Nightmares inflight can come in various shapes and forms. The occasional breakdown of the in-seat entertainment program can cause a royal headache as much for bored passengers as does for the crew, but none beats the running out of meal choices when it comes to massive raids of grievances. And that, I have encountered more than a few times.
A typical Economy Class lunch or supper served on an ultra-long haul flight comes with three options: a Chinese-style rice dish, a Western-style potato dish, or a Vegetarian pasta - each loaded in limited numbers by our caterers. Fairly diverse and considerate, eh? But the balance only upholds if that particular flight is carrying a load of passengers with as diverse a palate.
With Asian passengers who cannot live a day without rice, the Chinese option is unquestionably popular. For more versatile Western passengers with big appetites, meat and potatoes sound particularly fulfilling. Rarely do any passengers venture into the Pasta, as if it's the acne-faced loser that nobody befriends with.
So what happens, one asks, if I have a flight-load of Asian passengers? It's a disaster waiting to unfold. Not only is my salesmanship put to the test, my EQ also gets a reality check.
So it goes on my flight to Vancouver, on New Year's Eve 2007.
Promptly taking off after midnight on the 30th, we began our late-night supper service. I rehearsed the menu as I painstakingly dragged the cow of a cart some forty rows uphill: Chicken with Onion Sauce and Rice; Pork with BBQ Sauce and Mashed Potatoes; or Penne with Ratatouille. After testing the waters for the first three rows , I knew what was coming. Half of the first choice in my cart was gone. A quick change in strategy must be enforced.
From experience, I began reversing the order of the menu, putting Pork first and Chicken to the last. Psychology tells me that passengers usually become ADD after hearing the first two choices, as they will be busy deciding between the two. And so I sold a few Pork.
Before halfway through the first cabin of mainly Hong Kong Chinese passengers interspersed with some foreigners, most of my Chicken have already run out the fence. Most Chinese, upon hearing the word "rice," couldn't care less whether it comes with fish, chicken or beef and cut me off before I could even finish my sales pitch. I peered at the cabin ahead. A hungry load of Chinese mouths waiting to be fed. Plan C was direly needed. I began dressing up the Pork with full, detailed description and a smile as sincere as one can get. "Would you like to have Pasta or Pork? It's tender and braised in a tangy BBQ sauce and comes with hot mashed potatoes..." then I'd lower my voice into a whisper and squint my eyes, "it's reeeeally good." Most Westerners would buy that.
For the more indecisive or carefree passengers, sometimes my bias saves the day, albeit against my goodwill. For the petite ones or those who appear to be on a diet, I'd hard sell the Pasta with the feelgood key word: "It's Vegetarian." Some, invariably Westerners, would ask for my recommendation. "Oh, definitely the Pasta." I say that with practically a hand over my heart. I'm sorry lady, either you live or I live. There's nothing else I could say about the Pasta. It was nasty. Bland, limp starch with a plop of indiscernible Ratatouille on the side. Honestly, whoever designed the menu is setting us crew up for a sabotage. Peppers, courgettes, onions and tomatoes is a recipe no Chinese can ingest. We all know the Disney film was a hit, but thanks for making that an option on a flight that is known to be primarily Chinese passengers.
With that said, I made it to the second half of the second cabin alive with a few Pork and plenty of Pasta left in my cart - only to arrive at the much feared news from my Section Leader: All Chicken and Pork declared run out. I looked up, jaw hanging, sweat pouring, legs trembling, at the remaining six rows where not a single Westerner is to be seen. With my last Pork given out, I braced myself for the onslaught of grievances.
Still faking my cool, I cheerfully approached the next row, "Would you like to try our Pasta with Ratatouille?" It was really meant to be a plea, not a question. The passenger stared blankly at me, anticipating the next two choices. "What else have you got?" "I'm really sorry Sir, we have already run out of the Chicken or the Pork, they were very popular... Would you like to have the Pasta?" God have mercy. Some passengers would burst in an outrage of disappointment; others resign to their misfortune. And so I apologize, and empathize, and apologize one by one for every row that comes.
It wasn't only once that I've heard some upset Chinese passengers yelling at a crew. "So you're telling me I have to eat beef?! What now, I don't have a choice?!" In this incident, one mainland Chinese, upon opening his entree and tasting his Pasta, convulsively threw his fork down and bawled to his wife, "Hen nan-chi!!! (It's NASTY!!! in Mandarin)". I, having already turned into a human dartboard, of all things actually sympathized with him this one time.
A typical Economy Class lunch or supper served on an ultra-long haul flight comes with three options: a Chinese-style rice dish, a Western-style potato dish, or a Vegetarian pasta - each loaded in limited numbers by our caterers. Fairly diverse and considerate, eh? But the balance only upholds if that particular flight is carrying a load of passengers with as diverse a palate.
