In my RESOLVE free video series I recommend starting the day optimistically and not pessimistically. This morning, I received an email which said in part:
“Thanks, Alan. I watched all the videos and got a lot of good advice.
“One problem…If I have to start my day with optimistic people, I’ll have to start sleeping around. My husband is Mr. Doom and Gloom personified.”
The RESOLVE series:
http://www.summitconsulting.com/resolve/
Print This Post
| January 17, 2012 | ||
| Dear Dr. Weiss: | ||
| This note is a response to your letter to Mr. Horton, who asked me to research and respond. Thank you for taking the time to speak with me and for assisting fellow passengers on board flight 1758 with their carry on items when you traveled to Boston on January 14.
Indeed, there is simply no excuse for the poor demeanor of our flight attendants. We are required to assist our customers who have disabilities or medical needs with their carry on items if asked during the boarding process, while inside the aircraft cabin and when deplaning. If a flight attendant feels that he or she can’t assist, then ground personnel should be called aboard to assist. I apologize for the lack of assistance on our part. Dr. Weiss, we appreciate the time you have taken to contact us. We can assure you that your comments were forwarded to the appropriate Flight Services Manager for internal review and counseling purposes. It would be our pleasure to welcome you on board future flights. |
||
| Sincerely, | ||
| Stefania Meyer | ||
| Customer Relations | ||
| American Airlines | ||
Print This Post
@AmericanAir American Airlines
We’ve also passed your concerns on to Customer Relations for review & follow up. Please let us know if you have questions.
Print This Post
Travesty on American Airlines Flight 1758
An Open Letter to American Airlines President Thomas W. Horton
My wife and I stood in the priority line to board American flight 1758 from Miami to Boston at 3 pm on January 14. We were returning from a week’s vacation in Puerto Rico and a speech that morning in Ft. Lauderdale.
I have flown about 3.5 million air miles, over a million of them on American alone, an indication that I like the carrier and think its employees do fine work on the ground and in the air. In fact, American provides me with recognition slips for employees, and I gave one to flight attendants on the flights to San Juan and back.
Let me also state that flight attendants have a tough job, they are not always treated well by the company or passengers, and 95 percent of them are terrific. But now I will take you on a sorry trip.
There were four people ahead of us in line. At the front were two women, apparently in their 70s, short, not very mobile, and moving with difficulty. One was both deaf and blind. The other—whom I took to be a partner, companion, or relative, because they had obviously traveled together before—guided her companion carefully, and I marveled at their mutual tough determination. Behind them was a man with a severe walking problem who relied on a cane, with his wife beside him.
Boarding commenced and we slowly walked to the plane, with the first class passengers behind us. At the door of the 757, coach is to the right, first class to the left. But the two women had stopped in the intersection, and seemed to be struggling. Three female flight attendants stood within five feet, unmoving. After two minutes, I excused myself and moved forward to find the two women struggling with their carry-on bags. The sighted woman was struggling to lift one, staggering under the weight of the bag, and the blind woman was afraid to sit down or move. The man with the cane obviously could not help.
“Why don’t you help them?” I said to the three immobile flight attendants. All three simply stared blankly.
“For goodness sake,” I said, and moved over to help the women lift their baggage into the overhead bins. Bear in mind that 200 people were waiting in line in the jetway and out into the concourse to board that plane. Once we were able to clear the aisle, I turned to go to first class and said to the still-motionless troika, “Why didn’t you help them?!”
“We’re not allowed,” said one. “If we hurt ourselves,” said another, “the company won’t pay our insurance claims.” “No wonder American is bankrupt,” I said, “given this kind of nonsense.” I was aghast at the callousness of these three, watching two poor women struggle in front of them. The third flight attendant, Mariellen, had a brief fit, said I didn’t understand and stomped to the galley, proclaiming loudly into the open cockpit door, “I’m not arguing in the aisles. You wouldn’t believe this!” Apparently the pilots didn’t believe it or had better things to do, since neither emerged.
Meanwhile, I watched a gate agent board the plane and lift luggage into an overhead, then go down to ground level and help baggage handlers with late checked luggage. Apparently, he wasn’t afraid of hurting himself, or had special insurance.
I’m assuming these three flight attendants met or exceeded American’s standards for health, fitness, and intelligence. Lifting a bag into an overhead bin on occasion certainly can’t be a threatening part of the job unless you have no inclination to help. I’d say American does not have a compassion test, because these three would have flunked it.
