Trying Flying: What Ever Happened to a Little Respect, Sir Richard?

Published on 23 November 2011 by


Trying Flying: What Ever Happened to a Little Respect, Sir Richard?

Unlike most, air travel is something that I relish, provided it’s in short manageable spurts and not long-haul epic journeys. Much like dinners with my family. At the weekend I made one such voyage, alas not across international waters to meet my French lover, but an interstate visit to meet the Fockers, so to speak. I flew Virgin, which in the past has been a decision I’ve been reluctant to make, however, when your choices are between an airline that could leave you stranded mid-air and one that forgoes professionalism for an approachable and chirpy disposition, it’s clear for which you should opt.

Overall, the flight was innocuous—it took off, it landed, which is all that really matters, much like a hotel having clean sheets and zero cockroaches. It was a new aircraft with purple, red and gunmetal grey leather seats and not that acrid stench of sweaty businessmen and breast milk from feeding mothers. However, what I took most umbrage to was not the journey itself, but what happened even before ascent.

All twenty kilograms of luggage checked in and boarding pass in my hand, I strode onto the plane with my beloved and was greeted by the flight attendant with the stereotypical slicked-back-and-lacquered hair and service industry-bewildered rictus. Accustomed to being greeted by my title and surname (that’s Mr Uncle to you) I was somewhat affronted, taken aback and shoved sideways by her calling me ‘Agony’. Now I understand the pretension of such a statement but as someone with slightly old-fashioned sensibilities, or heck—good manners, I didn’t appreciate being addressed by my given name from someone who didn’t know me from a bottle of liquid body wash, particularly when reading it from my boarding pass.

I can understand why it’s happening: Virgin is an egalitarian airline, despite its having Business Class and it’s First Class equivalent on international flights. They seek the democratisation of air travel and aspire to propose themselves an approachable, friendly face in the skies. Originally they were a budget airline, however, they’ve morphed into the opposition with similar airfares and the same awful in-flight fare, which isn’t even included in the ticket price. However, what matters is that they’re providing a service and those in the service industry should establish a hierarchy between those who consume and those provide.

Had I been in my fifties and not a thirty-year-old who has kept out of the sun, for example, and a twenty-two-year-old flight attendant/sales assistant/waiter dared to call me by my given name, it would have considered it both presumptuous and insolent. Do you think the Prince of Wales would be referred to as ‘Chuck’ when he boards a flight? Well, no—the Royals fly British Airways, but that’s beside the point.

Some people have an aversion to sounding like their parents, opting for those their junior to call them by their given names. In fact, I once had a music teacher you used to crow, “Don’t call me Mr Smith—that’s my father’s name. Call me John.” He later went to prison for interfering with minors.

Sure, it’s much easier to mispronounce a surname than a given name, but it just might be worth the risk of making a mistake in order to make someone feel special, if even for a moment. If I were Sir Richard (I wonder how his flight crew address him), I’d consider reviewing his policy on addressing customers by their given names and and instilling them with a seething sense of anticipation on the return flight. Though, what would I know—I’m not the billionaire, now am I?

What are your thoughts on being addressed by your given name? Leave your comments below.

I do believe there’s more for you to read:

Comments

Tags:  , , , , ,