The Air Stewardesses’ Footmen

Ch. 1: (of 6) The Subservience to Stewardesses Directive.

Ms Gina Summers, Chief Operating Officer of BlueSky Holidays, observed the hundred-plus male cabin crew assembled before her in our Gatwick Airport crew room. There was a glint in her eye, a satisfied sparkle of mission-accomplished success at seeing our troubled faces.

The reason for the summons of all cabin crewmen to attend the meeting at our Gatwick HQ was unannounced. But it had not been hard to guess. We knew which way the wind was blowing, and our experience of previous such meetings called by Ms Summers was all the reason we needed for our concern today.

Now, the anticipated ill-wind having blown through the packed crew room, those fears of worse to come were duly confirmed. But the fire-and-rehire employment terms outlined by Ms Gina Summers had exceeded the worst worries of the most pessimistic cabin crewmen. And now we were faced with an on-the-spot decision to make.

The top exec of the UK’s most popular holiday airline had delivered her take-it-or-leave-it option to cabin crewmen in her usual blunt style.

“Your revised conditions of employment are effective from today,” said Ms Gina Summers. “Therefore, those of you who feel unable to accept them are exempted from working the usual notice period and may resign at this meeting’s conclusion. You will receive a cheque for your severance pay, along with an attached letter of recommendation – that is, those of you considered worthy of one by your flight supervisors. Plus the generous bonus I mentioned. My special offer, payable only upon your resignation today… Now, to those of you who have decided to sign your revised contracts: This is your chance to reconsider. So before signing on the dotted line, be sure of your commitment to honour your new duty requirements under the Subservience to Stewardesses directive.”

Abruptly, almost all of my cabin crewman colleagues, the majority of whom had reported from their regional airport bases, vacated their seats and filed out of the crew room in mass resignation. For them, this was it: the final straw. The female-favouring COO had finally succeeded in evicting them from their much-loved jobs. The new terms and conditions as just laid out by Ms Gina Summers were beyond untenable. They were going to grab the COO’s special offer quit-money and run.

“Excellent!” said Ms Gina Summers brightly after the noisy departure of the irreconcilable cabin crewmen. Addressing now just the remaining few ‘committed’ cabin crewmen, Ms Summers said, “We have separated the wheat from the chaff; or, the dross from the gold. And so now Chief Stewardess Lois Lawson, attended by Senior Stewardess Donna Didsbury, will oversee and co-witness your contract renewal signatures.”

Vacating my seat in the back row, I joined the queue of the whittled down contingent of just ten or twelve BlueSky Holidays cabin crewmen.

Among them were my five remaining Gatwick-based colleagues. Terry and Darren were in their sky-blue uniform as I was, which meant their flight duty was imminent too. Terry was at the front of the line, and Darren was in front of me a few places. Tony, Glen and Greg were not in uniform. From a glance at the duty roster earlier, I knew the three of them were off-duty today but here to attend the meeting.

Having concluded his re-signing procedure, Terry was headed for the exit door when he spotted me at the end of the queue and came over. “Hey, Mason! It’s done! I’ve just signed my revised contract!” announced Terry, grinning all over his face. I couldn’t imagine why Terry was so cheerful.

“Well, I’m sure congratulations are in order, Terry,” I said sardonically.

“Which flight are you on, Mase?” Terry wanted to know.

“I’m on the 14:00 Cyprus flight, Terry. And, worst luck, I’m under Senior Stewardess Camilla.”

“Mase, it’s amazing how often you are under Camilla!”

“Oh, it’s not so amazing, Terry.”

I could see Terry wanted to question me about that. But he indicated his watch. “Tell me later, Mase. I don’t know what it is with you and Camilla, but there is some kind of turbulent undercurrent. But anyway, I have to go. I’m on the 13:45 Barcelona. I’m under Senior Stewardess Jasmine.”

“There are so few of us left now, Terry. Maybe a dozen cabin crewmen, all told. And I have to say, I am surprised to see Darren here, signing his revised contract. And which flight is Darren working, Terry, do you know?”

“Yes. Darren is on another short hop to Spain: the 13:50 Gerona. Darren is under Senior Stewardess Amelia. And if our flights return on time, Darren and I will be back before you – you are working the 14:00 Paphos, right? But I’ve a feeling we’ll see you in the crew room tonight, Mase. See you!”

As I moved forward upon my last remaining colleagues signing on the dotted line, I surmised that their reasons must be the same as mine: job satisfaction, financial commitments, and anxieties over job security in a climate of rising unemployment.

