There were thirty-eight of us, “trainees” we were called, all hand picked by Alaska Airlines to come and be a part of their training program for newly hired flight attendants. I was hired in February, along with 5 other people, out of a group of 100. The other thirty-three were hired at different locations ranging from Los Angeles to Alaska, and we were all brought together on April 2nd in Seattle, Washington to begin our six week training program.
We soon found out that we were thirty-eight people, all different, chosen from among thousands who interviewed. Thousands. I sincerely couldn’t sit in my seat that first day of class without being blown away by the fact that I was chosen to be a part of something that thousands of other people had applied to be a part of. I was distracted that day, not by my often wandering thoughts, but by my gratitude. I just couldn’t believe that I was there and I couldn’t stop thanking God for allowing me to be. I knew I couldn’t have gotten there on my own, and I knew that given how slim the pickins’ were, I wasn’t selected by some mere coincidence. I knew that God wanted me there, so there I was. And I was grateful.
Prior to that first day of class, I remember taking a shuttle to the grocery store the night before. Almost all of us had checked into the hotel that day and I couldn’t have been more aware of just how much I didn’t fit in. I didn’t have the nice clothes that all the other girls (and guys) had, I didn’t have the voluminous hair or the perfectly clear skin, I didn’t have a fancy handbag or classy jewelry. I felt like an outsider. I had flat hair, blotchy skin (my camera is on a soft skin setting so you can’t tell), a wrinkled plaid shirt, a ring I made out of a dollar bill, holes in my shoes, and a Spiderman wallet. It was obvious to me that I didn’t look the part of being a flight attendant. Being surrounded by some of those people, who I hadn’t yet gotten to know, I couldn’t stop thinking about what I didn’t have. Some of it I didn’t want, but when I’m honest, some of it I did. I wanted to look as pretty as the other girls and I wanted to be looked at the way other people looked at them.
We boarded the shuttle and as girls were laughing and talking about things I was judging them for talking about (I’m a work in progress), I remember thinking, “what am I doing here? Why am I here? You wanted me here, right Lord? I know you did, oh Jesus, help me.”
I was intimidated, to say the least. All around me were people who looked like they had been plucked right out of a magazine, and there I was, wanting at least a subscription to the magazine but not being able to afford it.
The following morning I put on a pair of high heels I bought at Goodwill for seven dollars, a dress shirt I borrowed from a friend, and panty-hose that my sister had left at my house while she was visiting on a business trip. I looked at my reflection in the mirror and wondered who the hell I was looking at, but I told myself that my clothes didn’t define me, even now. A “conservative, working watch” was a requirement for training and as I strapped my new watch around my wrist that morning I thanked the Lord that I was able to find it on sale for only four dollars, even if I wasn’t sure how to read it. I felt physically uncomfortable as I couldn’t recall the last time I was sucked into a pair of panty-hose, not to mention I felt naked without a beanie on my head, but I reminded myself that not wanting to wear a business suit was no reason to abandon the place where I believed God had called me. I walked wobbly toward the door and set out for the unknown, not knowing that part of the reason my high heels were so uncomfortable was because they were on the wrong feet. I would come to that discovery about five hours after breakfast.
Continental breakfast. Now that is something for me to get excited about. All the breakfast food that I want… and for free? Not even the discomfort of my heels were going to keep me from running in that direction. Knowing this would be my fate each morning made the notion of living in a hotel for the next six weeks all the more appealing. “Maybe I can do this,” I thought to myself as I stuffed a biscuit, a packet of peanut butter and two bananas into my bag for later. It didn’t take long for me to become a hoarder when I met the likes of the continental breakfast.
Upon arriving to class I met more pretty people. It is unfair of me to label them as such, seeing as I have since gotten to know many of them and I know that they are so much more than just a pretty face, but that first day without the substance of a story, I looked around the room at the beauty before me and wondered why I had been chosen at all. “Just breathe, JJ” I told myself, “you were chosen to be here… accept it and be confident in it. Above all, be yourself and be okay being yourself.” I tried to walk gracefully across the room in my Goodwill heels to the desk with my name tag on it, but the walk felt so long and all I could think was “they’re on to me.”
As time went on and we all got to know each other more, I let people in to knowing me a little more. I revealed the secrets of my borrowed wardrobe, my affection for football, my dislike for washing my hair everyday, and even my insecurities that surfaced at high volume just from standing next to some of the girls in the class. My roommate and I quickly became friends as we opened up to each other about our fears and our doubts along with our excitement for what was to come.