How do you stand there, watch disabled and disoriented elderly women struggle, and not have the heart to help, feeling that (I assume) union work rules take precedence? How effective will you be in an emergency, helping people when personal sacrifice might be required to assist others? Or would you be worried about cracking a nail?
I’ll repeat that my flying experiences have been enriched by the hard working people on the ground and in the air working for airlines around the globe. I do not mean to generalize.
But what I saw, sir, today, when I’m writing this, was egregiously poor judgment, a lack of decency, and a callousness that is hard to comprehend when most people I know are constantly reaching out to help others, especially those so clearly in need. They’re not worried about what their insurance will or won’t cover when they see people in extenuating circumstances.
I don’t know what you should do with these employees, but I wouldn’t board a flight they’re working with a bad back and a large bag.
Mr. Horton, I’m not asking you to lift a bag, but just lift the phone, personally, and tell me you’ll fix this.
Sincerely,
Alan Weiss
Print This Post
I’ve been trying to figure why the “celebrities” who host award shows or turn up on Dancing with the Vaguely Familiar, or show up on “Ellen,” are people whom I have to Google to figure out just who the heck they are. I’m also shocked that a huge attraction like Justin Bieber is absolutely devoid of talent and seems totally vacant.
So, I must be “out of it” and getting old, right?
Maybe not. I have another theory.
Today, fame and infamy are considered equally valuable, just as people confuse “infer” and “imply.” The idea is to achieve “celebrity,” like the oaf Richard Hatch who stripped nude on the first “Survivor” show and subsequently went to jail for refusing to pay tax on his winnings. He’s been in and out of jail ever since, but is apparently considering further “reality” work.
“Celebrity Apprentice,” the dreadful show hosted by dreadful Donald Trump, could be sued for felony use of an adjective. Shouldn’t celebrities be readily identifiable by the general population?
Here’s the problem: EVERYONE was focused on, say, Sinatra in his prime. Parents and kids all agreed he was the ne plus ultra singer (as they did Crosby before him). Elvis and the Beatles changed that, to an extent that we have “stars” today who actually appeal to a vast minority of the known universe (or even of Dubuque). Everyone pretty much agreed that Clark Gable and Humphrey Bogart, or Elizabeth Taylor and Ava Gardner (let alone Marilyn Monroe), were stars. But Toby Maguire? Jude Law? Kristin Wiig?
Social media platforms enable anyone to provide a comment, a video, an audio, a response, virtually without restriction. (I particularly am astonished at women who provide carefully done photos and articulate descriptions of themselves and who routinely use expletives in almost any conversation.) Not many people seem to care if they achieve fame or infamy, so long as someone notices them.
Are people that hungry for attention? Do they believe every nonentity with a microphone is someone worth slavishly following, or that anything they do to create their own microphone is worth it?
I’ve always felt this was silly. It’s not a matter of age, it’s a matter of taste. You can be famous for having good taste, or infamous for having none at all.
© Alan Weiss 2012. All rights reserved.
Print This Post
I found a new woman behind the counter of my coffee shop this morning. I asked for two large coffees, with two sweeteners and cream in each. To my astonishment, she poured the coffee, then the sweetener, then the cream, and handed them over. No mixing. No covers. No tray.
I stared at her and she said, “Mixing sticks are over there,” pointing to a counter. She did that right over her prominent tip jar, where she expects people to deposit money apparently just for her sunny disposition. If you want a buck for standing behind a counter, barely moving, and pouring hot water, maybe you should consider mixing the brew, or smiling, or being generally helpful?
Consciousness is a function of processing information, and not everyone processes information at the same rates, leading to lower and higher levels of consciousness. This woman is oblivious to her job and surroundings. She might as well be unconscious.
What’s next, a tip just for standing upright? Or having an opposable thumb?
© Alan Weiss 2012. All rights reserved.
Print This Post
As is our custom (beginning today) Buddy Beagle and I have conferred on the best and worst personal business experiences of the prior year (Koufax is busy watching the Dog Channel on cable). After a tough evaluation, punctuated by pizza and pupperoni, here are our awards:
Outstanding Business Practices in General and Specific: Amica Insurance
Headquarters: Lincoln, Rhode Island
Amica does not use agents, and provides exemplary service in every area over the phone and by mail: making policy changes, claims, general information, company communications. Specifically, this past year the company made an error in its calculations creating a lower than proper premium on some policies. The company sent a letter explaining the error, and said that instead of trying to recollect at the moment, the increases and extra payments would be seen in future bills. They apologized for the inconvenience.
