Sometimes life’s lessons come when you least expect them, and from some unlikely sources.
Last week I drove my son to Denver to go back to college. He will be living with my brother and sister-law. I wasn’t sure how long the trip would take or how long I would be needed to get him tested, enrolled, registered, and acclimated, so I waited until the last minute to purchase my airline ticket. Now, as a seasoned traveler, I know that’s kindly “dicey” at best, but the extenuating circumstances can be blamed for my tardiness in scheduling my flight.
As a school teacher, putting her son back in college, I was ofcourse, watching EVERY PENNY! My lifelong “old reliable” Southwest was kindly proud of their last-minute fares…and with the cost at $360, I was looking into bus tickets! The fact that it was a one-way fare didn’t help me any. My sister-in-law ran all of her standard online last minute deals and found me a seat on Frontier Airlines for $109. Cheaper than a bus ticket, and 1/12 of the time! The price was right, I jumped at the opportunity.
The price may have been great, but well…let’s just say I got up at 4 in the morning, and so did my brother and my son. We left at 4:40 a.m. to get to the airport on the outskirts of Denver (my brother lives in Littleton) by 6:00 a.m. My plane was scheduled to depart at 7:00 a.m. While I will admit, for a mom--leaving a child ---even with your brother and sister-in-law---can be an emotional moment, and perhaps I was a little oversensitive and maybe a little reactive to what transpired. However, I made my notes on the plane trip home and waited a week before writing this. It still needs to be said.
I walked into the airport after saying “good bye” to my son. I looked around the check-in lobby, got the “lay of the land” and filed into the roped-off labyrinth that winds in and around and in a matter of just a few minutes, I was “next? Come on down here to the end,” the Frontier ‘traffic director’ guided me to a check-in station at the end of the counter. “Donna will be happy to help you with any questions and/or problems you might have getting checked in.” I looked at the gentleman, and said “Thank you,” and turned to Donna and said, “Actually I can use your help.” After I bought the ticket, thinking I might be making a few more trips to Colorado in the next few years, I’d acquired a ‘frequent flyer’ number, and wanted to make sure I got credit for this flight, and I needed to check a bag before I picked up my boarding pass.
Donna was NOT pleased. She looked at me and pointed at the computer monitor that was in front of me, “Use the screen.” she said. I looked around for a keyboard. There wasn’t one. I touched the screen, nothing happened. I looked over to the people using the check-in station next to me, and they were actually getting help from the person behind their counter. I looked at Donna, and said, “I’m not familiar with how to…” that’s as far as I got, she glared at me, raised her voice, pointed at the monitor and repeated, “USE THE SCREEN!” I attempted the process again, with no results. Touching the screen didn’t change anything.
A melodious voice overhead rang out, “FRONTIER AIRLINES wants to welcome all passengers to the DenverAirport. If you are in need of assistance, a Frontier Airline’s representative will be happy to help you.” I laughed to myself, as I looked up to find Donna talking to another of those ‘Frontier Airlines’ representatives. I once again asked Donna for help. Donna looked disturbed, she pointed at the monitor and said, “ I told you to USE THE SCREEN!” By this time, I was beginning to feel uncomfortable…the idea that I could get here and hour and 15 minutes early and still possibly miss my flight because I didn’t or couldn’t get my boarding pass began to creep into the back of my mind. I was beginning to feel a little incompetent at this point, so I put on my biggest smile and unwittingly admitted, “I’m not familiar with how to do that.”
She rolled her eyes, and showed me her open hand as she finally walked over towards my station. “Where is your card?” she demanded. Card? What card? I had gotten out my driver’s license as identification for picking up my boarding pass, but I began to rifle through my purse for my wallet full of cards, hoping that one of them would be the “magic key” to unlocking this machine. “Any card!” she growled and snatched my license from my hand and swiped it through the card reader (that I hadn’t seen and didn’t even know was there-on the side of the monitor.) Donna exhaled loudly and rolled her eyes into the back of her head once again, “There!” she said, “All you have to do is follow instructions!” Her tone was fraught with disgust and somehow implied that I was intentionally being as ‘stupid’ as she was making me out to be.
