su.per.nu.mer.ar.y
Adjective
present in excess of the normal or requisite number, in particular.
Noun
a supernumerary person or thing.
Synonyms
extra - additional - odd - superfluous - redundant
The supernumerary flights, or SNYs for short, were basically the training flights we had to go on before we embarked on our solo* flying careers.
During the SNYs, we were considered extra crew with inconsequential** work positions. We shadowed a full-fledged crew on these flights and tried to learn as much as much as we could. Each female crew is paired with one other batchmate and assigned to a couple of training flights. Male crew members completed their SNYs alone.
Some of my batchies were assigned flights to Europe/America (they were considered lucky), some to India/China (not so lucky) and others had regional turnaround flights (sway).
In October 2008, Lena and I operated flights to Seoul and Shanghai.
Outstation, the two of us had to share a room while other full-fledged crew each had their own room. I learnt later that many other airlines did not offer individual rooms to their crew (SNY or not) and did not put them up in 4/5 star hotels like my company did.
We had heard horror stories about “zapping” and “crew culture” from friends and during our time at the training school. But during these two flights, we were initiated into the crew culture and witnessed first-hand what being “zapped” meant.
The purser we met on our Seoul flight was alright but the purser on our Shanghai flight was a little crazy. He was screaming at the crew to speed up the service but especially at the two of us newbies.
Some people believe that being nasty is the best way to teach new crew. Stuck in a job they probably hate, they revel in what little power they have and enjoy it when people scuttle around them trembling with fear.
I believe that these people who seem to suffer from permanent PMS are either mentally disturbed or going through some kind of personal crisis (very likely a cheating spouse). How do people like that find partners anyway? Are their partners equally evil or have they been hoodwinked into thinking their spouse is an angel?
Perhaps they were ill-treated when they first started flying and now that they are more senior, they want others to suffer like they suffered. I hate people like that.
I do not advocate harsh and sadistic teaching methods. It is shocking that service staff can be so nice and patient to customers but when their backs are turned, they become monsters to their own colleagues. Pretentious much?
Luckily for us, most of the crew were nice enough. Some were exceptionally patient and taught us how to play our cards right, focus on our work and stay out of harm.
As junior crew, we were always expected to be half an hour early (to copy out flight information on the briefing room whiteboard), to help collect tips for the bus driver/porter (who helped with our cargo bags) and to call the senior crew when we were outstation (to organize outings/meals).
For the next 6 months of probation, some of us practiced all these with diligence while others didn’t give two hoots about it. I didn’t consider arranging outings for senior crew part of my job scope. What was more important was that we learnt our work well and kept our noses clean. No MCs and no complaints (from passengers or crew).
Honestly, I find it ridiculous that some senior crew expect the junior ones to call and invite them for outings/meals when they have been less than civil to us during the flight.
*We consider our job "solo" because we are not paired up with anyone familiar. With a pool of about 8000 flight attendants, we are all randomly assigned flights. I guess we are more fortunate than people with deskbound jobs who have to face the same boss from hell (if they are so unlucky to have one from hell) all the time. With random rosters, every flight is a lucky draw and if we meet the devil, we only have to put up with him/her for the duration of the flight.
** Each aircraft type requires a certain number of crew and has a certain number of fixed work positions. Generally in each galley (kitchen), we have one supervisor, one responsible for the left aisle (amenities/newspapers/magazines/headsets/menus), one for the right aisle (toilets/towels) and one for the galley work. Most aircrafts have at least 3 galleys.
Monday, February 4, 2013
Monday, October 22, 2012
Training School
It was like high school all over again.
There were star pupils, teachers’ pets, smelly, shy, talkative, weird classmates, flowerpots, late-comers, classmates who peppered their every sentence with expletives, classmates who knew the answer to every question, classmates who fell in love, classmates who fell asleep in class and classmates who had flagrant disregard for the rules.
We had about 20 in our class and it was a mash-up of mainly girls and a couple of guys of different nationalities and ages. The youngest was 18 and the oldest, 28. There were different cliques, the popular, the foreigners, the nerds, the gossips and there were the lone-rangers.
I did not really enjoy high school.