When I wrote to the president telling him how well they had handled the situation, he wrote me a personal letter thanking me and telling me this was the reaction they had hoped for with their customers.
I’ve been with Amica for 30 years: house, cars, umbrella liability. They are unceasingly pleasant, supportive, and responsive.
Most Reprehensible Act by an Uncaring, Customer-Deaf Monolith: Shell Oil
U.S. Headquarters: Houston, Texas
I’ve been a Shell customer for 40 years, have never failed to pay every month’s installment in full and have never been late with a payment. We have a wonderful Shell station two minutes away, where they give the dogs biscuits. My monthly bill can easily run to $800 or so in these times.
A few months ago, my son rented a truck to move to Los Angeles. I gave him one of our Shell cards to use along the way. In the meantime, my account was paid in full, and I was filling up two Bentleys and a Mercedes SUV, while Shell continued to raise its prices. Suddenly, our cards were no longer valid, and I’m getting dunning calls from the company (some idiot credit card company in Devils Breath, North Dakota or somewhere handles their billing). I was informed I had a $1,000 limit, it had been exceeded, and I had to make an immediate payment, even though my bill wasn’t due for a couple of weeks.
Talking to Shell was like talking to an actual shell on the beach, except at least there you can hear intelligible sounds. Despite their rabid increases in price, they never bothered to raise my limit (which I had no idea existed) over all those years, referred me to the “small print” and told me I’d have to submit an application to raise it and get a credit check. The individuals were rude and ugly, talking as if I were some kind of debtor’s prison candidate.
Letters to their executive offices went unanswered or answered by form letter.
Shell, and their moronic collection company, have Buddy’s and my vote for the dumb-ass, stupidest management in existence in 2011. The odds are they’ll be a prohibitive favorite to repeat in 2012 for many of you.
© Alan Weiss 2012. All rights reserved.
Print This Post
The National Transportation Safety Board wants to ban ALL use of phones in cars, even hands-free phones, except in the case of emergencies. (The NTSB has no enforcement power, but does have an influence on Congress.)
Can someone tell me how a hands-free phone is more distracting and more dangerous than:
• Fooling with the radio and finding different channels.
• Using an iPod for music in the car and finding the right playback.
• Talking to passengers in the car.
• Using GPS while underway.
• Trying to follow written instructions.
• Glancing at notes and reminders in those dashboard holders.
• Drinking hot coffee.
• Eating.
• Applying makeup.
• Daydreaming.
In today’s Wall Street Journal there is an article about how complicated and hard to use certain dashboard music systems can be.
I’m all for safety on the roadways, but I tend to become allergic to overwrought attempts to legislate every part of our lives (there are bills in several states that would prohibit smoking in your own car; and according to several car seat rules concerning weight and size, some petite women would have to go to their college proms or weddings in a child seat).
Dialing a phone and sending text messages while driving is insane, dangerous, and shouldn’t be condoned. Driving without a seat belt creates a greater chance of serious injury and expense in medical costs and insurance. These are legitimate and specific concerns.
But if you intend to try to legislate to the point of absolute perceived 100 percent safety, then you need to arrest every woman putting on mascara and lipstick; anyone with a drink rising from cup holder to lips; those changing their GPS views or looking at the map; and anyone seen glancing at a passenger in the course of conversation.
You can educate people to be careful, but there comes a point where attempting to legislate it clearly abrogates personal freedom. (A police cruiser, ostensibly driven by a careful, experienced, knowledgeable officer was shown on the news last night being towed off a telephone pole which the officer had driven up vertically while his attention was “distracted.”)
The tentative person pulling onto a highway at 25 MPH and not increasing speed immediately, the person rolling through the stop sign, the person not signaling the lane change—they are more dangerous than someone talking on a hands-free phone and, one would think, they ARE paying close attention.
Some people die of peanut allergies. The answer is not to ban peanuts from the marketplace. Some people die in plane crashes. The answer is not to ban flying. We know people die from tobacco, but we’ve yet to abolish its sale.
Careless people will cause accidents. We need to educate them, take them off the road if blatant or repeated. But we need to heed Peter Drucker, who said, “…and laws that result from a ‘scandal’ are invariably bad laws. They punish ninety-nine innocents to foil one miscreant. They penalize good practice, yet rarely prevent malpractice. They express emotion rather than reason.”
Maybe we should remove all those distracting advertising billboards, and clear all the trees and vegetation that cause the eye to wander, especially in the fall when trees turn color. Where does it end?
