I joined Qantas as an international flight attendant straight out of university, at the tender age of 23. I’d barely travelled before that point and after six weeks of training was sent on my very first trip. I was beside myself with excitement and fronted up to the briefing room at the jet base in Sydney, groomed to within an inch of my life and proudly wearing my brand new navy blue uniform and regulation pantyhose. I’m surprised I didn’t salute as I went in to meet the rest of the crew, so primed was I to make long-lasting friendships based on extraordinary shared travel experiences.
In those days, trips were allocated on a seniority basis, but because I was brand new, I’d been called out on a trip to a very desirable (and therefore very senior) destination: Tahiti. Where my training class was full of highly excitable, nervous goody-two-shoes like me, desperate to toe the company line by going ‘above and beyond’, my first crew was a ragtag bunch who barely bothered to look up as I awkwardly entered the room.
Relieved I’d decided against the salute, I quietly took a seat at the back and had no choice but to listen in on their off-hand, world-weary exchanges about what they were going to get up to in Tahiti during their slip time. They were all about 20 years older than me and wore their uniforms with an insouciance that would have had them reported tout de suite* in the training rooms upstairs. Sunglasses pushed onto the tops of heads, jackets slung over the backs of chairs, ties undone, skirts riding up to reveal non-regulation (gasp!) stockings… Louche was the only way to describe it and yet I was in absolute awe. How could these people get away with breaking all the rules and be so incredibly cool simultaneously? Remembering back to how naive I was makes me cringe and smile all at once.
Cut to two hours later and we’re ready to greet the passengers as they file onto the aircraft, anticipating their trip to paradise. Without any to-do whatsoever, uniform jackets had been buttoned, sunglasses removed, skirts pulled down to graze the knees and cigarettes stowed within arm’s reach for the minute the no-smoking sign went off (yes…). I watched as my fellow crew members greeted, assisted and gently teased the passengers in that most Australian of ways. “Got ya boardies with ya, mate?” to a young boy travelling with his parents. “Looking forward to your first Mai Tai, doll?” to an older woman who tittered in appreciation. It was a different time, that’s for sure, but the ease with which they dispensed their charm across the entire economy cabin was truly a sight to behold.
Meanwhile, I could barely distinguish one end of the aircraft from the other and yet couldn’t let go of my newly-acquired policies and procedures training, swirling though they were in my head.
Picking out the most approachable-looking of my colleagues, I started peppering him with questions.
“So we do waters pre-take-off and then once the seatbelt sign goes off we start the bar service, is that right? Or do we hand out the menus first? Oh, no, I remember,” I said, answering my own question, as my colleague’s moustache betrayed a small smile, “we do headsets first up, or is that before take-off? Do I get them out myself, or have you already done that? Where are they again?”
“Easy, tiger, it’s a long flight. You don’t want to puff yourself out.”
I wish I could report that those words snapped me out of my self-imposed stress coil, but they didn’t. They did make me laugh, though, and over the next eight hours or so I was able to witness the crew pace themselves in a way that ensured the passengers got what they needed (food, drink, safety) as well as what they wanted: a comfortable flight, a quick chat and a bit of a laugh.
So, why am I meandering down memory lane and how does it relate to learning French?
One of the great things about my job as a tutor at Lingua Franca is that I have the privilege of teaching people who choose to be there. They lead busy, interesting lives, yet find time once a week or more to turn their attention to French. I love watching the French bug bite them and know it’s happened when they start a sentence with : “I was in the shower/car/supermarket the other day and was trying to work out how I’d say…”
This is such a wonderful development and one that should be celebrated.
However, sometimes that passion can spill over into anxiety and I’ve seen people giving themselves a hard time instead of giving themselves a huge pat on the back, which is what they deserve.
If you recognise yourself in this description, I offer you a few observations:
