*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.
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