Searching for commercial sense
I do indeed search for instances of commercial sense taking over common sense. It is fun, it is sad and given the world we live in, it is not all that bad.
So then, there I was. With one suitcase in hand and a laptop laden backpack, I stepped out of the delightful lightrail that brought me from Beaverton Transit Center (BTC) to Portland International Airport in little more than an hour. A fascinating journey that took me through the city center and gave a glimpse of the early morning traffic, while reassuringly avoiding all of it. Equally fascinating would be my flight from Portland to Sanjose, I told myself. I had never been on an aircraft run by the exotic sounding "Alaskan airlines" for one and then the prospect of meeting so many of my dear friends in the bay area was exciting. So it was with lot of anticipation that I brought myself to face the "help yourself" checkin machine of the Alaskan airlines.
With little effort and lot of skepticism about my technical capabilities, I was able to print a boarding pass from the machine. Victoriously, I marched to the nearest manned counter that said "Baggage drop". As I dropped the baggage, the friendly man at the counter warned me, rather hesitantly, that the flight I was about to board might be delayed by at least an hour. He was young looking and cheerful. And I was used to flights being delayed. Matching his cheerfulness, I thanked him for checking in my baggage and marched off towards the gates.
Being a man given to unnecessary detail, I rechecked the status of my flight on the TV screens that were looking down from the ceiling of the airport building. To my utter horror, the status against the flight I was supposed to board said "Cancelled" ! I was petrified and clueless. What do I do now? The people at the Alaskan counter were all acting busy and there was no sign of a flight being cancelled. There were lot of meaningless announcements on the public addressing system but none about the cancelled flight. I was not sure of myself and had to find another bunch of hanging TVs to reconfirm the flight status. I rushed back to talk to the young looking and cheerful agent. There suddenly seemed to be a lot more people in the checkin area. And given the inclination of the civilized humanity to appear dignified in the face of crisis, I'd have been looked down as a boor if I had madly rushed to a position at the top of the counter that I just relinquished. And so, looking dignified in the face of crisis, I stood in the line waiting for my opportunity to talk to a customer service agent.
Finally, it was my turn to talk to the agent. I approached her timidly, showed her my boarding pass and expressed my concern about the cancelled flight. With a broad smile, the lady at the counter said, "You are absolutely correct sir. Your flight indeed is cancelled". I was wanting to hear more from her about what I should be doing now. No information came forth. I had a very distinct feeling of commercial sense being at work there. "What do I do now?", I asked. " A very good question", said the lady. She had no suggestions still. I stood there staring at her face. And she was staring at the computer screen equally intently. She finally looked up from the computer and asked "So, what do you want to do sir?". Was this a game? Was it not supposed to be the airline's problem when a flight gets cancelled? Should they not be telling me what to do? I already told them what I wanted to do when I bought the ticket. I wanted to go to Sanjose. That is all I care about. So I told her. She was impatient and I was growing suspicious that somehow my asian looks were bothering her. It probably was not true but why was she not helping me?
After a brief while she suggested that I should travel to one of Sanfrancisco or Oakland as the next flight to Sanjose is going to be late. I had no clue where these other places were or how far they were from Sanjose. And as usual, she did not supply any information until I probed her with stupid sounding questions about how far Oakland was from Sanjose. She fumbled with the keyboard and came up with the number 20. I asked her to wait and called up my friend who was planning to pick me up from the airport. He was nice enough to let me make any choice and said he'd pick me up from any of the three places. So, I told the lady to book me on the Oakland flight. "Oops!" was the response. "That seat is gone now, sir". So, why did you ask me to take it, I wanted to ask. The quest for dignity in the framework of civilization held me back again. My only option, she said, was to wait for another four hours and board the flight to Sanjose. And if I don't decide quickly I might not be able to board that flight too, she warned ever so gently. Commercial sense at play. There just weren't enough people traveling to Sanjose to justify so many flights, I thought. Hurriedly, I asked her to confirm me on the next flight to Sanjose. After some drama and dumb questioning about the checked in luggage, she let me off with a $6 coupon for lunch and $25 discount coupon on my next flight on Alaskan airlines (Like I was going to use it !).
With the coupons in my pocket, I marched off looking for some lunch places in the airport. Eventually, I ate my coupon fed lunch, boarded the flight, listened to a lot of nonsense about how great Alaskan airlines was and finally, after a further half hour delay, was on my way to Sanjose.
Never again, I wanted to tell myself. But with commercial sense as the guiding philosophy, would I be able to escape this kind of experience? The airline doesn't matter, it could've happened on any of the airlines. The shabbiness of communication, the indifferent attitude and later, self glorification all reeked of the commercial sense at work. Why should I even bother? I should be able to understand the whole incident, shrug my shoulders and be saying "Makes sense !"