I was always the awkward kid. The introvert. If the teacher was not around, I sat in a corner reading my storybook when all hell was breaking loose. I was the kid who hated having my homework being copied or having my classmates look over my shoulder to see what I wrote on my exam paper. I was the weirdo who sat alone at recess and went jogging around the basketball court after my meal for lack of anything better to do. In my annual report cards, my teachers always wrote that I needed to speak up more and ask more questions.
In many ways, I was still the same. At training school, I tried to improve my learning experience by asking more questions but I soon learnt that was not a very popular thing to do. Not when everyone simply wanted to get the lesson done and over with. I even let my classmates copy my homework but they still didn’t like me. During our lunch breaks, I would sit with Joy and another classmate. We became fast friends.
Perhaps because of my age, I had little patience with my classmates who thought that training school was really a school. I fully understood that I was employed to work and provide a service. The training bit was necessary to prepare us for the job but ultimately, we were not there for fun.
We had a school song and pledge we had to sing every morning and recite every evening. We had a dress code which had to be strictly adhered to. We had to wear full make-up and bun up our hair every single day.
We were trained to stand up to greet any instructor or staff member whenever he/she entered our classroom or when we passed them in the hallway.
We had form teachers and a discipline master. We were admonished whenever we stepped out of line - if our make-up was insufficient or our hair was not neat enough, if we failed to do our readings/homework, if we were late for school, if we failed any of our assessments.
We even had a graduation day during which we had to put up a skit. Needless to say, for a group that diverse, there was mayhem while preparing for the graduation show. I invited my mom and dad to witness the ceremony.
After 2 and a half months, it was finally over. I was so glad to move on to the actual flying phase of my career.
There were star pupils, teachers’ pets, smelly, shy, talkative, weird classmates, flowerpots, late-comers, classmates who peppered their every sentence with expletives, classmates who knew the answer to every question, classmates who fell in love, classmates who fell asleep in class and classmates who had flagrant disregard for the rules.
We had about 20 in our class and it was a mash-up of mainly girls and a couple of guys of different nationalities and ages. The youngest was 18 and the oldest, 28. There were different cliques, the popular, the foreigners, the nerds, the gossips and there were the lone-rangers.
I did not really enjoy high school.
I was always the awkward kid. The introvert. If the teacher was not around, I sat in a corner reading my storybook when all hell was breaking loose. I was the kid who hated having my homework being copied or having my classmates look over my shoulder to see what I wrote on my exam paper. I was the weirdo who sat alone at recess and went jogging around the basketball court after my meal for lack of anything better to do. In my annual report cards, my teachers always wrote that I needed to speak up more and ask more questions.
In many ways, I was still the same. At training school, I tried to improve my learning experience by asking more questions but I soon learnt that was not a very popular thing to do. Not when everyone simply wanted to get the lesson done and over with. I even let my classmates copy my homework but they still didn’t like me. During our lunch breaks, I would sit with Joy and another classmate. We became fast friends.
Perhaps because of my age, I had little patience with my classmates who thought that training school was really a school. I fully understood that I was employed to work and provide a service. The training bit was necessary to prepare us for the job but ultimately, we were not there for fun.
We had a school song and pledge we had to sing every morning and recite every evening. We had a dress code which had to be strictly adhered to. We had to wear full make-up and bun up our hair every single day.
We were trained to stand up to greet any instructor or staff member whenever he/she entered our classroom or when we passed them in the hallway.
We had form teachers and a discipline master. We were admonished whenever we stepped out of line - if our make-up was insufficient or our hair was not neat enough, if we failed to do our readings/homework, if we were late for school, if we failed any of our assessments.
We even had a graduation day during which we had to put up a skit. Needless to say, for a group that diverse, there was mayhem while preparing for the graduation show. I invited my mom and dad to witness the ceremony.
After 2 and a half months, it was finally over. I was so glad to move on to the actual flying phase of my career.
Medical Check-Up
Joy and I were about the same age. While waiting for our medical check-up, we chatted and I found out she was a police officer and from the same church as I was. What were the odds? We exchanged numbers and agreed to arrange to start our training on the same day. We were both glad we would have company for the duration of the training. It felt God-sent.
A week later, I received a call from the airline to inform me that I had cleared the medical. I handed in my resignation at the gym and a month later, started cabin crew training.
