This was copied from the New York Post Online Edition. It says a lot about the state of our industry. I guess you get what you pay for in terms of employees...
October 24, 2004 -- TRUE story. This New Yorker is a retired CEO. Rich. Park Avenue penthouse. Lon don town house. Palm Beach winter house. And assorted other joints he calls home.
He's flying Heathrow to JFK. Commercial aircraft. First class. He says, "The reason to fly first class is to avoid stress."
He's traveling with two permitted carry-ons plus one regulation suitcase that he's checking. Everything nice, neat, asking no favors, all according to Hoyle, right?
Wrong.
The ticket agent announces, "Your suitcase is too heavy."
He responds, "But it's just a regular suitcase. I've used it often before. Nothing outsize, nothing specially made. Just your routine bag."
"Too heavy."
The differential was something like 5 kilos. He was approximately 5 kilos over the limit.
"I'm sorry. I wasn't aware," he said. "So do I pay for this overage in cash or is a credit card alright?"
"You can't pay for it. We are not accepting this suitcase. We are not taking you if you take this suitcase. It is 5 kilos over the limit."
"What limit? Who knew about this limit? I didn't know there was this limit. I've flown with the same suitcase over and over. What limit are you talking about? When did this limit go into effect? It's a new ruling?"
"Not new. It's been in effect a month."
"A month? Nobody told me about this thing. I didn't know. There's been no information on it anywhere. You can't just arbitrarily decide a limit without informing travelers. If this is some new ruling, I won't do it again next time. But I'm here now, and I have this thing, so I'll pay whatever the surcharge is."
Her voice raised an octave. "I already told you, you cannot pay. That's our ruling. And we are not taking this suitcase."
His voice raises an octave. "But I'm already here. And I didn't know. A long line's behind me. I have to make the plane. Your first class is not full, so amortize my extra 5 kilos among the empty seats."
"You are becoming rude," she snaps.
"Look, I'm not rude. But this isn't the moment for any philosophical discussion with you. I just want to make my plane and since I don't know what to do, I have to ask you to help me find an answer to this."
Adhering to some textbook version of complaints-dealing-with-customers, she repeats, "You are becoming rude."
She walks away from the counter and refuses to check him in. A colleague confirms she's upset. The supervisor arrives and reinforces the ticket agent's statements while telling the gentleman this situation is now basically his to work out.
Realizing he's facing an implacable foe — underpaid, overworked, ill-appreciated with nobody but customers to take it out on — he says, "What would you suggest I do with its contents now? I don't mean to be argumentative, but what is there for me to do?"
"That is not our problem," he is told.
He then opens the suitcase right at the counter. Socks, undershorts tumble out. This respected, respectable gentleman, who in other circumstances would be commanding respect, is stuffing laundry and pajamas into his carry-on cases. They're full to bursting. They won't take anymore.
He finally gets a third carry-on bag and, as the world stands there staring, squats down jamming shoes and ties into it. Panting and sweating he goes back to the agent. She says, "The rule is two carry-ons. You're not allowed a third."
Passengers in parallel lines are now snickering to one another: "So who is this ass?"
Monitoring the Kafkaesque proceeding, a polite Pakistani dredged up from his own luggage a larger-size carry-on duffel and offered it. The American repacked his now-rumpled, disarranged belongings on the floor in view of everyone and stuffed them into the duffel. Stumbling under its size and weight, he lumbered laboriously into the jetway carrying exactly the same weight he'd taken out of his suitcase.
Then, just before boarding the plane, he was taken out of line for a body search.
This was American Airlines. Yesterday, American Airlines announced it's having serious difficulties. Yeah, no kidding.
October 24, 2004 -- TRUE story. This New Yorker is a retired CEO. Rich. Park Avenue penthouse. Lon don town house. Palm Beach winter house. And assorted other joints he calls home.
He's flying Heathrow to JFK. Commercial aircraft. First class. He says, "The reason to fly first class is to avoid stress."
He's traveling with two permitted carry-ons plus one regulation suitcase that he's checking. Everything nice, neat, asking no favors, all according to Hoyle, right?
Wrong.
The ticket agent announces, "Your suitcase is too heavy."
He responds, "But it's just a regular suitcase. I've used it often before. Nothing outsize, nothing specially made. Just your routine bag."
"Too heavy."
The differential was something like 5 kilos. He was approximately 5 kilos over the limit.
"I'm sorry. I wasn't aware," he said. "So do I pay for this overage in cash or is a credit card alright?"
"You can't pay for it. We are not accepting this suitcase. We are not taking you if you take this suitcase. It is 5 kilos over the limit."
"What limit? Who knew about this limit? I didn't know there was this limit. I've flown with the same suitcase over and over. What limit are you talking about? When did this limit go into effect? It's a new ruling?"
"Not new. It's been in effect a month."
"A month? Nobody told me about this thing. I didn't know. There's been no information on it anywhere. You can't just arbitrarily decide a limit without informing travelers. If this is some new ruling, I won't do it again next time. But I'm here now, and I have this thing, so I'll pay whatever the surcharge is."
Her voice raised an octave. "I already told you, you cannot pay. That's our ruling. And we are not taking this suitcase."
His voice raises an octave. "But I'm already here. And I didn't know. A long line's behind me. I have to make the plane. Your first class is not full, so amortize my extra 5 kilos among the empty seats."
"You are becoming rude," she snaps.
"Look, I'm not rude. But this isn't the moment for any philosophical discussion with you. I just want to make my plane and since I don't know what to do, I have to ask you to help me find an answer to this."
Adhering to some textbook version of complaints-dealing-with-customers, she repeats, "You are becoming rude."
She walks away from the counter and refuses to check him in. A colleague confirms she's upset. The supervisor arrives and reinforces the ticket agent's statements while telling the gentleman this situation is now basically his to work out.
Realizing he's facing an implacable foe — underpaid, overworked, ill-appreciated with nobody but customers to take it out on — he says, "What would you suggest I do with its contents now? I don't mean to be argumentative, but what is there for me to do?"
"That is not our problem," he is told.
He then opens the suitcase right at the counter. Socks, undershorts tumble out. This respected, respectable gentleman, who in other circumstances would be commanding respect, is stuffing laundry and pajamas into his carry-on cases. They're full to bursting. They won't take anymore.
He finally gets a third carry-on bag and, as the world stands there staring, squats down jamming shoes and ties into it. Panting and sweating he goes back to the agent. She says, "The rule is two carry-ons. You're not allowed a third."
Passengers in parallel lines are now snickering to one another: "So who is this ass?"
Monitoring the Kafkaesque proceeding, a polite Pakistani dredged up from his own luggage a larger-size carry-on duffel and offered it. The American repacked his now-rumpled, disarranged belongings on the floor in view of everyone and stuffed them into the duffel. Stumbling under its size and weight, he lumbered laboriously into the jetway carrying exactly the same weight he'd taken out of his suitcase.
Then, just before boarding the plane, he was taken out of line for a body search.
This was American Airlines. Yesterday, American Airlines announced it's having serious difficulties. Yeah, no kidding.
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