A few weeks ago, I reported on my significantly delayed United Airlines flight to Lithuania. Many people were impatient and even angry about the delay, which turned out to be nine full hours. The anger could easily have been averted had the airlines provided frequently updated information. However, that did not happen. No one really understood why there was a delay except for "technical problems," and no one knew when the flight would take off or a new plane and crew found. As time wore on, patience on the part of most passengers wore out. Courtesy on both sides deteriorated. Many unkind words were spoken, and grumpy passengers stomped onto the plane when it finally arrived.United failed to meet customer need because the airlines representatives failed to ascertain it. I had my ticket re-done appropriately for my needs at the Red Carpet Club. The new set of flights would have me staying overnight in Frankfurt and taking the morning flight to Vilnius, where I would be met by a driver from the university for the 4-hour drive to Klaipeda (or I could have taken the morning bus there). When I reached Frankfurt, however, a Ms. Leimbach, who met the plane, called my name and thrust new tickets into my hands that would have me leaving Frankfurt within the hour, arriving in Vilnius at 1:00 in the morning -- without any hotel reservations in a climate that was well below zero and an airport that closed over night. I would have been out of the street, in the cold, with no place to go. I refused the tickets, telling Ms. P. Leimbach that I had the set that I needed from the San Francisco club. She informed me that those had been re-done and waived me off. I tried to explain the situation, that Vilnius was not my final destination, but she was not willing to listen and moved on to the next passenger, for whom, hopefully, she was not going to create a similar crisis.
With ongoing tickets on Lufthansa, I made my way to the Lufthansa ransfer desk, and explained the situation to a very nice lady whose name I should not have forgotten but have. She understand completely and restored the original changed tickets that I had received in San Francisco. I happily stayed overnight in Frankfurt, caught the morning plane to Vilnius, and met my driver exactly 24 hours later than planned. All was well.
I am going to write to the president of United Airlines. It is not difficult to deal with angry people. My son Shane, as a 15-year-old working the complaint counter at Sears knew how to do it. He adopted the attitude that it was not his problem, and he did not make it his problem. He patiently waited until customer calmed down. If the customer was having difficulty calming down, he would tell the customer that he sincerely wanted to help but could not do anything while the customer was angry. Almost always, customers would calm down because they wanted to be helped. The major difference between my 15-year-old and the older adult airline representatives was attitude. My son wanted to help so was willing to wait for the customer to work through his/her anger and be ready to be helped.
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One should never judge others as I have done to some extent above with the passengers and airlines representatives from my United flight because judgment has a habit of coming home to roost. On an Alaskan Airlines flight from Seattle to San Francisco last Saturday afternoon returning from Anchorage (see my brief comment on 7 Quick Takes Friday), the gate agent would not let me carry on my backpack, claiming it was too big. Mind you, I have carried that bag on hundreds of flights and hundreds of thousands of air miles on nearly every American carrier and many foreign carriers over the past 4-5 years I have owned it. It is the perfect carry-on because it rolls when I don't want anything on my back and has nicely padded straps for carrying when I need my hands free. Had I not had both my computer and some breakable items in it, I would have cheerfully have handed it over, but the reality was that I did not have those things and the agent's insistence that the bag would not fit under the seat or in the overhead when I had had flown with it on much smaller planes, as well as on the arriving Alaskan Airlines plane of the same size, made me anything but cheerful.
Since the gate agent would not even let me on to try, I unpacked the computer and put the breakables in a plastic bag, which I fortunately had, handed the backpack to the agent, and, with an armful of loose goods, found my seat. Placing them on the floor, I somewhat grumpily sat down in my seat.
Once seated, I pulled out of my purse a wonderful book I have been reading lately, Abandonment to Divine Providence, but I could not get past 1-2 sentences without needing to go back and re-read it. This happened several times before I realized that I was frustrated.
Wait a minute! I had given up frustration for Lent. That had lasted only four days?! I dissolved into prayer, and the frustration dissolved!
Now I get to start over. I guess I am giving up frustration for Lent. I'm just not very good at the "giving up" part yet. Well, as they say, practice makes perfect, and I suspect that I am going to get a lot of practice on this one.
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I had written the above continuation of this blog post on the flight to Seattle. Little did I realize how quickly I would have another opportunity to practice. Upon arrival, my gate-checked bag was nowhere to be seen. I queried Mr. Wendell, the agent meeting the plane, about it. He asked for my orange tag. I did not have an orange tag. I had a white tag.
"Oh," Mr. Wendell said, "then you need to pick it up on the baggage carousal."
Clearly, that was not going to work. I was transferring from Alaskan Air to United Airlines (Yes!), and, with Alaskan Airlines arriving a half-hour late and United being in a different terminal, where I still had to get my boarding pass, I had just barely enough time to grab the train between terminals (I usually walk the distance, but this time walking would not be possible), get my boarding pass from the ticket counter, clear security, and get to the departure gate. I explained this to Mr. Wendell, who asked for my claim tag, saying he would call and have the backpack transferred to the United Monterey flight.