A week later, I received a call from the airline to inform me that I had cleared the medical. I handed in my resignation at the gym and a month later, started cabin crew training.
Sunday, October 21, 2012
Interview Day - Part 2
We sat for a long time in a lecture room. Airline TV advertisements and PR videos were projected onto a huge screen and put on repeat mode.
Then it was time for my one on one. This felt like the actual interview (the one that really mattered) and it was the one I was asked the most questions. The interviewer was a rather friendly and pretty lady in her early 30s.
I don’t think I have ever been so composed for an interview. Normally I am all jittery and nervous. I say the wrong things or forget the things I planned to say. I think the preparation and self-talk helped.
Typical job interview questions were asked – What are your strengths and weaknesses, what would you do in a particular situation, why you think you are suitable, why do you want to leave your current job, you have a degree so why be a stewardess? Because of my age, I was also asked if I would be comfortable working under a younger superior.
Nothing I wasn’t prepared for. The interviewer was clearly pleased with my answers and wrapped up our conversation after about 15 minutes.
I waited outside for the verdict.
By the time I was given the green light, it was about 1pm. I was asked to go for lunch and come back at 3pm for the final interview with the management. As a reward for making it this far, I ate at the hotel. I think I had a club sandwich.
There were two chatty Eurasian sisters who were also waiting for the final interview. They had friends in the airline and assured me that those who made it through the one-on-one would most likely make it through the final round as well. It was more of a formality and unless you seriously messed up, the next step would be the medical check-up.
The older sister was already 30, but because of her prior work experience (she was a former crew from a Middle Eastern airline) she was accepted. The younger one started cabin crew training about the same time as me.
Two kindly middle aged women interviewed me. One was from the HR department. Noting that I indicated “Christianity” under religion in the application form, they asked which church I was attending.
They also asked about my family and wanted to know if I was independent enough for the job. They asked if I had a boyfriend and if I had immediate plans to get married and have kids. Some questions from the earlier interview were repeated.
A short while after the interview, I was informed that I passed. I almost danced out of the waiting room but was told not to quit my current job yet. I was given some forms to sign and asked to schedule an appointment for the medical check-up. Apparently, some people do fail the medical check-up.
I finally left the hotel at about 4:30pm.
One entire day for the interview and a day well spent. I was ecstatic and unable to contain my joy. It was all I could do to keep myself from fist pumping the air and clapping my feet together in glee. I was grinning like an idiot all the way home.
There are not that many instances in my life that I have felt such elation. It was something that I really wanted and getting it was an impossibility come true.
Then it was time for my one on one. This felt like the actual interview (the one that really mattered) and it was the one I was asked the most questions. The interviewer was a rather friendly and pretty lady in her early 30s.
I don’t think I have ever been so composed for an interview. Normally I am all jittery and nervous. I say the wrong things or forget the things I planned to say. I think the preparation and self-talk helped.
Typical job interview questions were asked – What are your strengths and weaknesses, what would you do in a particular situation, why you think you are suitable, why do you want to leave your current job, you have a degree so why be a stewardess? Because of my age, I was also asked if I would be comfortable working under a younger superior.
Nothing I wasn’t prepared for. The interviewer was clearly pleased with my answers and wrapped up our conversation after about 15 minutes.
I waited outside for the verdict.
By the time I was given the green light, it was about 1pm. I was asked to go for lunch and come back at 3pm for the final interview with the management. As a reward for making it this far, I ate at the hotel. I think I had a club sandwich.
There were two chatty Eurasian sisters who were also waiting for the final interview. They had friends in the airline and assured me that those who made it through the one-on-one would most likely make it through the final round as well. It was more of a formality and unless you seriously messed up, the next step would be the medical check-up.
The older sister was already 30, but because of her prior work experience (she was a former crew from a Middle Eastern airline) she was accepted. The younger one started cabin crew training about the same time as me.
Two kindly middle aged women interviewed me. One was from the HR department. Noting that I indicated “Christianity” under religion in the application form, they asked which church I was attending.
They also asked about my family and wanted to know if I was independent enough for the job. They asked if I had a boyfriend and if I had immediate plans to get married and have kids. Some questions from the earlier interview were repeated.