An older couple that had just stepped up to the screen next to mine, witnessed the scene and shook their heads. As they began tapping at the screen and looking under the monitor for a keyboard, I told them to get out a driver’s license. I showed them where the card swipe was on the side of the monitor. The woman looked at me and smiled, “She must be having a bad day.” Her husband harrumphed, “It’s way too early for her to be having a bad day, the day just started. She must have had a bad night!” As I was attempting to show them everything I’d “learned,” Donna stepped out from behind the counter and walked across the lobby to catch a pilot or air-steward in uniform as he walked through. I hurriedly proceeded to follow the ‘instructions on the screen’ finally attaining the prize at the end of the battle: the coveted boarding pass!
I looked for someone to check my bag, and no one was around. The older couple had no bags to check they smiled, thanked me and moved on. I stood there, and waited for…Donna. At this point I felt like raising my hand. I’m a school teacher, and I felt like raising my hand! I turned around and stood there and waited for Donna’s return. A few minutes later, Donna came back. “You’re STILL here?” she asked incredulously. “I need to check a bag,” I offered. She took my boarding pass from my hand, read through it and said, “Nope! You have an economy ticket. No bag check. You’ll have to carry it on.” “I have a pocket knife in the bag,” I replied, “I have to check it.”
“Can’t you read??? You had a chance to buy that opportunity when you purchased your ticket.” I looked at her, “Of course I can read…” I began, but by this time Donna was back behind the counter demanding that I “Use the screen!” I tried sliding my driver’s license again, and the message read, “No unused ticketed reservations exist.” I looked over at Donna, she said in a loud, slow deliberate voice, “USE THE SCREEN.” “But I already have my boarding pass, and I need to…” In an instant, Donna was over the baggage rack. She yanked my boarding pass from my hand and flashed it under a bar-code scanner under the monitor. “They make this system so simple a child can use it!” she hissed. “There!” My ticket information came up, I got out a credit card and paid another $15 to check my bag, and I looked around to see if anyone was available to take my bag to the conveyor belt. Only Donna, who stood there looking at me as if I were the most incompetent hillbilly traveler she’d ever seen in her life.
At that point, I stopped. I looked at Donna and in my nicest assertive voice, I asked, “How was I supposed to know to do that?” She rolled her eyes into the back of her head, and continued to look down her nose at me. I stood my ground, and asked her again. “No, really-Donna. How was I supposed to know how to do that?” “Never been to a grocery store, either?” she quipped.
Okay. So there is a barcode on the boarding pass. But I’m in an AIRPORT, not a Walmart. Neither the card-swipe or the bar-code reader was labeled or obtrusive. There were no written instructions ANYWHERE.
I’ll admit that last Saturday morning, I was not “Touch-screen check-in savvy.” I don’t play video games, and unless Elvia is with me, I avoid the self-checkout lanes at the grocery and hardware stores like the plague, opting instead for the friendly and familiar face-to-face banter of good customer service.
I’ll admit, there were hundreds of passengers flying early that morning who knew exactly what they were doing, and “flew quickly through” the check-in process without a hitch!
And if there is a “next time” I’ll be one of those people.
But this past Saturday at 6 in the morning, I stood there in the Denver Airport feeling alone…humiliated, ridiculed and belittled—and as I struggled to get another counter attendant to take my bag so that I could finally go to my gate and await my flight home…I thought about my kids. My students. I thought about how many times they must feel just like this—when they don’t understand something and ask for help--and someone thinks repeating the same instructions over and over, louder and slower, or in a more impatient and angry tone will somehow make them understand or make them go away.
As a teacher, I often have to pick up the pieces, the fragments of the child’s self esteem when others have chosen to berate them until they just “go away.”
As teachers (and as human beings) we cannot miss opportunities to ‘teach and empower,’ when we are confronted with them. They have to be recognized and embraced. There is always something to be had in return. Sometimes we learn patience. Other times we gain understanding. Maybe we may just get a warm grin, that causes us to remember how to smile. Maybe we teach another how to facilitate. Maybe we just get better at it ourselves. But in all of this, we’ll all learn how to give and accept appreciation, tolerance and respect. And hopefully, at the end of the day, every life that we've touched, will be better because we were there, and we will have made a positive difference in the life of another person.