Off I ran to the airport train, together with one of the senior managers, who works for me and who had been traveling with me. I explained to him the situation with my backpack, noting in retrospect that I had told Mr. Wendell that I was taking the United flight to Monterey but had not told him the flight number! Knowing of my decision to give up frustration for Lent, the senior manager commented, "But you're not frustrated, right?"
No, actually, I had put the opportunity to be frustrated in abeyance until I could talk to a United agent. At the check-in counter, the ticket agent could not find any record of my bag. Since Mr. Wendell had my claim number, there was no way to search for it in the computer. She suggested talking to the baggage handlers planeside.
Off we ran again, clearing security quickly, thanks to our super-frequent-flyer status. We dashed up to the gate on time. The plane, though, was not on time. We would have to wait for an hour.
Hm... Another chance to check on my backpack while there were still options, should it be sitting on the Alaskan Airlines baggage carousal rather than in the United cargo hold, waiting for the transfer. I suggested that we wait in the Red Carpet Club. (When one travels as frequently as we do, the annual membership fee is well worth the reduced wear and tear on our bodies.) It was evening, and we had not eaten all day. The senior manager could chow down some healthy munchies -- carrots, celery, and fruit. I could check with the club's ticket agent as to the status of my bag.
The club's ticket agent could find no information at all in the computer. I had three options: (1) travel as planned, (2) stay in San Francisco and have Donnie pick me up there (a long drive but I do fly from San Francisco upon occasion), or (3) take the 10:00 flight (vice 7:30) and check the carousal just in case.
The best choice was unclear. If Mr. Wendell had successfully transferred my bag, #2 and #3 meant that I would be in San Francisco and my bag in Monterey. If he had not been successful, #1 meant I would be in Monterey and my bag in San Francisco. Whether Mr. Wendell had been successful was a missing piece of information, critical to making a logical, informed decision. Complicating the matter was the fact that although I had taken out my computer and was carrying it with me, I had not taken out the cord. (Note to self: buy a spare cord for traveling.) In addition, there was no identification on the bag (it was a carry-on, after all) except a handwoven purple strap from Korea with the letter B. So, if the bag was left in San Francisco on the Alaskan Airlines carousal, no one would know to whom the bag belonged. Gate-side claim tags have no names on them, and the numbers are not entered into the computer. You are supposed to pick it up on de-planing because it is traveling with you. Supposedly. Sigh!
I called Donnie to tell him about the plane delay. He and Doah were about to set out for dinner. We decided that he would wait for my next call before heading south to Monterey or north to San Francisco. He also mentioned that the backpack had a stuffbak zipper pull, offering a reward to the finder through the stuffbak 800 number. (Stuffbak has brought three lost cell phones back to me, as well as a suitcase lost by American Airlines and found by an airport janitor.) That reassured me, and I decided to get on the planned 7:30 flight to Monterey.
As I boarded the flight, I saw that the bag was not on the planeside cart. I talked to the baggage handlers, who said that it might have been loaded already but they had no way of knowing. No frustration yet. What would be would be, and the young Flemish man in the seat next to me was a pleasant co-traveler. Besides, I had more important things to worry about: the pilot on this very small, propeller-driven plane looked younger than my son!
The plane arrived on time. I disembarked with the other passengers and walked over to the plane-side baggage cart. Nope. No backpack of mine there. Well, there was the carousal possibility. The bags came up somewhat slowly, but soon they were all out. All, except my backpack.
I did get a chance to reflect on what might cause the feelings of frustration. I came to the conclusion at that point frustration occurs when you have a problem but no resources (money, time, authority, help) to resolve it on one's own. So, enlisting the help of others would be important.
Since Alaska Airlines does not fly into Monterey, there was nothing to be done except return to San Ignatio and call the Alaskan Airlines 800 number and hope that I would find that needed help. When I called, I was given the Alaskan Airlines baggage office number at the San Francisco airport. I called. No answer. I called again. No answer. I called a third time. No answer. I left three messages. No one called me back.
Giving up on that approach, I called the 800 number again. As the woman on the other end, Zena, began to put me off again, I told her she could not pass me off to someone else because that would frustrate and I am not supposed to get frustrated. So, she stayed on the line and called the San Francisco baggage office -- with the same results I got. She eventually reached a janitor, who put her online with a supervisor. (What is it with these janitors who are doing a better job than the baggage handlers at locating bags?)
To make an already long story no longer, I got my backpack back. Mr. Wendell, when he realized that my bag would not make the next flight out, realized that he had no idea to whom the bag really belonged while I, who did know, did not have the claim number. He compared the Alaskan Air and United manifests and determined that I was the only femal passenger transferring to United to Monterey. Once he had my name, he entered the claim number with a red flag on my ticket information in the computer so that I would have the claim number if I needed it. (I think Mr. Wendell would make a great FBI or CIA employee!) Zena then followed the number, found the bag on the 10:00 United flight, and I went and picked it up at the tiny Monterey airport the next morning, per agreement with Zena.
Now, I am also going to write a letter to the president of Alaskan Airlines. In this case, it is to say thank you for superior service to two creative and dedicated employees: Mr. Wendell and Zena.
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Yes, indeed, attitudes does count. Mine, too!
