Writing Boots

On communication, professional and otherwise.

Glue-sniffers aren’t what makes Southwest Southwest

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As all fliers know, the employees of most airlines are a vortex of three hatreds:

Hatred of customers (for always being "right" while simultaneously being such Mr. and Mrs. Magoos) … hatred of their fellow employees (for being surly, uncooperative union goons just like they are) … and hatred of themselves (for being stuck in this once-glorious, now grim industry).

And the consequences of this perfect lather of loathing? Just the latest example came during Super Bowl Sunday, when United Airlines dispatchers refused to update pilots on the score of the game, so passengers had to fly in senseless ignorance.

The very same weekend I happened to be flying Southwest Airlines to and from New Orleans, and I witnessed the following small miracle:

A Southwest customer-service agent was at working the desk at a gate, and she was not having a very good day. (Not all Southwest employees are sniffing glue throughout their shift.)

She was being curt with customers, and when they left after asking their dumb questions, she rolled her eyes.

I stood nearby reading a book, as a couple of Southwest pilots walked up. One of them observed that it looked like she was "stuck" there behind that desk. Without a smile, she allowed that she was. He asked her if he might get her something to drink. Again unsmilingly, she said that might be OK.

"What'll you have?" he asked.

"Where are you going?" she asked, not wanting to put him out because putting him out would require expressing gratitude.

"Where do you want me to go?" he insisted, at which point she said she wouldn't mind having an iced tea, sweet with lemon, from the McDonald's, a little ways up the concourse.

"You got it," he said, and walked off to get the tea.

And she smiled, just a little.

And I smiled, a lot.

That's always been the thing about Southwest that impressed me more than the bouncy, jouncy, Kool-Aid drinking would-be comics in the workforce. It's the real, honest, regular Southwest people who are working a repetitive, high-stress job, and doing so with humanity, with emotional intelligence and, albeit sometimes grudging, a sense of humor.

The idea of a Southwest employee refusing to tell a pilot the score of a football game is preposterous. It's just about exactly as preposterous as a United pilot coaxing a sour gate agent into letting him buy her a sweet iced tea.

Why should frequent flyers get the best seats?

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A communication consultant I've known for years, a good guy and a moderate liberal, grouses that despite his status as a million-mile flyer with United Airlines, he gets stuck in the middle seat on the back of the plane.

Well, United sucks like a bucket of ticks, so argument there.

But I've always been troubled by the sense of entitlement that people who fly a lot feel, just for flying a lot. Granted, the airlines encouraged this sense, by inventing the term "Frequent Flier" and flogging it as if it implies some social virtue, like "Hard Worker," or "Straight Shooter."

But really, all "Frequent Flier" means is either that you are rich and able to fly around a lot, or that you have to travel a lot for your work.

But here's what it also means (everywhere but United, apparently): You get priority over "infrequent fliers." (They ought to have a catchy name too. Let's call them, "Rare Birds.")

You get to zip past them at the check-in counter and you get the best seats on the plane.

And who are the Rare Birds? By and large, they are people who live a more modest existence than the Frequent Flier—they don't have money for lots of vacations, and they hold local jobs in a global economy.

I'm not asking Frequent Fliers to feel sorry for the Rare Birds. I'm not even asking them to stop feeling sorry for themselves. (I hate business travel and am grateful I don't have to do it often.)

I'm just asking why they think the Chicago shlub who saved a few hundred bucks to go visit his cousin in Pittsburgh should be stuck in the middle seat instead of them?