The Air Stewardesses' Footmen

Ch. 3 (of 6): Post-Flight Foot Service.

BlueSky Holidays flight BH530 from Funchal to Gatwick touched down on time at 21:45. And as soon as I was off the plane, I texted my girlfriend Gemma with the unwelcome news that we would not now be going to the pub for a late drink or two due to unforeseen work commitments.

I did not elaborate. I did not tell Gemma that, having today signed a revised contract committing to abide by Chief Operating Officer Ms Gina Summers' new Subservience to Stewardesses directive, I had 'volunteered' to perform additional post-flight foot massages into the small hours of the night for the later returning air hostesses.

Expecting Gemma to phone me right back, disappointed and angrily demanding to know the reason for this latest last-minute let-down, I turned off my phone. I knew it would further infuriate Gemma, but it was a conversation I couldn't face, wanted to put off for as long as possible.

By the time I got home from work, Gemma would have long since gone to bed and would be fast asleep.

But my reprieve would be short-lived. Tomorrow, when Gemma arrived home from her 8 - 5 behind the counter job at the local big-chain DIY superstore, there would be no more putting it off.

***

The busiest period for returning cabin crews was 22:00 - 02:00.

And the time was 22:10 when I arrived in the BlueSky Holidays crew room for the routine debrief and the Duty-Frees money count, accompanied by my flight supervisor Senior Stewardess Donna Didsbury and the four air hostesses from our flight: Julie, Analise, Pamela and Deborah.

The rows of stackable seats from the early afternoon meeting of cabin crewmen had been removed and stored away. Now, nothing remained to suggest that the summoned attendance of 100-plus Gatwick-based and regional airport-based BlueSky Holidays male cabin crew had been anything other than a discomfiting daydream and had ever taken place.

But the meeting had taken place. And for the vast majority of attendees, it had been more a waking nightmare than a discomfiting daydream.

And after the resultant mass resignation of ninety-plus per cent of cabin crewmen, I was one of just twelve surviving BlueSky Holidays male cabin crew. One of the twelve cabin crewmen, who had agreed to be revised-contracted, committed to honour the COO Ms Gina Summers' new Subservience to Stewardesses directive and accept the COO's other pay and conditions related disimprovements and disadvantages.

I was one of the six cabin crewmen based at Gatwick Airport. The other six were stationed at BlueSky Holidays' six regional airports: Manchester, Birmingham, Stansted, Cardiff, Belfast, and Glasgow. This coincidental equal spread had pleased the chief recruiting officer, Chief Stewardess Lois Lawson. I recalled the delighted Ms Lawson's remarks to Ms Summers at the contract renewal sign-up desk: "The cabin crewmen have gone from no one to someone, from nonentity to novelty. I can imagine our hosties there vying to have their solitary cabin crewman working on their flight!"

Two other revised-contracted cabin crewmen were also now in the crew room: Cabin Crewmen Terry and Darren.

From speaking to Terry after today's meeting of cabin crewmen, I knew that both Terry and Darren had a flight duty to Spain. I wondered if their flights had been delayed; they should have been finished up here by now.

Terry had been at the front of the queue to sign his revised contract. Inexplicably Terry was smiling after he had signed his name on the dotted line; in fact, he was grinning like an idiot. Terry was smiling then, and he was smiling even more foolishly now.

The most recently returned air hostesses were seated at the debrief/money-counting tables.

But seated throne-like on stackable chairs in two groups of three, six air hostesses enjoyed, or were in-waiting, to enjoy their new contractual entitlement: a post-flight foot massage performed by a cabin crewman.

One of the feted trios was attended by the knee-bound Terry; the other trio, by the similarly knee-bound Darren. The two centrally seated, foot service receiving air hostesses were flanked by two in-waiting stewardesses from their crew, who apparently assumed their privilege to include the use of their after-flight footman's shoulders as their footrest.

The absent half of the six remaining Gatwick-based cabin crewmen were Tony, Glen and Greg. I'd noticed from the duty roster when I'd reported for work that they weren't in today - that is, apart from their required attendance of the male cabin crew meeting at the summons of Chief Operating Officer Ms Gina Summers. After signing their revised contracts, they would have gone home - or, and more likely, they would have gone straight to the pub for a much-needed stiffener before facing their wives or girlfriends with their unwelcome news. And I didn't envy them, defending the ranting reproaches and enduring the raving rebukes of their disapproving and discontented significant other as in outraged incredulity they perused the new terms and conditions of their revised contracts.

