Let's face it. Every job comes with its own fascinating range of nuisances that, on certain days when your mood just ain't up for fascination, can simply t-i-c-k you off. How many times have you stood over a broken printer and wished it'd fit through the office window? Well, day-to-day inflight workouts come with its whole score of nuisances that can put even the most hospitable flight attendant to test when a flight is full house and stress is ringing high.
Captured here is a Countdown of Top 5 Pet Peeves on which I believe all cabin crew will find common ground. Again, these are pet peeves - obnoxious, petty acts that passengers unknowingly do to make our lives just a tad more difficult. So, here's a friendly little hint, if you will: DON'T DO IT.
Captured here is a Countdown of Top 5 Pet Peeves on which I believe all cabin crew will find common ground. Again, these are pet peeves - obnoxious, petty acts that passengers unknowingly do to make our lives just a tad more difficult. So, here's a friendly little hint, if you will: DON'T DO IT.
Pet Peeve No. 5 - A moment when I wish I have a third hand (to slap someone)
Often times we carry out a "pre-poured" service in Economy Class, where the crew carry tray-loads of juices and water and pause at each row for self-help service. "Care for some apple juice, orange juice, or water?" "Apple Juice." Then the passenger just sits, mindlessly waiting for you to extend a third arm and hand him a glass. If you haven't noticed, there are more than a dozen glassfuls of liquids on the tray and it requires at least two hands to bear the weight and balance. "Sir, please help yourself." Behind this polite response really is a whole lot of fierceness. And if that's not irritating enough? Try having a passenger hand over a ball of trash as you go with your tray of juices. Um, if you haven't noticed, I only have two hands. They're both in use.
Pet Peeve No. 4 - A moment when I wish I have legs of steel
Now, let's say the aisle extending from rows 54 to 70 is at least 40 feet long. Someone in row 55 requests for a pillow. You search at the nearest spot and finds none, trek all the way back down to the galley and hunt for one, then return to the passenger. "Actually, can I have two?" Make up your mind, lady. You return with another pillow, next her partner decides he wants one, too. There you go again, and that's a distance of 240 feet covered in just a matter of five minutes. Multiply that by hundreds of passengers and requests. No wonder, we crew often say "I just walked from Hong Kong to Vancouver." It's meant to be taken literally, in terms of miles by the fourth digit.
Pet Peeve No. 3 - A moment when I wish you'd just wet your pants
It's midway through the meal service. I'm bending up and down, reaching left and right, tugging in and out of the food cart when at the next moment I stand up, a passenger towers at the other end of your food cart, quietly demanding passage to the toilets. You've gotta be kidding me is usually what first comes to mind. Timing, people, timing. We're in the middle of the cabin, am I to drag my cart all the way down just to let you pass? First, this "runway" discriminates against full-figured bodies while the cart is in the way. Second, the cart is one heavy cow that is more difficult to maneuver than most think. Third and more importantly, little do passengers know, I must keep up to pace with the other aisle or else slews of consequences ensue. To avoid falling too far behind, I usually continue service until his or her presence becomes unbearable. Next time that happens, just be reminded that as I smile letting you squeeze through, I am really despising you.
Pet Peeve No. 2! - A moment when you wish you can BAWL
- "Sir, would you care for fish with rice, beef with potatoes, or pasta?"
- "Chicken."
Seriously, Jesus Christ. For the umpteenth time I repeat the menu as I go row after row; my smile is fading and my throat drying fast. Please don't make me repeat it once more than necessary. "Sir, we are serving fish, beef, or pasta today. Which one would you prefer?" "No chicken?" I suck in a deep breath, but really I'm throwing fits inside. For some reason, passengers who commit such crimes are always inevitably Filipino. I look to the other side of the aisle and fantasize leaving him without food. "Sir," I tear out a spare menu card as my voice incrementally raises, "(now read and listen!!!) IT'S FISH, BEEF, OR PASTA," still with a smile - an awkward one at best. The passenger then studies my menu in slow motion - even though he already has one - still searching for his imaginary chicken. "No chi..." "NO."
Pet Peeve No. 1 - The moment when you seriously lose it
Once again I go row after row, this time collecting trays. There's masticated food, melted ice-cream, greasy cutlery, sloshing liquids, displaced dishes and simply nastiness. But it's all good as this is just normal daily routine, as long as the trays fit snugly into the cart slots and nothing gets stuck ('coz that will classify as a disaster, not a nuisance). That's until I arrive at the next row where two - sometimes even three - passengers had stacked individual plastic-ware and trays into one neat pile. This, my friends, tops the list and warrants some speechless implosion.
