A decently dressed Caucasian woman stands inside the lavatory with the door wide open, gazing blankly at the toilet bowl. At the busiest peak of our meal service, a colleague of mine nominates me to go check up on her. What can it be, and how is it that a guy assists a woman in the loo?
- "I... dropped my phone into the toilet," the lady utters. She almost seems too composed for a tragedy of this sort.
-"Oh no," I immediately react empathetically, "I hope it's not an iPhone!" I later thought that was one of the most stupid remarks I have ever made. Any mobile phone dropped in a john deems a tragedy, albeit a comical one.
I peek into the gaping black hole for any signs of her device. Wow... that is a huge serving of urine, lady. A gallon, maybe. But no phone is in sight. Embarrassed, we both stare helplessly at the pool of still liquid, she still in disbelief of her loss and I wondering to what extent "going the extra mile" extends.
Truth is, the phone has already slipped through the throat of abyss, and chances of retrieval is near zero. In situations like this, is my role one to put up a heroic show of rescue, or one to provide emotional support while delivering the bad news? Failing to think of anything more comforting to say, I choose to be the bearer of bad news, like surgeons who could not resuscitate a dying patient. "I'm afraid it's not very likely that we could fish the phone out as it's a huge vaccuum tank underneath..." The lady grimaces at the image of her cellular buried in a pit of feces.
-"Do you think that the phone will still work even if I get it back?" Good call, and we all know the answer. "Is there anything that we can use to see if it's in there? Something... long? " Well, for reassurance purposes it doesn't hurt to at least try. I dash to the galley to fetch a foot-long plastic stick - but here's the catch - will I have to get down and dirty, or is this completely out of my scope of responsibility?
I gingerly hand over the stick, and the lady seems reluctant to take it. Uhh... Just at this state of limbo, my colleague comes into rescue. She passes her a pair of plastic gloves along with the stick, "I'm sorry we can't help you to dig in the toilet as we are handling food." Simple and straightforward, and my colleague rushes off the scene back to her task.
I linger uneasily as the woman pokes at the black hole flooding with her own urine. Learning something new each day, I think to myself, phew. In efforts of not seeming apathetic before disappearing, I add, "I'm really sorry that this happened." And off I go, lamenting over the hundreds of contacts and messages and photos now interred in a pile of inflight crap.
[Any thought or comments? Share with me!]
- "I... dropped my phone into the toilet," the lady utters. She almost seems too composed for a tragedy of this sort.
-"Oh no," I immediately react empathetically, "I hope it's not an iPhone!" I later thought that was one of the most stupid remarks I have ever made. Any mobile phone dropped in a john deems a tragedy, albeit a comical one.
I peek into the gaping black hole for any signs of her device. Wow... that is a huge serving of urine, lady. A gallon, maybe. But no phone is in sight. Embarrassed, we both stare helplessly at the pool of still liquid, she still in disbelief of her loss and I wondering to what extent "going the extra mile" extends.
Truth is, the phone has already slipped through the throat of abyss, and chances of retrieval is near zero. In situations like this, is my role one to put up a heroic show of rescue, or one to provide emotional support while delivering the bad news? Failing to think of anything more comforting to say, I choose to be the bearer of bad news, like surgeons who could not resuscitate a dying patient. "I'm afraid it's not very likely that we could fish the phone out as it's a huge vaccuum tank underneath..." The lady grimaces at the image of her cellular buried in a pit of feces.-"Do you think that the phone will still work even if I get it back?" Good call, and we all know the answer. "Is there anything that we can use to see if it's in there? Something... long? " Well, for reassurance purposes it doesn't hurt to at least try. I dash to the galley to fetch a foot-long plastic stick - but here's the catch - will I have to get down and dirty, or is this completely out of my scope of responsibility?
I gingerly hand over the stick, and the lady seems reluctant to take it. Uhh... Just at this state of limbo, my colleague comes into rescue. She passes her a pair of plastic gloves along with the stick, "I'm sorry we can't help you to dig in the toilet as we are handling food." Simple and straightforward, and my colleague rushes off the scene back to her task.
I linger uneasily as the woman pokes at the black hole flooding with her own urine. Learning something new each day, I think to myself, phew. In efforts of not seeming apathetic before disappearing, I add, "I'm really sorry that this happened." And off I go, lamenting over the hundreds of contacts and messages and photos now interred in a pile of inflight crap.
[Any thought or comments? Share with me!]
