for this airline I went along anyway…and found myself so far out of my depth it was all I could do not to run screaming and crying from the hotel it was being held in.
I thought I was dressed just fine in black pants, a crisp white shirt and heels. But when I rocked up and saw 100 other candidates there dressed as if they were cabin crew already (I suspect most of them probably were actually) I knew I was totally out of my league. I wasn’t so naïve that I bought with me my high school resume portfolio like a smattering of barely 18 year olds did. And I wasn’t dressed in too short dresses or jeans like a few others barely eighteen year olds were. I was 23 and dressed just fine, but just not for this occasion.
It was an all day event, with videos making the airline look all shiny and exciting and someone who anyone in their right mind would kill to work for. But I wasn’t ready to move half way across the world for this – yet. So I hightailed it out of there and walked straight into the city and spent far too much money on some flight attendant-like garb. Armed with the right clothes and shoes and after experimenting with my unreasonable and boring hair, I suddenly felt a lot more prepared for the aviation world than I had the day before.
Then just before Christmas I had another phone interview, this time with a small state airline. This time I was certain I had aced it, but still, being new to the industry I knew nothing of what to expect. But a few weeks later I got the magical email…
“Dear Candidate. You are invited to attend the Cabin Crew Recruitment & Information Day”
When I was at school, and then when I was at university, it always hung in the back of my mind, but I never truly considered it, because I knew already that it was not the easiest job to get and I was far from the ideal candidate. And besides, I’d been to uni and I was supposed to get a job with my degree right? Wrong. Word of advice: don’t do an arts degree folks! When I ran around Europe and the US for three months after I finished said useless degree, I was merely wasting time having fun and I knew when I came back I would have to look for a ‘real’ job (aka not just doing waitressing and pulling beers at music festivals). I knew I wouldn’t have much luck, but I tried anyway and at the same time started applying for airlines, knowing I probably wouldn’t get very far with that either.
Once upon a time, I’m sure soon after this fascination with flying began; all I wanted to be was a flight attendant with one big Australian airline. I’d flown with them almost exclusively every time I’d ever flown, not by choice, that was just the way it had happened, and I’d come to admire this airline’s stylish and glamorous uniforms, the far off destinations they flew to and the pure household name thing they had going for them. But I knew I’d be shooting myself in the foot if I only applied to that airline, so I applied to every airline known to man and waited.
And waited. It was a good six months before anybody called me. The day I got a call from a relatively new international carrier, it broke up the monotony of my day of clearing tables and making cappuccinos like you wouldn’t believe. Needless to say, it was probably the worst phone interview ever and one which I was totally unprepared for. It was my first bite from any airline and just the fact that they’d called me had me thinking I’d aced it, but I would soon learn that that was not the case.
Two weeks later I got the thanks but no thanks email – one of many that would pop up in my inbox unexpectedly every now and then – sometimes two months after interviews had taken place and have me crossing another airline off my list.
Then one day what I like to call an open cattle call, for a large middle eastern airline, was advertised in the weekend paper and despite my doubts about moving to another country to work for this airline I went along anyway…and found myself so far out of my depth it was all I could do not to run screaming and crying from the hotel it was being held in.
I thought I was dressed just fine in black pants, a crisp white shirt and heels. But when I rocked up and saw 100 other candidates there dressed as if they were cabin crew already (I suspect most of them probably were actually) I knew I was totally out of my league. I wasn’t so naïve that I bought with me my high school resume portfolio like a smattering of barely 18 year olds did. And I wasn’t dressed in too short dresses or jeans like a few others barely eighteen year olds were. I was 23 and dressed just fine, but just not for this occasion.
It was an all day event, with videos making the airline look all shiny and exciting and someone who anyone in their right mind would kill to work for. But I wasn’t ready to move half way across the world for this – yet. So I hightailed it out of there and walked straight into the city and spent far too much money on some flight attendant-like garb. Armed with the right clothes and shoes and after experimenting with my unreasonable and boring hair, I suddenly felt a lot more prepared for the aviation world than I had the day before.
Then just before Christmas I had another phone interview, this time with a small state airline. This time I was certain I had aced it, but still, being new to the industry I knew nothing of what to expect. But a few weeks later I got the magical email…
“Dear Candidate. You are invited to attend the Cabin Crew Recruitment & Information Day”
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