If I could point to the main contributory factor of today's mass walk-out resignation of cabin crewmen, it would have to be Ms Gina Summers' introduction of the kneeling mat. At the early afternoon meeting, Ms Summers had announced that all cabin crewmen who signed a revised contract would be issued with their own company-logoed, corporate colour sky-blue piece of foam-rubber matting to kneel on. And Ms Summers had decreed that the use of the one-inch thick, one-foot square kneeling mat, the symbolic epitome of new-era Subservience to Stewardesses directive conformity, was compulsory for the performance of post-flight foot service.

So now, on their kneeling mats, Terry and Darren were silently administering foot massages to returned air hostesses; silently, because Ms Gina Summers had decreed the observance of silence mandatory too.

Terry and Darren, massaging the tired and achy feet of one stackable chair seated air hostess, while two others awaiting their turn, put up their feet on their silence-observing after-flight footman's shoulders.

Terry was massaging the dark pantyhosed feet of his flight supervisor, Senior Stewardess Jasmine; Darren, massaging the dark nyloned feet of his flight supervisor, Senior Stewardess Amelia.

To say I was taken aback at what I beheld in the crew room would not begin to describe my discomposure. Foreknowledge of tonight's inauguration and of my own after-flight obligations was no preparation.

Observing the actualities of post-flight foot service, of which I would be prevailed upon to provide for my own female cabin crew members as their after-flight footman, I went shaky at the knees. For, the two stackable-chair seated trios of returned air hostesses availing themselves of their male counterparts' new after-shift function did so with domineering forthrightness.

But what captured my attention was the antics of the two pairs of outer seated, in-waiting air hostesses - the outriders, as it were.

What captivated me was the smug looks on the faces of the 'outriders'. Slyly smirking as with ankles comfortably crossed, they heel-popped or dangled and swung an after-work uniform black three-inch heel pump beside their obediently knee-bound and silence observing post-flight footman's face.

I had worked with all of these air hostesses, some of them many times, and I knew them quite well.

Or I thought I did, until now.

Because now, it was as if the air hostesses were revealing their alter egos. Safely coming out of their shells in triumphant emergence. Emboldened by their new empowerments under the Subservience to Stewardesses directive, the two trios of stackable-chair seated air hostesses imperiously ruled their revised-contracted counterparts, Terry and Darren.

Waiting to sit on one of the two outer in-waiting seats before their turn to occupy the central, foot service seat, spectating air hostesses gathered around the two throne-like seated trios, offering technique-improving tips to their novice post-flight foot masseur and giving plaudits for a promising opening-night performance.

Terry, it was clear, was receiving most of the appreciative acclaim from the queueing onlookers for genuine effort and satisfactory application.

Terry seemed much less disturbed and discomposed, much less bothered and embarrassed by this triumphal taunting treatment at the feet of his throne-like seated female counterpart trio and their in-the-queue commentators than was Darren. In fact, Terry was looking rather smug himself. Terry seemed to entirely enjoy facilitating his new after-flight function. Not put out at all, at being the butt of belittling banter, the sorry subject of jokes, the ignominious object of jibes, a two-hostie footstool, and a knee-bound muted foot servant.

But while Terry was taking the newly empowered air hostesses' First-Night overexuberance all in good part as well as taking it all in his stride, it was clear that Darren was the reluctant participant in what he considered his reduced-status ridicule.

Knee-bound and mute, massaging the dark nyloned soles of his centrally seated flight supervisor Senior Stewardess Amelia, Darren submitted with poor grace and tolerated with ill humour the olfactory torments of his two shoulder-footstool availing 'outriders'. Darren did not take in good part the next-to-the-face heel-popping and pump dangling of his in-waiting outer seated female counterparts nor take in his stride their triumphant taunts.

This crew room tableau had quite an impact, too, upon air hostess Deborah.

For air hostess Deborah, the splendid spectacle of silence observing cabin crewmen on their knees on the crew room floor at the dark nyloned feet of two trios of throne-like seated returned air hostesses was an unadulterated delight and a delicious thrill. And that Terry and Darren's debut post-flight foot massage performances were so avidly watched and enthusiastically commented on by the in-the-queue observers was to her especially pleasing and the icing on the First-Night cake.

