I spend a lot of time on airplanes and just had a trip that consisted of two very different flights.
A lot was identical about the two. Same kind of plane, with three attendants and two pilots, and the same airline. Both flights were the same length and same time of day. Both were on time.
Yet one was pure YUCK, while the other was YUM. What accounts for the difference? It was the decision of one person to be of profound service to those around him.
The lead flight attendant on the outbound flight was tired. I don’t just mean she needed sleep. She was clearly tired of her job, tired of all of us faceless, needy passengers. Frankly, she seemed more than a little tired of life.
She did her level best to bring us all along with her. Sure enough, within the first ten minutes of the flight, her dour announcements and clear irritation had us all sitting in a quiet funk.
I arrived at my destination and without even thinking about it began paying the bad vibes forward. My voice was tired and my sentences clipped as I interacted with others.
After about ten minutes, I became aware of what had happened and snapped out of it. I knew that most of the 200 people on that plane were still infecting others with the virus, sneezing their bad moods onto everyone they ran into, possibly not even knowing why.
How much damage that one sourpuss ultimately did is anyone’s guess.
But despite all the similarities, the trip home could not have been more different. On this leg, the head attendant, a thirty-ish man with a mischievous grin, set the tone with his first announcement:
“Ladies and gentlemen, on behalf of the entire crew, I am SO excited to welcome you aboard Flight 4464, nonstop service to the beeeautiful cities of Minneapolis and St. Paul!”
There was a momentary lull in conversation throughout the cabin. We all scanned for sarcasm and found none. He sounded genuinely pleased to welcome us aboard.
Some will miss the point, arguing that nobody could be glad to see a planeload of grumpy passengers placed in his charge for two hours. Here’s the point they are missing: By declaring himself happy to be with us, he MADE us nicer to be with. It’s self-fulfilling.
He continued on the mike as we taxied away from the gate. “Please direct your attention to my ex-wife and her attorney as they demonstrate the safety features of this plane.”
The two attendants gasped and blushed. A ripple of laughter went through the cabin.
“Tonight we will be flying at a cruising altitude of thirty-three thousand feet.” He said “thousand” in an excited stage whisper, as if to remind us just how astonishing that is. And you know what? Mission accomplished.
“In the event of a loss of cabin pressure, oxygen masks will magically appear before you. No one is quite sure how this happens, but it does, and that’s all that matters.”
By the time we arrived in Minneapolis, we were all smiling and chattering happily. One person had chosen joy, had chosen to see his job as one of profound service to others. In the process, he made his own job more pleasant, more engaging, more joyful.
And just as surely as the sourpuss had the rest of us paying the negative forward, you know that Minneapolis/St. Paul was a happier place the night we returned because of the 200 people one man sent joyfully out into it.
Roxanne