It ends when people are educated and expected to use good judgment, not when the government acts like a parent trying to control unruly kids. If the government wants to act like a parent, then clean up the tax code. That would be a welcome start. But stay out of my car.
© Alan Weiss 2011. All rights reserved.
Print This Post
How is it that someone who knows that he or she will be scrutinized only slightly more than animalcules on a petrie dish still believes that past assignations and improprieties will never be exposed? Herman Cain. Jerry Sandusky. Bernie Fine. Bernie Madoff. Eliot Spitzer. Martha Stewart. Michael Vick.
We are all tempted by the fiction that we will be able to “get away with it.” No doubt some have. The perfect crime is a human obsession. We know that John Kennedy’s peccadillos were known and not reported by an adoring press in another age. Even today, we have no idea of the criminal and unethical behavior that has been concealed behind kryptonite barriers.
But the media feed on imperfection (despite their own—which is why Murdoch’s collapsing, hacking empire is so enormously satisfying) and will turn spitting on the sidewalk into an environmental catastrophe. What type of hubris defies this?
It’s the hubris of the inordinately successful. Business people, athletes, entertainers, those stretching their Warholian 15 minutes, begin to feel Teflon-coated, somehow immunized against prying eyes and inquiring minds.
Even when larger institutions provide protection—a Penn State or a public office—the odds are that the transgressor will be found out, especially as higher rank and more altitude are sought. We have a tendency to eat our young and tarnish our heroes. (A Medal of Honor winner was recently branded a drunk with personality disorders because he opposed his British-owned new employer’s move to sell sniper scopes to Pakistan.)
The fall can be precipitous, but also rife with rebound. Michael Vick is once again a highly paid, praised quarterback. Eliot Spitzer got a talk show (for which he had no talent). Barney Frank announced his voluntary retirement after 20 years in the House and after several sordid scandals. Pee Wee Herman is entertaining again.
I’m all for forgiveness. Most religions certainly advocate it. But I’m not for stupidity. Teflon prevents food from sticking, but it’s only useful when there’s heat applied. And most people can’t stand the heat and hop into the fire.
© Alan Weiss 2011. All rights reserved.
Print This Post
After delivering my keynote and a special session for an elite group of Canadian speakers last night, I caught a limo from the hotel this morning after a 5:30 am fire alarm trumped my later wake-up call. The limo arrived early and the driver was very polite.
At the airport, I headed for Global Entry. There was a long wait in the regular system, with maybe 10 US immigration officers amidst booths for three times that number, and long, Disneyland lines. I bypassed everything, and then ran into Mr. Ugly American. An officer at the machine, instead of saying the machine was out of order, and he’s sorry, interrogated me as to whether I had Nexus, and why didn’t I know what that was. I said, “Can I use this machine or not?!” and he said, “Go see an officer!” I asked him if he were always that unpleasant. I find this intolerable as an American. It’s humiliating to employ this kind of attitude.
After 15 minutes in the line and halfway through, I saw that the machine was lighted again and Mr. Personality had left. I ducked under the ropes and did my thing in one minute. Then at the exit point, a woman was working slowly to collect forms but a man next to her was doing nothing. “Are you open?” I asked politely. “I’m Canadian police,” he said, “and all I can do is arrest you!”
“That’s the best deal I’ve had since I entered immigration,” I explained, “what can you do for me?” He offered cozy accommodations with three meals and a sound roof, with plenty of security. We both laughed and I was finally at the woman taking forms. He told her not to let me return, and she stopped her mechanical actions and asked him soberly, “Why?”
Security was fast, but I was asked for my boarding pass—I am not making this up—six times before I was finally on my way to the gates. Some of these people were all of 10 yards apart.
Finally, I entered the Priority Club, an Amex benefit. The hostess checked me in and I asked how far my gate was from the club. Incredibly, she replied, “I’m sorry, sir, I’m not familiar with the airport.” She was actually hired and trained and never asked to familiarize herself with the airport, while dealing with passengers! And coming to work every day, she didn’t feel the need to do so!
Never feel that there is no work for consultants and performance improvement. Most immigration officers are fine people, and anyone can have a bad day. But I sensed this guy was in the midst of a bad life. Security is vital, but paranoia is dangerous. (“The price of eternal vigilance is indifference”—Marshall McLuhan, ironically, a Canadian.)
And if you don’t know what’s outside your door, you might as well be a hermit. They don’t have to commute.
© Alan Weiss 2011. All rights reserved.
Print This Post