But I had a more compelling reason for signing on the dotted line.

If I became unemployed, my girlfriend Gemma would expect me to promptly relieve her of all household chores and more, as had been the case when I’d left education at eighteen for a job that fell through and, stuck on the dole for nearly a year, I couldn’t pay my fair share of the bills.

Domestic bliss for Gemma: she didn’t have to lift a finger for nearly a year. Didn’t so much as have to wash up a teacup, let alone cook or clean or go to the shops. A wakeful nightmare for me: a tiresome, tedious torment of housekeeping drudgery. Not least, answering Gemma’s beck-and-call bidding for cups of tea and snacks, especially at the weekend when she wasn’t working and home all day. My household chores, sternly overseen by my nitpicking taskmaster girlfriend Gemma, who, ruthlessly making me ‘earn my keep’, made the absolute utmost of her temporary advantage.

I didn’t want to endure another reign of Gemma’s domestic discipline, go back to living under her dominant domiciliary thumb.

I feared that in today’s depressed jobs market, the COO’s severance pay plus her one-time financial inducement to quit quietly might not last until I found other work. With the resultant resumption of my daily domestic grind as Gemma’s de facto live-in house servant.

But more to the point, I enjoyed my job, and the COO’s latest disimprovements and impositions today were still not enough to evict me from it.

So my on-the-spot decision had been ‘Yes’. Yes, to Ms Gina Summers’ take-it-or-leave-it ultimatum to cabin crewmen to sign a revised contract agreeing to abide by her new Subservience to Stewardesses directive.

But Gemma wasn’t going to like it. It was another argument in the making. Gemma already wanted me out of this job because it played havoc with our social life – as she’d vociferously argued and correctly predicted it would. Gemma’s mantra was that I should find a daytime job like hers.

Gemma’s tolerance threshold for last-minute disappointments, inconvenient plan changes, and indeed the inability to plan was long exceeded. Each new annoyance was one nudge nearer to Gemma’s tipping point – it was only a matter of time before she finally flipped.

Gemma had a fiery temper. Maybe it had something to do with her red hair; proverbially, redheads are noted for their tempestuous temperaments. And from experience, I could affirm Gemma fit the bill.

And now Gemma would flare up again when I told her this latest incendiary news of my revised contract’s new terms and conditions. The wage-cutting, the flat-rate overtime, the discontinued travel concessions, and most explosive of all: the Subservience to Stewardesses directive.

The rows of stackable seats, used by the 100-plus male cabin crew attending the meeting at the summons of BlueSky Holidays Chief Operating Officer, Ms Gina Summers, were being stacked and removed to return the crew room to normal.

The last in line, I finally came to the re-signing desk. Like two recruiting sergeants enlisting reluctant draftees (with the notable exception of Terry), Senior Stewardess Donna Didsbury was seated beside Chief Stewardess Lois Lawson.

Senior Stewardess Donna was in uniform: sky-blue blouse and above-the-knee skirt, dark nylons, and black three-inch heel uniform pumps. Except for air hostess Deborah – an absolute dreamboat – I didn’t know of an air hostess the uniform looked so good on. And I’d seen on the roster earlier that Deborah was working on Donna’s flight to Funchal today.

Senior Stewardess Donna and Air Hostess Deborah – Donna brunette and Deborah blonde – were ideal poster girls for BlueSky Holidays. Donna’s hair was long, and she wore it up in the elegant style favoured by many air hostesses for its imbued air of sophistication. Deborah’s hair was much shorter, styled in a concave bob, which really suited her. Donna was twenty-two, Deborah twenty-one.

Donna was an air hostess for BlueSky Holidays when I joined the company a year ago, at nineteen. So I’d worked with her; and, under her a few times since her recent promotion to Senior Stewardess.

“Good afternoon, Chief Stewardess Lawson, and good afternoon, Senior Stewardess Donna,” I said respectfully.

Senior Stewardess Donna said, “Well, well… last but not least. If it isn’t Cabin Crewman Mason Mallard.”

“Yes, Senior Stewardess Donna,” I said. I was hoping now that Donna didn’t remember the… incident. That it was long-forgotten.

“Do you recall, Mason, before I became a Senior Stewardess, I once asked you nicely if you would massage my tired, achy feet when we got back to our crew room? Hmnn? And you said, no, because it wasn’t a part of your job. And I said, I know it isn’t, but my feet are killing me. And you said, forget it.”