To merely say that air hostess Deborah was looking forward with eager anticipation to tonight's inauguration of post-flight foot service since the COO Ms Gina Summers' dramatic declaration this afternoon would be an understatement and an oversimplification.

Tormented in-flight by the grievous occupational-hazard foot soreness that the former stewardess Captain Amanda Mandelson had termed 'the affliction common to air hostesses', in her growing discomfort Deborah had looked at me meaningfully - not only Deborah but her mostly. Displaying advanced symptoms of the 'affliction' as her anguishment intensified during our return flight to Gatwick, air hostess Deborah had become increasingly transparent through her doe-eyed, telepathic messaging that she urgently wanted me, desperately needed me - craved me. Distressed to distraction by her need for urgent relief, Deborah was anxious to return to the crew room, impatient to partake for the first time of the soothing deliverance and not least the indescribable gratification of a cabin crewman-provided post-flight foot massage.

And now, Deborah's dreamily imagined desires about to be converted from fantasy to reality, Deborah could not mask the extent of her elation. And, letting rip her uncontainable peal of anticipatory pleasure, the ecstatic air hostess Deborah grabbed hold of my uniform sky-blue tie. "Come on, Mason!" the overjoyed Deborah adjured in unbridled jubilation. "Let's get your new kneeling mat! My feet are killing me!"

Senior Stewardess Donna hurriedly interceded. "Whoa! Not so fast, Debs. I'm sorry, but I'm pulling rank. I'm first with our man Mason. You, Pamela, Julie and Analise will have to wait for your turns. Oh, but wait... it looks like you might be in luck! Jasmine and her four hosties have released Terry, and Amelia and her four hosties are letting Darren go. How fortunate! I think they are all getting ready to go home."

Air hostess Deborah, still reluctant to let go of my tie, said, "What do you mean, Donna? How are we in luck?"

"Debs, once Jasmine and Amelia and their crews have left, there will be just us five hosties in the crew room. And according to the crew room Arrivals board, it will be over an hour before the next returning hostie crews get here. So you could ask Terry and Darren if they would like to show us some First-Day willingness under the COO's new Subservience to Stewardesses directive. Tell them they might earn a good word from us for Ms Gina Summers' dossiers on them if they come over here with their helping hands and their kneeling mats to assist their overburdened colleague Mason with his new post-flight foot massage duties. We can put their agreeability to the test. Give them both an opportunity to make an excellent early impression by responding positively to your proposal and agreeing to stay behind a bit longer for you, Pam, Julie and Analise."

"Donna... um, do you think they would?" air hostess Deborah asked uncertainly. "Terry and Darren have already provided post-flight foot massages for all five female members of their respective cabin crews. So I really wouldn't like to ask. I mean, well, is it fair on them? It seems like an abuse of our new powers over them. A sort of... imposition."

"Debs, really. Has it not sunk in with you yet that we now have the upper hand? That we hosties wield real, actual power over our cabin crewmen? And after all, Debs, you are giving them a choice. It is their lookout if they choose to disoblige us, their problem if they decide to disappoint us. Fair, or not, Terry and Darren should be agreeable. They should have the sense to capitalise on this fortuitous opportunity to please us newly empowered air hostesses. Yes, we are imposing on them as you say, but now it is all about how agreeably they respond to being imposed upon. They should make the most of their lucky chance to beg our benevolence, solicit our support, appeal for our provisional patronage. After all, it is in their best interests to do their absolute utmost to gain the conditional backing of at least one of their female counterparts to champion them. To have one or more hosties in their corner, as their only effective defence against the terminal intentions of Ms Gina Summers."

Air hostess Pamela said, "Yes, I see your point, Donna. And I agree with you. As you say, Terry and Darren are bound to be agreeable. They should bend over backwards in their eagerness to ingratiate themselves with us. They should strive to win our favour, hope to earn a good word from us or even merit a glowing comment in the Cabin Crewman Conduct Report, commendations that will look good when Ms Summers reviews them. And it is not as if it is all one-way. I would step in and speak on behalf of any cabin crewman summoned to Ms Gina Summers on a disciplinary issue and especially a terminal matter if he has consistently proved himself agreeable to me in his post-flight foot service. And it would be a good and useful thing to have more than just one cabin crewman in my debt for protecting or even saving their job, who in their gratitude for my patronage and continued proviso protection would then be even more diligent in their general work conduct in-flight and all the more agreeable particularly in the performance of their after-flight foot service."