As per usual, it was only a matter of time before I channeled my insecurities into comedy. I might not have been the best looking in the class, but there was nothing I could do about that without extensive surgery, so I decided that I was going to make everyone laugh… and I did. I was dubbed the jokester or the class clown by pulling silly pranks, usually involving a fake cockroach, or hiding people’s coffee mugs and leaving ransom notes on their desks, or telling the president of the company that I used to be a cheerleader for the Dallas Cowboys. I loved getting a rise out of people, especially people in business suits. As laughter filled our classroom, whether I was involved in the cause or not, I began to feel more comfortable with everyone and less aware of my insecurities.
Weeks and weeks went by, most of which are filled with stories that require their own post, but for the sake of the purpose behind this post, I will skip ahead to week five.
We entered week five still being thirty-eight trainees. By Thursday we were down to thirty-seven. It came as a shock when we lost one of our classmates after she failed the swimming portion of our training program. We were only a week from graduation and she was let go. My heart broke for her, but I never got to tell her because she was pulled out of class before I could even say goodbye.
Come Friday morning a few people were still on edge about it. We had just finished a commands drill in which we shouted our commands in case of an emergency. As the last few people were finishing up, we noticed the “principal” come into the classroom and gather another classmate’s belongings. We all stared at each other as we knew what that meant but we didn’t understand why, or when the guy had even pulled out of class. No one saw it coming. The instructors said they would address the matter after we finished our written exam.
As each person finished up, we waited in the hallway for our exams to be graded. Everyone was talking about what had just happened and everyone was starting to get a little freaked out that people were being dismissed just a week before graduation. I was talking with a couple of girls and said how sorry I felt for the people who had to leave and commented on just how weird and crazy it all was. As if in unison they both chimed in with “you have nothing to worry about, JJ!” One of the girls continued on, “you are the last person who has to worry about leaving. Everyone loves you and you have a great personality.” I wanted to egg her on for more compliments, as my self-esteem was hanging just below normal, but I interjected with “Oh, I’m not worried about me!”
We all laughed as one of the girls said I was starting to sound cocky. “No, no,” I said, taking a more serious tone, “I’m not saying I’m not worried about me because I’m so great, I’m saying I’m not worried about me because my foundation and my hope does not rest in Alaska Airlines, therefore even if I am asked to leave I know I will be okay.” The girls nodded as if to agree, either that or to pacify me, but for some reason the thought just had me going, and I couldn’t stop… “Don’t get me wrong, this is a great company, and I would love this job, but my well being does not rest in it, and because my foundation is rooted elsewhere, I know I will be taken care of. I will be okay with or without this.” I had never felt so sure about something as I did in that moment, I truly believed that even though I was banking on this job for a lot of reasons, I would be more than okay without it.
The very moment I finished saying “I will be okay with or without this,” I had a tap on my shoulder. It was the “principal,” the head honcho of the program, the man you didn’t ever want to come a tapping on your shoulder because he was never the bearer of good news. I think his job title literally includes the words “must only deliver bad news,” which is unfortunate because he’s a nice man, someone you may even want to know, but someone whose office you want to avoid like the plague. In fact, on our first day of training, he came to introduce himself to our class and though he was polite, his very words were, “I hope I never see you in my office.”
So there I was, only seconds after claiming my foundation to be rooted in something greater than Alaska Airlines, being tapped on the shoulder by the very man who’s office I was “trained” to avoid, and he was asking me to follow him upstairs.
A wave of shock went over my body. As I followed behind him and passed some of my classmates they all looked at me as if to say “WHY are you following him?” Those I made eye contact with knew what following him meant, as did I, but it was obvious we were in shock as to why.
He and I were very quiet on the way upstairs. We said nothing to each other. The silence was so much louder than any amount of small talk we could have made. The trip to his office seemed to never end. I knew my fate, but my shock kept me thinking there must be some mistake. He asked me to have a seat and called another woman in. The woman had been to visit our class a few times, so I didn’t know her well, but what I knew, I liked very much.
The “principal,” as I will continue to call him (for the sake of hiding his identity from my family), informed me that a customer complaint had been filed regarding my service in first class on one of my training flights. I started to get nervous, and embarrassed, and racked my brain for what I possibly could have done so terribly that it warranted someone to write in about it.
I could think of nothing, and then he read the email.
