Fasten Your Seatbelts: A Flight Attendant's Adventures 36,000 Feet and Below (3 page)

hile reading the Sunday paper, I saw the ad in bold print:
Hiring Flight Attendants
. My mind raced.
Should I try again
?
What if I get rejected
?
Do I want to move somewhere else
? Deciding I had nothing to lose, I applied.

For weeks I eagerly checked the mailbox for the letter that would say, “You have been chosen for an interview with our airline.” Finally the letter arrived. Excitedly, I ripped it open. The letter provided the details for the interview time and place. I looked up at the sky where I saw a jet flying.
Wow, that could be me up there someday
.

At the time, I lived in Atlanta and was working for a mortgage banking firm that offered upper level career opportunities for women. When I told my supervisor of my decision to interview for the flight attendant position, he cautioned, “Are you sure you want to give up what we have to offer? You know you could make a lot of money in the future.” But I
knew in my heart that this might be my last chance to pursue my dream.

I flew to the city where the interviews were being held. This time, I wore a very expensive navy-blue suit with a crisp, white shirt. My nails were perfect and, of course, my hair was tucked in a professional French twist. This time I had the vision. There was no doubt in my mind:
I was going to become a flight attendant
.

The applicants were asked to take a pencil and write a short essay on why they wanted to become flight attendants. Next, an attractive female interviewer ushered six of us into a room to ask a few questions. I made sure I was the first, second or third person to answer the questions as I did not want to have the same response as the other interviewees.

“What is your main weakness?” was the first question.

“Sometimes it is hard for me to say no to friends and family,” I replied.

A girl sitting next to me who also wore a navy-blue suit was unfortunately too honest and said, “At times I feel unworthy and insecure.” I instinctively knew it was over for her.

The interviewer then asked, “If you were sitting in first class, whom would you like to sit next to and why?” Others responded with names like President Reagan or Mahatma Gandhi.

I had a longer answer. “I watch a certain soap opera and one of the female characters is rumored to be a male in real life. I would love to sit next to her or him and get the scoop.” They all laughed.

“Why do you want to become a flight attendant without using the words people or travel?”

Good question, I thought. “It fits my personality,” I said. I felt confident about my responses to the six questions.

The interviewer thanked us for our time. As I was walking out the door, she pulled me to the side and asked, “Would you be able to go to the medical department and take your physical today?”

“Yes!” I jumped up and down with joy on the inside but continued to be poised and professional.
Wow, this is it, I am on my way
!

As I proceeded with my paperwork to another building, I passed a pool with a large inflated raft floating on the water. It was the kind of raft one would see on an ocean occupied by survivors waiting to be rescued. Surrounding the pool were simulators of airplanes used during crew training. An inflated evacuation slide was attached to an opened airplane door. I began to feel nervous but continued walking to the medical department.

The first part of my exam was a hearing test. A female medical examiner led me into a tiny, windowless room. There, she
put huge ear phones on my head. If I were to hear any beeps, I would raise my hand. I listened intently to loud then soft beeps. At times I heard a sound so faint I wasn’t sure if it was even there, but I raised my hand anyway. Maybe this was just a stress test. If you were claustrophobic, you wouldn’t last long in that room.

After passing a vision exam along with a weight check, I was told the tests were over. The airline would inform me by mail regarding their hiring decision. I flew home to Atlanta exhausted.

nd so began the vigil. After two long weeks of gut-wrenching anticipation, a large manila envelope with an airline logo on it arrived. I tore it open and read the letter out loud. “You have been accepted for flight attendant training.” I screamed and ran into the house to share the good news with mom and dad and started packing my clothes for the next six weeks.

Little did I know those weeks would resemble boot camp. Fifty-two trainees attended our class: four of them would not make it to the end.

Along with the acceptance letter came three pages of airport codes. In two weeks, training would begin and all codes had to be memorized before we arrived. Those starting with the first three letters of a city — ATL for Atlanta, MIA for Miami — were easy to remember. Others like ORD for Chicago, MSY for New Orleans and SNA for Orange County were more difficult.

My first day of training wasn’t too bad. Each of the students had to stand in front of the classroom and tell a few informative facts about themselves. At the end of the day we piled into a van that took us to our home away from home: a nice enough hotel. Each of us shared a room with another trainee. It was a little scary to have a complete stranger as a roommate, but I was lucky to have one I liked. It was one of many adjustments to come.

During the job interview we were asked, “If you had to move to a new location, would you do it?”

“Yes,” We all agreed.

“If you were asked to cut your hair, would you do it?”

“Yes.” Again we all agreed in unison.