A short while after the interview, I was informed that I passed. I almost danced out of the waiting room but was told not to quit my current job yet. I was given some forms to sign and asked to schedule an appointment for the medical check-up. Apparently, some people do fail the medical check-up.
I finally left the hotel at about 4:30pm.
One entire day for the interview and a day well spent. I was ecstatic and unable to contain my joy. It was all I could do to keep myself from fist pumping the air and clapping my feet together in glee. I was grinning like an idiot all the way home.
There are not that many instances in my life that I have felt such elation. It was something that I really wanted and getting it was an impossibility come true.
Saturday, October 20, 2012
Interview Day - Part 1
I woke up early and had a light breakfast. I dressed in a smart but simple outfit, tied my hair back into a ponytail and slapped on a bit of powder, blush and lip gloss. I didn’t draw my eyebrows or use any eyeliner or mascara. I didn’t know how.
The walk-in interviews were scheduled to start at 9am at a hotel in town. Even though I was early, there was already a super long queue. I had to fill in similar forms again. This time I left out the inventory of moles, scars and veins. I figured if the interviewers noticed them, then too bad for me. But if not, I wasn’t about to shoot myself in the foot by pointing out all my physical imperfections.
When I made it to the front of the queue, my certificates were verified. Then my height was measured and my weight taken to ensure that my BMI was acceptable. I was also asked to reach up to touch a line which was marked out on the wall. This was to ensure that I would be able to close the overhead compartments in the aircraft.
Next, interviewees were rounded up in groups of 8 to 10. We were asked to wait for our turn in the first interview room. There were two judges this time. Individually, we were asked to do a self-introduction and explain why we thought we were suitable for the job. I had everything prepared and the interviewer seemed impressed when I gave my introduction and answer. From our group, another girl and I made it through to the next round.
More waiting.
We were again put in groups of 8 to 10 and brought into a room for the uniform fitting. It felt more like the GSS. There were limited uniforms and sizes on the rack and there were ten of us. I quickly searched for the largest uniform I could find and fortunately for me, it fit like a glove. Some of the others ended up with ill fitting uniforms.
We were asked to tie our hair up so our neck/nape was exposed. We stood in a line and took turns walking demurely towards the round 2 judges. Some had to walk back and forth a few times. Also, we were made to twirl around slowly when we were in front of the interviewers. A few typical interview questions were asked. They scribbled notes.
Then, we proceeded to stand in front of two spotlights and were scrutinized for scars. They were particularly concerned about scars on the wrists and forearms, and scars on the neck/nape. I had some marks on my forearms but they seemed satisfied when they learnt that the marks were the result of insect bites and would heal up over time.
I had 3 mini moles (flat brown spots) on my face and one on my collar bone (“had” because I have since gotten them removed, courtesy of a former client who is an aesthetic surgeon) and a vein running down my right cheek. But the lady who inspected me wasn’t too concerned about them. She thought I had pretty good complexion.
4 of us made it through that round. I remember there was one hopeful who was exceptionally pretty but because of some unexplained scars on her wrist, she was booted out. I believe scars that appear self-inflicted are a concern.
Then, more waiting.
The walk-in interviews were scheduled to start at 9am at a hotel in town. Even though I was early, there was already a super long queue. I had to fill in similar forms again. This time I left out the inventory of moles, scars and veins. I figured if the interviewers noticed them, then too bad for me. But if not, I wasn’t about to shoot myself in the foot by pointing out all my physical imperfections.
When I made it to the front of the queue, my certificates were verified. Then my height was measured and my weight taken to ensure that my BMI was acceptable. I was also asked to reach up to touch a line which was marked out on the wall. This was to ensure that I would be able to close the overhead compartments in the aircraft.
Next, interviewees were rounded up in groups of 8 to 10. We were asked to wait for our turn in the first interview room. There were two judges this time. Individually, we were asked to do a self-introduction and explain why we thought we were suitable for the job. I had everything prepared and the interviewer seemed impressed when I gave my introduction and answer. From our group, another girl and I made it through to the next round.
More waiting.