I could see the woman’s face as he read it. I remembered the flight exactly. I tried to make her and her husband smile, but nothing I did seemed to impress them. I asked the head flight attendant for advice when interacting with customers like this on such a long flight (we were going to Austin, Texas). He and another flight attendant pointed out this couple specifically and said “these kind of customers are the worst.” “You could stand on your head and give them everything they wanted and they still won’t be happy. They think they are entitled to everything and then some. Tell you what,” the flight attendant said to me, “you just take care of the rest of the cabin, I’ll take care of them. Smile and be nice, but don’t worry about it.” So I did what he said. I was never rude, I didn’t ignore them, but I let him attend to them more. I still smiled and tried to joke, but they ignored me. When I watched how the flight attendant prepared the meals, I was reported by this woman as having my back to the cabin. She seemed annoyed when I would come to her, but complain I was ignoring her if I didn’t. I felt like I was in a no-win situation.
Despite that woman’s attitude, I remember my flight actually being really enjoyable because of my interactions with all of the other customers, as well as the other flight attendants. Everyone was encouraging me and telling me I was doing a great job. They even clapped at the end of the flight. I didn’t walk away from that trip discouraged by that one woman, I walked away thinking about the smiles on all of the other people’s faces.
Though I love to make people laugh, I realize that for as much as I want to, I will never be able to make everyone laugh… that’s what the story books call a perfect world. Nonetheless, I was encouraged after that flight because if even Bill Cosby says he can’t please everybody, then I know I can’t. I honestly think anyone who would have stepped in that woman’s path that day was going to get it, it “just happened” to be me.
So, on Friday morning, May the fourth (be with you), I was informed that I was being released from the flight attendant training program with Alaska Airlines. Without any consultation or insight from my fellow flight attendants, my classmates, my instructors, or myself, a decision was made based on five sentences from one angry customer.
I am not ashamed to say I did the best that I could, I can’t even say I would do anything differently, but for some reason, there was a lady on the plane who did not like me… so much so that she took the time to write an email to the company saying I wasn’t “fit for first class service.”
I most disappointed in the way it was handled. Assumptions were made and I was never given a chance to clarify before being asked to leave. I told the principal I knew it wouldn’t change the decision that had been made, but I would at least like the chance to speak on my behalf. As some of the shock was still shaking within me while I spoke, I couldn’t help but feel an abundance of peace and assurance that this was not a coincidence, a glitch, or a mistake.
The words I had shared with those girls in the hallway before being asked upstairs came over me, and I believed them just as fully in that moment without the promise of this job as I did previously in the moment with it.
So just like that, I was asked to leave. I am embarrassed (which I presume to be normal), but at the same time, I am proud, for I didn’t quit, and I know that I did the best I could. I have no “what ifs.”
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The reactions of my classmates and my instructors speaks volumes more for my character than that one woman’s complaint. I received an inflow of text messages, which I’m still receiving, of people who are devastated about me being gone. When the class found out I was let go, I was told people were crying and saying it wasn’t fair, that Alaska had made a huge mistake. ”Calm down guys,” I said, “I’m sure the state of Alaska had nothing to do with this.” Its been relayed to me that some pretty high up people in the company had to come in and talk to the class about it because they were in such shock. I think the class’s reaction to my being dismissed will cause them to handle a situation like this differently in the future. Unfortunately, I think I was made an example of.
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That said, I don’t actually think it is that unfortunate. The situation is too bizarre for me to think that this is anything other than God. I truly believe He led me to Alaska Airlines, and wanted me there for the amount of time that I was. As I said, I don’t think it a mistake, for just as much as He led me there, I believe He led me out. Even going into this job, I was somewhat unsure about doing it, but every door opened in its direction. I was a bit apprehensive, but I prayed everyday “Lord, I will keep walking through these open doors until you tell me to stop.” On Friday morning, He told me to stop… and I am proud to say it was not because I quit, but because God said my time had come. In retrospect, I know I was right where I was supposed to be the last five weeks, and though in this final week before graduation I find myself not at all where I thought I would be, I know I am right where I am supposed to be.
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Am I supposed to be in Portland? I don’t know. I’m not saying I know I’m right where I am supposed to be physically, but I know I am right where I am supposed to be in relationship to the Lord. I am in a place of trust and complete and utter dependence. I am in a place where I have never more fully believed that God is not just good, but good beyond what my mind can comprehend. I used to say “God is good,” because that’s what good Christians do, but there was always some small disconnect between the head and the heart. I think it is that very disconnect that God has been fusing over the last five weeks.
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I would be naive to think that the disconnect is fixed for good, or that I will never again question God (I’m too human for that), but in a moment where I don’t know much about what is going on, I do know that having empty hands while sitting before the Lord has never felt so fulfilling.
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