So then, there I was. With one suitcase in hand and a laptop laden backpack, I stepped out of the delightful lightrail that brought me from Beaverton Transit Center (BTC) to Portland International Airport in little more than an hour. A fascinating journey that took me through the city center and gave a glimpse of the early morning traffic, while reassuringly avoiding all of it. Equally fascinating would be my flight from Portland to Sanjose, I told myself. I had never been on an aircraft run by the exotic sounding "Alaskan airlines" for one and then the prospect of meeting so many of my dear friends in the bay area was exciting. So it was with lot of anticipation that I brought myself to face the "help yourself" checkin machine of the Alaskan airlines.
With little effort and lot of skepticism about my technical capabilities, I was able to print a boarding pass from the machine. Victoriously, I marched to the nearest manned counter that said "Baggage drop". As I dropped the baggage, the friendly man at the counter warned me, rather hesitantly, that the flight I was about to board might be delayed by at least an hour. He was young looking and cheerful. And I was used to flights being delayed. Matching his cheerfulness, I thanked him for checking in my baggage and marched off towards the gates.
Being a man given to unnecessary detail, I rechecked the status of my flight on the TV screens that were looking down from the ceiling of the airport building. To my utter horror, the status against the flight I was supposed to board said "Cancelled" ! I was petrified and clueless. What do I do now? The people at the Alaskan counter were all acting busy and there was no sign of a flight being cancelled. There were lot of meaningless announcements on the public addressing system but none about the cancelled flight. I was not sure of myself and had to find another bunch of hanging TVs to reconfirm the flight status. I rushed back to talk to the young looking and cheerful agent. There suddenly seemed to be a lot more people in the checkin area. And given the inclination of the civilized humanity to appear dignified in the face of crisis, I'd have been looked down as a boor if I had madly rushed to a position at the top of the counter that I just relinquished. And so, looking dignified in the face of crisis, I stood in the line waiting for my opportunity to talk to a customer service agent.
Finally, it was my turn to talk to the agent. I approached her timidly, showed her my boarding pass and expressed my concern about the cancelled flight. With a broad smile, the lady at the counter said, "You are absolutely correct sir. Your flight indeed is cancelled". I was wanting to hear more from her about what I should be doing now. No information came forth. I had a very distinct feeling of commercial sense being at work there. "What do I do now?", I asked. " A very good question", said the lady. She had no suggestions still. I stood there staring at her face. And she was staring at the computer screen equally intently. She finally looked up from the computer and asked "So, what do you want to do sir?". Was this a game? Was it not supposed to be the airline's problem when a flight gets cancelled? Should they not be telling me what to do? I already told them what I wanted to do when I bought the ticket. I wanted to go to Sanjose. That is all I care about. So I told her. She was impatient and I was growing suspicious that somehow my asian looks were bothering her. It probably was not true but why was she not helping me?
After a brief while she suggested that I should travel to one of Sanfrancisco or Oakland as the next flight to Sanjose is going to be late. I had no clue where these other places were or how far they were from Sanjose. And as usual, she did not supply any information until I probed her with stupid sounding questions about how far Oakland was from Sanjose. She fumbled with the keyboard and came up with the number 20. I asked her to wait and called up my friend who was planning to pick me up from the airport. He was nice enough to let me make any choice and said he'd pick me up from any of the three places. So, I told the lady to book me on the Oakland flight. "Oops!" was the response. "That seat is gone now, sir". So, why did you ask me to take it, I wanted to ask. The quest for dignity in the framework of civilization held me back again. My only option, she said, was to wait for another four hours and board the flight to Sanjose. And if I don't decide quickly I might not be able to board that flight too, she warned ever so gently. Commercial sense at play. There just weren't enough people traveling to Sanjose to justify so many flights, I thought. Hurriedly, I asked her to confirm me on the next flight to Sanjose. After some drama and dumb questioning about the checked in luggage, she let me off with a $6 coupon for lunch and $25 discount coupon on my next flight on Alaskan airlines (Like I was going to use it !).
With the coupons in my pocket, I marched off looking for some lunch places in the airport. Eventually, I ate my coupon fed lunch, boarded the flight, listened to a lot of nonsense about how great Alaskan airlines was and finally, after a further half hour delay, was on my way to Sanjose.
Never again, I wanted to tell myself. But with commercial sense as the guiding philosophy, would I be able to escape this kind of experience? The airline doesn't matter, it could've happened on any of the airlines. The shabbiness of communication, the indifferent attitude and later, self glorification all reeked of the commercial sense at work. Why should I even bother? I should be able to understand the whole incident, shrug my shoulders and be saying "Makes sense !"
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