We were again put in groups of 8 to 10 and brought into a room for the uniform fitting. It felt more like the GSS. There were limited uniforms and sizes on the rack and there were ten of us. I quickly searched for the largest uniform I could find and fortunately for me, it fit like a glove. Some of the others ended up with ill fitting uniforms.
We were asked to tie our hair up so our neck/nape was exposed. We stood in a line and took turns walking demurely towards the round 2 judges. Some had to walk back and forth a few times. Also, we were made to twirl around slowly when we were in front of the interviewers. A few typical interview questions were asked. They scribbled notes.
Then, we proceeded to stand in front of two spotlights and were scrutinized for scars. They were particularly concerned about scars on the wrists and forearms, and scars on the neck/nape. I had some marks on my forearms but they seemed satisfied when they learnt that the marks were the result of insect bites and would heal up over time.
I had 3 mini moles (flat brown spots) on my face and one on my collar bone (“had” because I have since gotten them removed, courtesy of a former client who is an aesthetic surgeon) and a vein running down my right cheek. But the lady who inspected me wasn’t too concerned about them. She thought I had pretty good complexion.
4 of us made it through that round. I remember there was one hopeful who was exceptionally pretty but because of some unexplained scars on her wrist, she was booted out. I believe scars that appear self-inflicted are a concern.
Then, more waiting.
Preparing for the Interview
I had lost a fair bit of weight during my 10 day trip in the US. In preparation for the interview, I lost even more weight.
No one ever says that you have to be thin to get the job but somehow, it’s hard to shake off that stereotype of the slim, svelte stewardess. And when you are going for the interview, you really want the interviewers to be able to picture you looking good in the uniform.
I read up about the company and prepared what I wanted to say at the interview. I fully scripted and memorized my answers to all the typical interview questions. I even found several quotes which I was prepared to freely use whenever the opportunity presented itself.
“Your attitude determines your altitude.” Zig Ziglar (Learnt this from church)
“The value of a job is not in what you are paid, but in the person you become while doing it.” (Picked up this nugget from a poster at Botak Jones)
I psyched myself up for the interview and talked to myself everyday - on my way to work, when I was working out at the gym, when I was out running and during my breaks. At home, I also practised talking to my own reflection in the mirror.
Even thought I was almost 28, I did not know how to use proper make-up. That I felt, was one of my greatest weaknesses.
No one ever says that you have to be thin to get the job but somehow, it’s hard to shake off that stereotype of the slim, svelte stewardess. And when you are going for the interview, you really want the interviewers to be able to picture you looking good in the uniform.
I read up about the company and prepared what I wanted to say at the interview. I fully scripted and memorized my answers to all the typical interview questions. I even found several quotes which I was prepared to freely use whenever the opportunity presented itself.
“Your attitude determines your altitude.” Zig Ziglar (Learnt this from church)
“The value of a job is not in what you are paid, but in the person you become while doing it.” (Picked up this nugget from a poster at Botak Jones)
I psyched myself up for the interview and talked to myself everyday - on my way to work, when I was working out at the gym, when I was out running and during my breaks. At home, I also practised talking to my own reflection in the mirror.
Even thought I was almost 28, I did not know how to use proper make-up. That I felt, was one of my greatest weaknesses.
Thursday, October 18, 2012
My Story - Part 2
I found a job as an Events Coordinator in a Country Club shortly after my failed interview with the airline, decided I wasn’t really cut out to be a stewardess and put aside my childish dreams. I had after all just graduated with a Bachelor of Arts in English and owed it to my mom to put my degree to good use.
Though the pay seriously sucked, my first proper job allowed me the opportunity to produce marketing material and be actively involved in the publication of a bi-monthly magazine. Something I wanted to do at that time.
It wasn’t another 5 years later that I decided to give the airline one more chance. I was then in my second career as a Personal Trainer and had just returned from a 10 day holiday with my mom to the United States.
I should explain that I had a minor quarter life crisis 2 years into my first job, broke up with my then-boyfriend and decided that I didn’t want to work in a dead-end office job anymore. I remember feeling like a rat on a wheel. Running fast but going nowhere.
After the first year, everything had become repetitive and tiresome. Worse of all, I was transferred from the clubhouse near my house to another which was 1.5 hrs away. That, was the last straw.
