That little faggot got his own jet airplane...

So...work today....

I've come to the conclusion it's probably better to NOT post about work. So instead, following in the footsteps of JP at Brain Salve i think I'll post about my partime job. (the following may or may not be true, in whole or in part, metaphorically speaking)


Have I mentioned that in my spare time, I'm airplane steward? Oh yeah, Uncle Polt's flying the friendly skies...more or less.

It's a great gig, and I enjoy it, despite the unruly demanding passengers, katty back stabbing fellow stewardesses and cocky, know-it-all pilots. See like today, during the flight, we hit some turbulance. And then it cleared, although all of us working on the plane knew we'd hit some more turbulance eventually. Did the pilot, co-pilots, navigator, whoever else is in charge of the plane, DO anything? Did they make any preperations for the forthcoming turbulance? Oh no. Since they couldn't see it, since it wasn't directly in front of their faces, they saw no need to do anything about it. And then, once we hit the turbulance, then we, the steward(ess) es are expected to run around like chickens with our heads cut off helping the passengers into thier seats, picking up dropped items, cleaning messes made, all the while attempting to retain our own footing and doing our regular duties. This could have been handled much better if only the pilot etc had PLANNED for the turbulance we all knew was coming back! But no, that would be too easy. I spent my whole morning dealing with crap like this.

THEN, in the afternoon, after I finished my bowl of chicken broth and no-cheese-but-with-tomatos sub, I had and encounter with a fellow stewardess. I call her Chicken Lady, cause if anyone remembers The Kids In The Hall from the early 90's, she looks quite like the Chicken Lady from thier skits. She also thinks she's the head honcho, big hen over the rest of us steward (ess)es, when she isn't. I guess being married to one of the co-pilots has something to do with that.

At any rate, she saunters up to MY station from hers in First Class (she's too good to work in coach like everyone else) and says, "I've been looking over things here, and I noticed that two people, Mr. William James and Mr. Aaron Who, haven't recieved their complementary peanuts yet? Do we have a good reason for that?"

That just got my uniform ALL in a twist! I had been dealing with the complementary peanuts ALL morning, and I was on top of it, but here she is, not even in her own section, coming down on me for something that she knew nothing about. So I told her, "Mr. James told me he had a several peanut allergy and he doesn't even want to touch the bag. And Mr. Who said I could give his to the kid sitting across the aisle from him. Are THOSE good enough reasons?"

Her response was to simply say, "Yes. Yes I guess they are." And return to First Class. I wanted to run her over with a drink cart, but then I'd have to just clean up the mess AND cover her section, and that wouldn't be worth it.

I just wish the pilot, co-pilots etc, actually really KNEW how to run a plane. I mean, yeah, they can fly it...sorta, but there's so much other stuff that would run so much easier for the rest of us if they just used a little common sense. But then thier pilots and I'm a lowly steward, so what the hell do I know, right?

POLT = listening to "Comfortably Numb" by Pink Floyd

When one gives you a ride home from the pub, one generally expects a bit of a canoodle. - Mrs. Slocombe, Are You Being Served?