Today has just been one of those days: Filled with crazy ass passengers. I don’t think we’ve had a day like this for awhile, so I guess I’ll write about it. If you don’t work here, it might not be funny, but for all of you guys that throw around bins and bags like I do, you’ll understand exactly what I’m talking about.
In case you don’t know, every time something happens we have to write incident reports. So I wrote two today. Here’s how they went.
Incident Report #1
So this big bitch walks through the lane, and she was pissed because she had all these liquids in her bag. Ty was like, “Oh my god, you can’t take all this shit.” She was like, “I’m an attorney.” Ty was like, “So what?” And she was like, “I’m going to sue.” And none of us speak lawyer talk or whatever. The bitch started wileing out. So Shannon was like, “Supervisor!” The supervisor came over and was like, “Bitch, calm your ass down.” She was like, “What the fuck?” He was like, “If I have to tel lyou again, I’ma throw your ass out.” She was all pissed and shit. She started yelling and he was yelling, and I was like, “Cool.”
Incident Report #2
Yo, so this asshole already had an attitude when he was coming through the mag. He was yelling at Michelle, “Run this shit, bitch!” Michelle was like, “Yo, son, who you talkin’ to?” So I told him to take his sweater off. He got all pissed off and shit, rippin his sweater off and shit. So I was like, “Come in.” So he was like, “It’s about time, bitch.” So I asked him for his boarding pass and he threw it at me. He was like, “What? Are you crippled, bitch?” So I said, “Yo, get your ass in the box.” So Louis was wanding him like, “Life your foot, bitch.” So the man started going off on him and Louis was like, “Yo, son, I don’t want to hear your shit. So just shut your mouth.” So when he was done getting wanded, the supervisor was there and the man was like, “You are pushing my buttons.” The supervisor was like, “All right, bitch, I’ma tell you like I told that other bitch. Shut your mouth or get the fuck out.” And I was like, “Cool.”
Okay, naturally, I really didn’t write a report like this and turn it in, but if I could say what I wanted this is what I would have said. Paul asked me why I would waste my time to write something so ridiculous, but it was therapeutic. For some reason we really had a rough day from crew members to passengers just going crazy over every little thing.
Earlier in the day, Shannon had some lady that insisted she touch her with the front of her hands so she could feel the lady’s pacemaker, because “it might be a bomb.” Okay, in all the years we’ve been here, we really never heard anything like that. We decided that we are going to take all the craziest events and make a movie called Passengers Gone Wild, filled with all the bullshit passengers do to make our already shitty and thankless jobs that much harder.
Just to wrap this all up, a wheelchair girl (skycap, I guess) said, “Why do you guys have such attitudes. You should be happy because you are getting paid all that good money.)
I told her that money isn’t the root to happiness, although it can certainly pave the way or even gloss over misery for awhile. But if the pursuit of money is the source of your misery maybe you should consider something else. A lot of us supremely hate this job but don’t quit because the pay is really outstanding when compared to other entry level jobs in this area. Once you get used to that money, it’s hard to downgrade even though you might have lived like that before.
And sometimes, money is not enough to put up with all the fussing and cussing passengers, old fat people who are too lazy to get out of the wheelchair even though they didn’t come to the airport in a wheelchair and now you have to touch them, screaming babies, sneaky crewmembers, back-stabbing snitching ass co-workers, the shitty management, the cramped work spaces, basically having no workers’ rights, endless hours on your feet with lame ass breaks to recuperate, crummy benefits and compensation, and all the other drama that is associated with this place.
I told her, “I wonder if I would be happy here if I made $50,000 a year.”