Crew Cuts

Ever want to learn more about how international flight attendants' lives actually work? Me neither! Cool! Short post, see ya later!

Nah, can't do it. It might kill me to be succinct and short-winded, and then who would tell all these stupid stories and waste internet space? The Emirates Cabin Crew I met in Dubai demonstrated remarkable hospitality, open-mindedness, and rival my oilpatch comrades for number of passport stamps and general hedonism. They fundamentally changed my estimation of their HQ, Dubai, to boot. Accordingly, this post is aiming to do two things:

This Exchange Actually Happened

1)      Pay homage to a gang who had no reason to be awesome to me but decided to do so

2)      Describe the lives of the folks asking you, again, to put your damn seatback up. They're actually pretty interesting. So get comfy and, well, put your proverbial seatback up. Here we go.

When last we left our ignorant, narcissistic protagonist, I was fresh off a beach stroll with the irreplaceable Amy. She’d informed my completely undeserving ass that friends of hers had spent considerable time and effort throwing together a Friendsgiving celebration. I was invited to attend. Friendsgiving, for the uninitiated, reigns supreme among holidays – all the alcoholism and bacchanal of Thanksgiving but without thinly-veiled guilt-tripping for not flying out to see Mom more often (1).

Because over 25,000 sky-people are employed at any given time, entire buildings are dedicated to their housing.  This creates a lifestyle not so different then college dorm life. After checking in as guests at the front desk, Amy and I walked into the home of Olivia (2).  Unbeknownst to us, Olivia had installed a wormhole into her front door so we actually walked into a quaint Midwestern apartment that reeked of turkey and happiness.  The meal had taken her the better part of 3 days to prepare, which is a feat more considerable given that Cabin Crew don’t habitually have 3 consecutive days in town to knock around.  And she didn’t miss anything.  Props.

Actual Medal

Ruining the image of being somewhere outside Twin Cities was the “This Is Diversity” pamphlet enacted in real time in front of us. Serbians, Americans, Aussies, Canadians and various pan-galactic alien species stretched out on the couches drinking, cavorting and generally bullshitting around.  Ideal. Working my way around the room I gradually became a strong enough Jedi phony to convince the two Serbian women that I was Cabin Crew myself, an accomplishment which gained me nothing because Serbs don’t do “humor” like the rest of us.  Lesson learned. It'll make me stronger.

So we ate and we drank and then drank more, migrating from the customary (“How’d you get into Crew?  Where have you flown?”) to the more comical and personal (“Wait, so what do Arab women wear under ninja suits?” “How funny is it when Saudi guys go to bars for the first time?”). The answers to the last two questions are, respectively, "nothing" and "incredibly so."

Casually gleaned from these interactions, here's what you don’t know about being Emirates Cabin Crew. First, the airline provides huge group interviews in a large number of cities scattered across the world.  They do this to ensure diversity.  Thousands of interviewees come to these events to compete for a handful of spots.  In many cases (like most of the folks I met) the jobs are hot commodities because they represent a lifestyle in a fancy part of the world and a cure for geographic myopia.  In other cases (folks from very poor countries) it’s one of the most high-paying job interviews that ever comes around, and the ones who get the offer lift their entire families up an economic bracket.

Once hired, the lucky neophytes ship off to Dubai to live in this college-but-not-college world.  They’re assigned to batches (pledge classes) and trained for several weeks on how to handle asshole customers, pre-flight checks, and the most polite way to interrupt lavatory sexual incidents.  They are, for all intents and purposes, flying waitresses (waiters), maids and bartenders with a casual safety responsibility. Which means, tragically, the actual “work” part of their work lacks mental stimulation, significance and personal growth.  Let’s explore this.

Consider the nice old lady who works the cash register at your local Kroger (Carrefour, Walmart, HEB).  You don’t know her name, she doesn’t know your name, but you have to have some trite, forced conversation briefly before you move on with your life.  She doesn’t move on, though.  She has to keep smiling and help the next ignoramus learn that a zucchini and a cucumber aren’t the same thing, just like she just did with you (Botany’s hard). And then she'll provide the same instructions to insert the chip into the reader instead of swiping. And then wait for it to read. Over and over again. Flight attendant-ing (attending?) can approach this monotony.  Lots of repeated, trivial, superficial interactions with lots of people who’ll likely never see you again.  Meanwhile, babies sometimes cry and random people just expect you to put their luggage in the overhead bin for them.  So, again, the actual work part of being a flight attendant sucks. Fact.

It's Hard... So Hard.

Roster Release Anticipation

Flights are assigned once a month according to the issuance of The Roster, a holy document of tremendous import.  Waiting for rosters to post wracks the nervous system, especially for newbies who can’t exchange their flights with others yet. Once the n00bs finish a probationary period they can swap flights with other Novices. Some routes obviously get more bids (Bangkok) than others (Peshawar).  The long hauls (Seattle, Dallas) come with 2-3 day layovers while the shorter ones (Abu Dhabi, Cairo) can be in and out in 24 hours.

Cabin Crew don’t usually know anyone on their plane prior to liftoff.  With 25,000 crew to choose from and not many sticking around for more than a few years, the math involved generally precludes even the most social among them from having friends on board.  This has three main implications for your in-flight experience:

1.       The team working around you to placate angry Indians and guide confused Arabs has never worked together before, so cut them some slack (They’re probably doing great).

2.       If you’re sitting at the bulkhead, the flight attendant in the uncomfortable jumpseat in front of you during takeoff and landing probably hasn’t had a conversation longer than 10 seconds with anyone since she got to the airport, and might not have one until after returning home.  So you should talk to her.  Even if she’s not a babe (unlikely) and even if you aren’t staying long in the city you’re going to (also unlikely). You’d be surprised what a kind gesture an honest conversation can be. Travelling can be lonely.  Reach out.

[PHONE NUMBER HERE]

3.       Don’t try to get her phone number.  They’re not allowed, even if you do Crossfit. I know, it's bullshit.  Traverse this bridge by jotting your own digits onto a napkin along with a crude drawing of a stick figure puppy (3).   Then when you meet up at an African dance club later and discover that she’s the one beautiful Romanian girl in Dubai with a boyfriend, well, damn.  You tried.

There’s not much else to say on the subject (there is, but I don’t listen well). Cabin Crew live a unique life, and not one I encountered expressed remorse about leaving behind whatever they left behind. I’m grateful for the opportunity to peer into that lifestyle, and hope that the next time any of the crew I met get stuck on a DFW haul they aren’t completely depressed by it. And if you do… bring back my speaker?  Too much Tito’s, I left it at Olivia’s.

Tired of reality?  Get a new one.  Apply here

-R

(1)    It’s also much less problematic if someone at the dinner table is making googley-eyes at you on Friendsgiving.  
(2) The Emirati Goddess of Turkey
(3) Don’t whip out a business card (ever) in a non-business environment as it makes you look like a douche. Stick with puppy drawings.