Now the time had come. Every Monday we had to pass a grooming and weight check. On the second Monday, the instructor asked, “Are you prepared to cut your hair?” Of course I said, “Yes,” but dreaded it. It took years to grow my hair down to my waist. She cut it off with one whack. My new look was now a perfect bob (chin length hair) that mirrored everyone else’s.

Some of the girls would starve themselves over the weekend in order to not exceed their weight limit. Our weight had to match our height’s profile. If we were 1 pound over, we were let go. In my 20s I was thin, so the weight checks were not
an issue for me. However, I really felt empathy for those who struggled with those weight restrictions.

Nights were consumed with studying. I wanted this job more than anything in the world. In the fourth week of training we attended a workshop on oxygen use. The instructor asked, “If you screwed the lid on the oxygen unit, would you turn it tightly or finger-tight?” I panicked, not knowing the answer. Common sense said tightly, but I was wrong. I’d received A’s on all my tests so far. Now, because of this incorrect answer, I felt something changed in the relationship between the instructor and me. I saw the look of uncertainty on her face and now felt like I was being observed warily for the first time. It was unnerving because several students had disappeared throughout training. None of us received any explanations as to where or why they had gone. Apparently, the instructors simply decided they weren’t flight attendant material.

I was sitting in the classroom when a female instructor entered. “Miss Churchill,” she said sternly, “You need to come with me.”
Oh no, not me
.

I waited for an hour or so outside the instructor’s office. Apparently she forgot I was there because when she saw me she simply said, “Oh, I just wanted to let you know you need to put more blush on your cheeks.” Not wanting to make any issues I simply replied, “No problem.” Flight attendant grooming
required that our lips had to be seen from across the room and our nails needed to match our lip color. The preferred color was bright red.

Anytime an instructor approached us, my group of friends and I laughed with each other pretending we were in an engaging conversation. The fact is we were stressed beyond description and exhausted from the amount of information being pumped into our heads.

We were taught how to deal with a variety of medical emergencies. This included epileptic seizures, bloody noses, upset stomachs, diabetic attacks, broken bones, fainting spells, and even death. When it came time to view the childbirth video, many of the students (especially the male trainees) turned their heads. They could handle emergencies like a heart attack or death, but not a video on childbirth. Go figure.

Halon or H2O extinguishers are used to fight the three classes of fire. We needed to know which type most effectively puts out each class of fire. For example, if it were a Class A or material fire, you would use the H2O extinguisher. A Class C or electrical fire required the Halon. To extinguish a fire, you must aim at the base of the fire, not at the flames. Our test was to gather around the fire pit and put out a fire. The flight attendants lined up in a mock demonstration and took turns practicing the use of the extinguishers.

On each flight, the flight attendants have an assigned, numbered position. This number dictates which cabin to work and what responsibilities you will have. The number one flight attendant always works first class and has the most interaction with the pilots. The number two position is in charge of the main cabin galley on all aircrafts. If it is a larger aircraft, more flight attendant positions are needed.

During our training, the aircrafts included the narrow-body 727-100, 727-200 and MD-9, (Super-80) and the wide-body A-300 airbus, DC-10, 757 and 767. We were required to memorize where the emergency equipment was located, how to open each exit door, and the commands for the different doors for each aircraft. A single door exit means passengers can evacuate one at a time. Dual doors allow two passengers to deplane simultaneously. Window exits can be used for passengers to walk out on the wing to escape. Some have slides attached to them, and some do not.

The evacuation command is specific for each type of aircraft and exit. At the end of the six week period, you must say the commands and open the windows and doors in front of the instructors. We refer these tasks as drills. Up to three attempts were allowed to successfully complete the drills on day one. If you did not say them perfectly after the third attempt, you had one last, desperate try remaining, which was
scheduled for the next day. Failure to achieve perfection resulted in termination.

I was exhausted!

With anticipation and trepidation, the moment of truth had arrived. It was time for our examination (drills). The trainees timidly walked into the training area filled with the simulator airplanes. I am a believer in going first and getting things out of the way, so I volunteered to do the commands for the window exit first. “Don’t take anything with you,” I shouted. “You stay on the wing, help the people out, send them that way.” “Step through, foot first.” The instructor took my paperwork and wrote that I did an outstanding job.
Whew!
On to the next aircraft.

When I initially took my medical exam, I noticed one of the slides on a simulator door deployed. Now I found out what it was used for; we had to jump onto the slide as if we were in a real evacuation. Somehow this slide was more intimidating than the slides we played on when we were children. The instructors gave us jumpsuits and footies to wear so we wouldn’t get hurt. It was my turn next. Knowing I was still being evaluated, I pretended to be brave and stood at the top of the exit.