With Asian passengers who cannot live a day without rice, the Chinese option is unquestionably popular. For more versatile Western passengers with big appetites, meat and potatoes sound particularly fulfilling. Rarely do any passengers venture into the Pasta, as if it's the acne-faced loser that nobody befriends with.
So what happens, one asks, if I have a flight-load of Asian passengers? It's a disaster waiting to unfold. Not only is my salesmanship put to the test, my EQ also gets a reality check.
So it goes on my flight to Vancouver, on New Year's Eve 2007.
Promptly taking off after midnight on the 30th, we began our late-night supper service. I rehearsed the menu as I painstakingly dragged the cow of a cart some forty rows uphill: Chicken with Onion Sauce and Rice; Pork with BBQ Sauce and Mashed Potatoes; or Penne with Ratatouille. After testing the waters for the first three rows , I knew what was coming. Half of the first choice in my cart was gone. A quick change in strategy must be enforced.
From experience, I began reversing the order of the menu, putting Pork first and Chicken to the last. Psychology tells me that passengers usually become ADD after hearing the first two choices, as they will be busy deciding between the two. And so I sold a few Pork.
Before halfway through the first cabin of mainly Hong Kong Chinese passengers interspersed with some foreigners, most of my Chicken have already run out the fence. Most Chinese, upon hearing the word "rice," couldn't care less whether it comes with fish, chicken or beef and cut me off before I could even finish my sales pitch. I peered at the cabin ahead. A hungry load of Chinese mouths waiting to be fed. Plan C was direly needed. I began dressing up the Pork with full, detailed description and a smile as sincere as one can get. "Would you like to have Pasta or Pork? It's tender and braised in a tangy BBQ sauce and comes with hot mashed potatoes..." then I'd lower my voice into a whisper and squint my eyes, "it's reeeeally good." Most Westerners would buy that.
For the more indecisive or carefree passengers, sometimes my bias saves the day, albeit against my goodwill. For the petite ones or those who appear to be on a diet, I'd hard sell the Pasta with the feelgood key word: "It's Vegetarian." Some, invariably Westerners, would ask for my recommendation. "Oh, definitely the Pasta." I say that with practically a hand over my heart. I'm sorry lady, either you live or I live. There's nothing else I could say about the Pasta. It was nasty. Bland, limp starch with a plop of indiscernible Ratatouille on the side. Honestly, whoever designed the menu is setting us crew up for a sabotage. Peppers, courgettes, onions and tomatoes is a recipe no Chinese can ingest. We all know the Disney film was a hit, but thanks for making that an option on a flight that is known to be primarily Chinese passengers.
With that said, I made it to the second half of the second cabin alive with a few Pork and plenty of Pasta left in my cart - only to arrive at the much feared news from my Section Leader: All Chicken and Pork declared run out. I looked up, jaw hanging, sweat pouring, legs trembling, at the remaining six rows where not a single Westerner is to be seen. With my last Pork given out, I braced myself for the onslaught of grievances.
Still faking my cool, I cheerfully approached the next row, "Would you like to try our Pasta with Ratatouille?" It was really meant to be a plea, not a question. The passenger stared blankly at me, anticipating the next two choices. "What else have you got?" "I'm really sorry Sir, we have already run out of the Chicken or the Pork, they were very popular... Would you like to have the Pasta?" God have mercy. Some passengers would burst in an outrage of disappointment; others resign to their misfortune. And so I apologize, and empathize, and apologize one by one for every row that comes.
It wasn't only once that I've heard some upset Chinese passengers yelling at a crew. "So you're telling me I have to eat beef?! What now, I don't have a choice?!" In this incident, one mainland Chinese, upon opening his entree and tasting his Pasta, convulsively threw his fork down and bawled to his wife, "Hen nan-chi!!! (It's NASTY!!! in Mandarin)". I, having already turned into a human dartboard, of all things actually sympathized with him this one time.
3 comments:
Poor man... sympathy for you, though i am laughing at the same time :-)
I recall once when I was flying (not by Cathy) and the meal was out of choice, those ladies just gave me the remaining option and escaped immediately... its really nice of you to apologize and empathize for them one by one. They are lucky to be your guest on board.
this was hilarious! omg- i love the stereotyping. nice work alvin! poor hungry mouths. all the drama over chicken, pork, or pasta... though i must say, i've been at the end of the line before too... it sucks, but hey, it's not the end of the world! haha... that poor man at the end- whining to his wife. ahhh what women have to live with *wink*
Haha... thanks Terry and Kelley. but that mainlander couple isn't all that innocent. There's more to come on them, but I just still haven't gotten to it yet!
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