“Um… I, er…”

“So, this is this true?” said the BlueSky Holidays Chief Stewardess, Lois Lawson. “How could you be so unfeeling? Have you no gallantry? Would it have hurt you, Cabin Crewman, to kindly relieve the discomfort of a footsore female colleague who has just returned after a long and tiring shift on her feet wearing three-inch heel uniform pumps?”

“I, er… no. I’m very sorry.”

“it isn’t to me you should apologise,” Chief Stewardess Lois Lawson told me. “If I were to show you the bare soles of my feet, Cabin Crewman, you would see what a twenty-year career of both short-haul and long-haul air hostessing in attractive but unforgiving three-inch heel uniform pumps has done to them. Before Civil Aviation Authority flying hours rules were so restrictive, we had to do long-haul non-stopover turnarounds. Sometimes to America – trans-Atlantic tootsie torture, we used to call it. But let me tell you, it was not a joking matter. Before we were halfway back on the return flight, some of us were going out of our minds from footsoreness. Not, for us, was the dreamed-of luxury of overnight or longer stays on expenses in quality hotels enjoyed by hosties working for the more prestigious airlines. Let me tell you: Our feet were killing us!”

“I’m, er… very sorry to hear that, Chief Stewardess Lawson.”

“Are you, Cabin Crewman Mason? I don’t think so. I had somehow imagined that today’s cabin crewmen were more gallant. But I see now that nothing has changed. Today’s cabin crewmen are just as unsympathetic, just as indifferent to our suffering. And here is the proof: Look how few of you have signed a revised contract today because of the new Subservience to Stewardesses directive. Oh, let me tell you, Cabin Crewman Mason, I wish the Subservience to Stewardesses initiative was introduced in my day! As soon as we arrived back in our crew room, do you know what I would have done? I would have ordered a cabin crewman to kneel before me and massage my tired and achy feet!”

“So, Mason,” resumed Senior Stewardess Donna, “after listening to the Chief Operating Officer Ms Gina Summers’ announcement, do you fully understand the changes implemented by management? That new, stewardess-friendly ground rules have been introduced and are in force from today for cabin crewmen who have signed their revised contracts?”

“Yes, Senior Stewardess Donna. I understand. And I am ready to sign.”

Chief Stewardess Lois Lawson said, “Well, you seem resolved in your decision, Cabin Crewman Mason. But I must be satisfied that you are compatible. I must bear in mind what I have just learned from Senior Stewardess Donna of your ungallant past behaviour, your unsympathetic attitude toward your footsore female counterparts. So, before I let you sign your revised contract, I want to hear you say it. Mason: What will your future attitude be towards any BlueSky Holidays air hostess who asks you for a post-flight foot massage in our crew room?”

I paused to recall the exact wording of Chief Operating Officer Ms Gina Summers’ Subservience to Stewardesses directive.

“First and foremost, I must at all times be agreeable. I must promptly comply with any and all foot massage requests from my air hostess colleagues, and I must observe strict silence while performing their post-flight foot service as instructed, Chief Stewardess Lawson.”

“Well, Mason,” said Senior Stewardess Donna. “Nice to know you were so attentive to Ms Summers. And, most important, you remembered the revised-contracted cabin crewman’s one-word motto: ‘Agreeable’.”

“Yes, most impressive,” agreed Chief Stewardess Lois Lawson.

Senior Stewardess Donna said, “All right, then. That’s it. I believe Chief Stewardess Lawson and I are both satisfied. So here, Cabin Crewman Mason, use my pen to sign your revised contract, witnessed by Chief Stewardess Lois Lawson and me.”

I had one of my own, but Senior Stewardess Donna’s BlueSky Holidays logoed ballpoint pen seemed the more apt with which to sign my revised contract. So I signed on the dotted line, sealing my foot-serving fate.

“Well, that’s twelve of you, newly signed up, Cabin Crewman Mason,” Chief Stewardess Lois Lawson told me as she put my signed revised contract in an official BlueSky Holidays folder along with the eleven others. “You and five others, based here at Gatwick. And the other six, now returning to resume duty at their regional bases at Stansted, Birmingham, Manchester, Cardiff, Belfast, and Glasgow airports.”

Chief Stewardess Lois Lawson placed the official BlueSky Holidays folder into her sky-blue leather executive briefcase, closed the lid and pressed shut the catches, which locked with a snap of finality on the fates of the twelve remaining BlueSky Holidays cabin crewmen.

Ms Gina Summers was based at Gatwick Airport. But she spent most of her time visiting resorts affiliated with BlueSky Holidays. Before today, I’d only seen Ms Summers at the airport, at meetings such as today’s, or on TV, as it was the glamorous personage of the COO herself who fronted BlueSky Holidays commercials. So our paths had never crossed until now.