"Yes, exactly, Pam. 'Agreeable' is the revised-contracted cabin crewman's catchphrase, his behavioural byword," said Senior Stewardess Donna. "In her address to the cabin crewmen today, Ms Gina Summers reiterated the perfect aptness. Agreeability, she said, is the name of the cabin crewman's game in this new era of the Subservience to Stewardesses directive. And now, our last remaining cabin crewmen can have no remaining doubt that their jobs are existentially threatened by the COO's females-first agenda - and that, from today, we hosties can influence their fates. We can approve the conditional continuation of their reduced-status employment, advise a stern rebuke or a final warning - even recommend their immediate termination to the COO Ms Gina Summers."

Air hostess Julie sighed deeply. It was a sad sigh of tragic regret. "Oh, this would have to happen, wouldn't it?" bemoaned Julie, her profound dejection evident in her woe-toned voice. "It's incredibly dispiriting because, like all of our hosties, I've been so looking forward to celebrating tonight's inaugural occasion. But I've only myself to blame for my intense disappointment."

Air hostess Deborah said concernedly, "Why? What is the matter, Jules?"

"I told you on our outbound flight, Debs. Remember? I hadn't worn in my new shoes a bit as I normally do before wearing them for flight duty. And now, the balls of my feet and the bottoms of my heels are rubbed raw. So as great is the appeal of having a muted cabin crewman on his knees at my feet, I couldn't possibly enjoy a foot massage tonight administered by a green, first-time footman."

"Oh! What a shame, Jules!" condoled air hostess Deborah.

"Yes. So, much as it pains me to say it, Debbie, I'll have to leave you, Analise and Pam to decide between you who first gets to have the inexperienced Cabin Crewmen Terry and Darren kneeling obediently and silently at their feet. I'll just have to be happy with sitting by and watching the rest of you enjoy our new post-flight entitlement until we are ready to do our debrief and our Duty-Frees money count."

Air hostess Analise sighed her own despairing disappointment and said, "Well, that makes two of us. Because I'm not up to it tonight, either. And like Julie, I have no one to blame but myself. They were only fit for the bin, but I didn't replace my worn-out and near-cushionless insoles because I wanted to get just a little bit more service out of them; just one more flight duty, I told myself. But, I not only ruined my pantyhose, but my feet are murdering me. I'm like Julie, there are just too many tender spots on my soles tonight, and the last thing I need is a cack-handed cabin crewman making things worse with his clueless opening-night ineptitude. It's a crying shame to have to miss out on a post-flight foot massage given by one of our male colleagues. And on this, the first day of the enactment of our special empowerment over them. So, it grieves me to say it, but I'll have to forego my new foot service entitlement tonight; I'll just sit by and watch with Julie. After our post-flight debrief and the Duty-Frees money count, I'll head off home with you, Julie. Or how about an after-shift glass of wine? Shall we call in at Cindy's Wine Bar?"

Senior Stewardess Donna said, "Okay, then. Julie and Analise, I'll excuse you both from debrief. And Pam, Debs and I can take care of the Duty-Frees money count. You can head off home now if you like; if you are so severely footsore that you don't want to wait your turn for Mason or for Terry or Darren's post-flight foot service, assuming they are agreeable."

Air hostess Julie said, "Thanks, Donna. We'll head off home then. Via Cindy's Wine Bar for a glass or two of Pino Griggio. Let's go, Analise."

"Well, Donna!" said air hostess Deborah cheerily. "Analise and Jules did that nicely - wangled themselves an early escape to Cindy's! No - I'm just kidding. But it has worked out well. Assuming Terry and Darren are agreeable, the remaining three of us have all got our own after-flight footman! Well, Donna, you have the power of rank, and you have made it very clear that you particularly want Mason at your feet. So, before Terry and Darren get any ideas about slinking off home or heading down to the pub for a late pint, I'll see if I can intercept them and secure their voluntary additional after-flight foot services for Pam and me."

Senior Stewardess Donna said, "Well, Debs, I am sure you will have no problem with Terry. But if you want to grab hold of Darren, who loves his after-work pint, you will have to be quick. Amelia is still having a word with Darren. But his antenna is twitching. He is looking over at us as if sensing danger, picking up a menacing vibe. And if I am right, Darren suspects trouble of the collar-grabbing, pint-depriving kind. So Debs, if you want to scupper Darren's lager-swilling intentions, you will have to collar him right now!"