Last week, I flew with Qatar Airways for the first time. My partner had flown with Qatar before and remembered them being good. Others I spoke to echoed his sentiment—not quite Emirates, but definitely better than average.
Having gone with Vietnam Airlines the last time we flew to London and had a chaotic and stressful experience, I was looking forward to Qatar being a cut above. I expected a smooth transit, informed staff, better-than-edible food, welcome snacks, and premium service.
All in all, Qatar didn’t disappoint. It met most of my expectations and even exceeded a couple. My only complaint: service.
Service without a smile
Things looked promising from the start. Check-in was swift and smooth. There was a dedicated, and much shorter, line for web check-in passengers, a perk Vietnam Airlines is unique in not offering. Boarding was a little delayed, but by an acceptable margin. Welcome snacks and drink—check—soon after take-off.
We got served two meals onboard, a full one and a snack before landing, both of which were delicious. The plane had plenty of leg room. The toilet was clean. The movie selection was the best I’d ever seen—I watched Citizen Kane and The Menu, both of which had long been on my to-watch list.
But, and this bothered me, the flight attendants in our aisle were some of the unfriendliest I’d ever encountered. They didn’t smile. They spoke in an abrupt, almost brusque, manner. I didn’t feel like they were serving me, but rather doing me a favour.
To add insult to injury, when towards the end of the flight I went to the galley to get my bottle of water refilled and misunderstood an attendant’s nod to mean I could do it myself, I got told off by a different attendant. “I must do this for you!” she hissed venomously before snatching the bottle of water from my hand.
I was not impressed.
Forgetting the human
I had an image in my mind of what a flight attendant should be—smiling, gentle, polite, accommodating in every way. And when reality fell short of my expectation, I was quick to condemn.
The attendant didn’t smile at me? Bad. The attendant didn’t ask me whether I wanted tea or coffee after taking my tray away? Worse. The attendant didn’t speak to me courteously at all times? Unacceptable!
As soon as reality diverges from my ideal mental image, I lose all empathy. I forget that the flight attendant is also human, prone to making human errors and susceptible to human pressures and worries—just like myself.
I forget that the flight attendant may be stressed dealing with a difficult passenger a few rows ahead. I forget that the flight attendant may expect me to get coffee and tea from the same aisle as my partner for more efficient service. I forget that the flight attendant could be severely reprimanded for letting a passenger handle items in the galley.
I forget that the flight attendant isn’t just a flight attendant. They’re first and foremost human.
It’s a nasty habit I have. As soon as someone does something I dislike, I forget they’re human. As soon as someone frustrates me, they’re reduced from a full-fledged person to target practice for my unbridled anger. As soon as someone hurts me, they’re cruel. Mess up my accounting? You’re incompetent.
This realisation that I tend to—no, always—forget the human and lose all empathy is a recent one. I realised it only a few weeks ago while on a call with a colleague I often clash with because of our diametrically opposed work preferences.
I was pissed off with them that morning because they didn’t do something the way I wanted them to. They suggested we get on the same page, and I agreed to a quick call.
The planned 15-minute call turned into an hour. We did talk shop and smooth things out, but we also talked life and laughed at silly things. Ten minutes in, I suddenly remembered: they’re human, just like me. I’d been so fixated on the things I didn’t appreciate that I’d forgotten how brilliant at their job they were, how much I liked them as a person, how alike we were in our worries.
They weren’t the enemy, as I had made them out to be. I was.
What do you think?
I’m not proud of this nasty habit of mine. I want to change it, but so far it’s doing a great job resisting my best cleansing efforts.
Do you forget the human?
Do you reduce people to adjectives? Lose the ability to empathise? Please hit “reply” or leave a comment—I read every response and I’d love to hear from you. If you want, share this with someone who’s human, just like you.
Until next Friday… Stay thoughtful,
Val
Photo by Omar Prestwich on Unsplash