Most passengers who commit this crime do so to free up and stow away their folding table; others do so with intentions to make our lives easier. But thanks, you've just tripled our workload, as trays only fit into a cart the way it comes out. I dare say that not one crew has shunned such obstacles in their flying career, and different crew react differently. Some deliberately and glaringly pick through and separate individual dish and tray before the passengers' eyes as a way of saying f-you; others mutter curses as they dump the pile on the floor and sort out the dirty mess. Either way, we will despise you forever. Please, try not to stack the dishes.
Often times we carry out a "pre-poured" service in Economy Class, where the crew carry tray-loads of juices and water and pause at each row for self-help service. "Care for some apple juice, orange juice, or water?" "Apple Juice." Then the passenger just sits, mindlessly waiting for you to extend a third arm and hand him a glass. If you haven't noticed, there are more than a dozen glassfuls of liquids on the tray and it requires at least two hands to bear the weight and balance. "Sir, please help yourself." Behind this polite response really is a whole lot of fierceness. And if that's not irritating enough? Try having a passenger hand over a ball of trash as you go with your tray of juices. Um, if you haven't noticed, I only have two hands. They're both in use.
Pet Peeve No. 4 - A moment when I wish I have legs of steel
Now, let's say the aisle extending from rows 54 to 70 is at least 40 feet long. Someone in row 55 requests for a pillow. You search at the nearest spot and finds none, trek all the way back down to the galley and hunt for one, then return to the passenger. "Actually, can I have two?" Make up your mind, lady. You return with another pillow, next her partner decides he wants one, too. There you go again, and that's a distance of 240 feet covered in just a matter of five minutes. Multiply that by hundreds of passengers and requests. No wonder, we crew often say "I just walked from Hong Kong to Vancouver." It's meant to be taken literally, in terms of miles by the fourth digit.
Pet Peeve No. 3 - A moment when I wish you'd just wet your pants
It's midway through the meal service. I'm bending up and down, reaching left and right, tugging in and out of the food cart when at the next moment I stand up, a passenger towers at the other end of your food cart, quietly demanding passage to the toilets. You've gotta be kidding me is usually what first comes to mind. Timing, people, timing. We're in the middle of the cabin, am I to drag my cart all the way down just to let you pass? First, this "runway" discriminates against full-figured bodies while the cart is in the way. Second, the cart is one heavy cow that is more difficult to maneuver than most think. Third and more importantly, little do passengers know, I must keep up to pace with the other aisle or else slews of consequences ensue. To avoid falling too far behind, I usually continue service until his or her presence becomes unbearable. Next time that happens, just be reminded that as I smile letting you squeeze through, I am really despising you.
Pet Peeve No. 2! - A moment when you wish you can BAWL
- "Sir, would you care for fish with rice, beef with potatoes, or pasta?"
- "Chicken."
Seriously, Jesus Christ. For the umpteenth time I repeat the menu as I go row after row; my smile is fading and my throat drying fast. Please don't make me repeat it once more than necessary. "Sir, we are serving fish, beef, or pasta today. Which one would you prefer?" "No chicken?" I suck in a deep breath, but really I'm throwing fits inside. For some reason, passengers who commit such crimes are always inevitably Filipino. I look to the other side of the aisle and fantasize leaving him without food. "Sir," I tear out a spare menu card as my voice incrementally raises, "(now read and listen!!!) IT'S FISH, BEEF, OR PASTA," still with a smile - an awkward one at best. The passenger then studies my menu in slow motion - even though he already has one - still searching for his imaginary chicken. "No chi..." "NO."
Pet Peeve No. 1 - The moment when you seriously lose it
Once again I go row after row, this time collecting trays. There's masticated food, melted ice-cream, greasy cutlery, sloshing liquids, displaced dishes and simply nastiness. But it's all good as this is just normal daily routine, as long as the trays fit snugly into the cart slots and nothing gets stuck ('coz that will classify as a disaster, not a nuisance). That's until I arrive at the next row where two - sometimes even three - passengers had stacked individual plastic-ware and trays into one neat pile. This, my friends, tops the list and warrants some speechless implosion.
Most passengers who commit this crime do so to free up and stow away their folding table; others do so with intentions to make our lives easier. But thanks, you've just tripled our workload, as trays only fit into a cart the way it comes out. I dare say that not one crew has shunned such obstacles in their flying career, and different crew react differently. Some deliberately and glaringly pick through and separate individual dish and tray before the passengers' eyes as a way of saying f-you; others mutter curses as they dump the pile on the floor and sort out the dirty mess. Either way, we will despise you forever. Please, try not to stack the dishes.