Ms Gina Summers was beautiful, especially when tanned golden from her latest excursion to the sunshine. In her presence, I knew now just how charismatic she was.

It must have been the mixture of charisma, beauty, and authority that I found Ms Gina Summers so utterly unsettling. In her early thirties, Ms Summers stood about five feet nine inches, had a fabulous figure and the shapely, well-toned legs to go with it, which were customarily bare and usually tanned golden. Her eyes were blue, and her crowning glory was her long platinum blonde hair that made her so instantly recognisable.

“Are you finished here now, Lois?” Ms Summers inquired of the Chief Stewardess. Ms Summers had walked over to join us after seeing my former cabin crewman colleagues off the premises. Some of whom had put away the rows of stackable seats at her request before they left for the final time; though Ms Summers had just induced them to sack themselves, she was a woman who it was hard to say no to.

“We should be going, Lois,” Ms Summers said. “My flight to Madeira leaves soon; I wouldn’t want to have to hold it up. I’m spending three days there, reviewing the Golden Sands, the brand-new five-star all-inclusive hotel complex. Hard work, but someone has to do it.”

“Yes, Gina, I’m sure. I only wish that I could go along to assist you. But yes, Gina, I’m all finished up. And I am delighted to tell you that it was a highly successful exercise. Voluntary male redundancy on an unprecedented scale. Even better than we’d hoped, Gina.”

“Even better than we’d hoped? Now you have me worried, Lois. I hope we haven’t overdone it; we want to winnow them, but not to the point of extinction. So what are the cabin crewman figures reduced to now, Lois?”

“Actually, we have overreached our ideal air hostess/cabin crewman ratio of one cabin crewman per flight. From over a hundred in total, we now have just twelve cabin crewmen on our books. A docile and dutiful dozen, you could say. As it happens, six of them are each stationed at one of our regional bases, which has worked out perfectly. Oh, they will be in demand – I can imagine our hosties there vying to have their solitary cabin crewman working on their flight! Cabin crewmen are now so under-numbered that they have gone from no one to someone, from nonentity to novelty. Cabin Crewman Mason Mallard, here, along with just five remaining colleagues, is based with us here at Gatwick.”

Chief Operating Officer Ms Gina Summers offered her hand and, such was the majesty of the woman, I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to shake it or was required to kiss it. Ms Summers solved my dilemma by taking my hand firmly in hers. “Congratulations, Cabin Crewman Mason, on being one of the few to pass my new Subservience to Stewardesses directive qualification. I knew that not many of you would. Well, good riddance to them; to your now, former colleagues, who felt themselves to be above performing a post-flight foot massage for their footsore female counterparts. Did you take naturally to flying, Cabin Crewman Mallard?”

I must have made a good impression, I thought. The ice maiden COO of BlueSky Holidays was joking with me. I was starting to feel more at ease. But before I could reply in a similar jokey vein, Chief Stewardess Lois Lawson clipped my wings before I could get off the ground, as it were.

“Gina, what I can tell you is that Cabin Crewman Mason didn’t take naturally to massaging his female colleagues’ tired and achy feet upon their return to the crew room after a long and tiring flight duty. Senior Stewardess Donna says he flatly refused her polite request. Donna had virtually begged him, and in his callous indifference to her suffering when she told him her feet were killing her, he still said no. Gina, I hope I have done the right thing in allowing Cabin Crewman Mason to sign a revised contract. First and foremost, he must be agreeable. I had my doubts, and I raised questions as to Mason’s agreeability. But I have full confidence in Senior Stewardess Donna, who told me earlier that she is sure of Mason, that his previous disobligation to her was not disinclination but merely from awkward shyness, and she had no hesitation in recommending his revised-contracted reinstatement.”

The warmth gone from her voice, her hand gone from mine, Chief Operating Officer Ms Gina Summers said, “Cabin Crewman Mason, you had better remember your contractual commitments to the Subservience to Stewardesses directive. There is no place for disinclination, no room for disobligation – only agreeability. And you should be aware that I will be scrutinising cabin crewman performance closely. Filed by your flight supervisors, the Cabin Crewman Conduct Report has the provision also to encourage the remarks and judgements of your air hostess colleagues. Trust me: you do not want to be summoned to my office. So, be warned. Do not disappoint me. I shall be monitoring you, looking for solid evidence of reform in your attitude – a vast improvement in your agreeability.”