My ex-bosses persuaded me to stay by assuring me that the grass was not really greener on the other side and that nothing beat having an iron rice bowl (no matter how small the bowl was). No talk of pay increment but in all honesty, I don’t think I would have stayed even if there was.
Since I was working out at the gym almost daily (during my lunch hour or after work at the clubhouse gym) and enjoying it, it seemed like a good idea to be a Personal Trainer. I went for a certification course and without a backward glance, jumped headlong into the fitness industry. I took a pay cut initially but I never doubted my decision. There weren’t many female trainers and I started building up a client base. After a couple of months, my income more than doubled.
I stayed for 3 years. While I loved the vibrant and energetic working environment in the gym, I still hated being stuck on this shitty island. I felt like a bird trapped in a cage. I wanted to fly but my wings were clipped.
My frustration was amplified when I came back from my US vacation. I remembered my childhood dream of working and living abroad and felt miserable about my own predicament. I needed a change in environment and even went as far as to try applying for personal training positions in Australia, America and… the Middle East. That was how desperate I was.
I also realized I wasn’t getting any younger and knew that if I got any older, I would never again have an opportunity to work for my national carrier. Of course, getting a job in the airline was not exactly considered as working and living abroad but at least I would get to travel often and not be stuck here all the time.
Fuelled by these thoughts, fears and dreams, I started seriously preparing for the interview. Soon, it became clear that this was a journey I had to take alone. No one felt I was cut out to be a stewardess. My childhood friend who had a short stint in the airline advised me against it, and assured me that I would hate it. My mom didn’t think I was good enough. I couldn’t count on anyone for support or encouragement.
Looking back, I’m glad I didn’t care what anyone thought. I told myself that even if I didn’t make it, at least I tried right? And that was billion times better than moping.
Though the pay seriously sucked, my first proper job allowed me the opportunity to produce marketing material and be actively involved in the publication of a bi-monthly magazine. Something I wanted to do at that time.
It wasn’t another 5 years later that I decided to give the airline one more chance. I was then in my second career as a Personal Trainer and had just returned from a 10 day holiday with my mom to the United States.
I should explain that I had a minor quarter life crisis 2 years into my first job, broke up with my then-boyfriend and decided that I didn’t want to work in a dead-end office job anymore. I remember feeling like a rat on a wheel. Running fast but going nowhere.
After the first year, everything had become repetitive and tiresome. Worse of all, I was transferred from the clubhouse near my house to another which was 1.5 hrs away. That, was the last straw.
My ex-bosses persuaded me to stay by assuring me that the grass was not really greener on the other side and that nothing beat having an iron rice bowl (no matter how small the bowl was). No talk of pay increment but in all honesty, I don’t think I would have stayed even if there was.
Since I was working out at the gym almost daily (during my lunch hour or after work at the clubhouse gym) and enjoying it, it seemed like a good idea to be a Personal Trainer. I went for a certification course and without a backward glance, jumped headlong into the fitness industry. I took a pay cut initially but I never doubted my decision. There weren’t many female trainers and I started building up a client base. After a couple of months, my income more than doubled.
I stayed for 3 years. While I loved the vibrant and energetic working environment in the gym, I still hated being stuck on this shitty island. I felt like a bird trapped in a cage. I wanted to fly but my wings were clipped.
My frustration was amplified when I came back from my US vacation. I remembered my childhood dream of working and living abroad and felt miserable about my own predicament. I needed a change in environment and even went as far as to try applying for personal training positions in Australia, America and… the Middle East. That was how desperate I was.
I also realized I wasn’t getting any younger and knew that if I got any older, I would never again have an opportunity to work for my national carrier. Of course, getting a job in the airline was not exactly considered as working and living abroad but at least I would get to travel often and not be stuck here all the time.
Fuelled by these thoughts, fears and dreams, I started seriously preparing for the interview. Soon, it became clear that this was a journey I had to take alone. No one felt I was cut out to be a stewardess. My childhood friend who had a short stint in the airline advised me against it, and assured me that I would hate it. My mom didn’t think I was good enough. I couldn’t count on anyone for support or encouragement.
Looking back, I’m glad I didn’t care what anyone thought. I told myself that even if I didn’t make it, at least I tried right? And that was billion times better than moping.
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