I am not about to let Hollywood get away with all the fun. If they can make movies about snakes on planes, I am going to throw a story into the blogosphere about tuxes on planes. I actually have two stories, and some friends reminded me recently about the common thread that makes these two incidents an important lesson to me about customer service and my belief that people are mostly looking for ways to be helpful. Sometimes it’s easier if you’re wearing a tux. Sometimes you just have to ask them.
I have boarded airplanes wearing a tuxedo on two different occasions. Neither moment was as glamorous as it may sound, but both were unforgettable.
1) The Wedding – and the kindness of the benefit of the doubt
The first incident took place over a decade ago in Dallas, Texas. I had just been part of the wedding of a cousin to a dear friend. It was a wonderful day filled with family and friends. The party was beautiful, outshined only by the gorgeous bride. But in a foreshadowing of things to come in my life, no sooner had she thrown her bouquet than I found myself in the rental car tearing down the highway for the airport. I was late for the last flight out of Dallas on my way to Salt Lake. The next morning was my brother’s graduation and the entire family (including family matriarch my Grandma Rose) was going to be there. I couldn’t miss it. So off I went to the airport, thinking I would have time to change out of my tux and into more basic travelwear somewhere along the way. No such luck. Only 10 minutes into the trip it was clear I would be lucky to make the flight. Traffic was horrible and my suitcase was in the trunk, so even a Clark Kent-esque attempt to change while en route was impossible. I got to the airport with only minutes to spare and found that boarding had already closed.
This is where I need to remind my dear readers that this tale takes place in a pre-9/11 reality…but you will soon know why for yourself.
I desperately approached the check-in desk of America West airlines and threw myself on the mercy of the check-in agents. “I have GOT to get out of Dallas tonight!” I declared with admittedly overdone drama. “This is going to break my heart if I don’t get out.” Now that I look back at these words, I realize how misleading the drama must have been, but in my haste I honestly wasn’t thinking about it. And I definitely had forgotten the tuxedo I was wearing and the white rose pinned to my lapel.
At that moment I met what will always for me be the quintessence of Texan kindness. “Well, honey, let’s get you out here” replied the ticket agent. She handed me what appeared to be a blank piece of ticketing paper, wrote something on it, and pushed me through the security line telling me she was telling the plane to wait. Her name was Cindy. It’s etched in my mind as clearly as the image of her blonde hair, her kind smile, the sound of her thick Texan accent and the feel of her forceful but compassionate grasp.
Cindy at one point revealed what was behind her kindness. In an attempt to protect my feelings, she quietly whispered into her radio “I’m coming to the gate with a groom that looks like he’s been left at the altar. The boy’s obviously been crying. Let’s get him out of here. Please be ready to open the cabin door. The desk is working on the ticket.”
Gasp. I overheard this and immediately understood what was happening. Cindy had the wrong idea, and I’d led her astray. She was breaking every rule in the air transportation book and I was clearly benefitting from it. And, by the way, of course I had been crying, Cindy! It was a beautiful wedding. A real cry-worthy walk down the aisle. What was a sensitive modern-age-man to do? Now I was feeling as emasculated as I was sheepish about the misunderstanding that was turing into high drama on the high skies. But the goal was getting to that graduation, and I couldn’t waste a second if I was going to make that flight.
A few hurried seconds later Cindy pushed me forward with the commands of “run, honey, run! You’ll get out of here, you’ll be OK.” I made a weak attempt to set the record straight with her, but she wouldn’t have it. “It’s OK, honey. I figured it was something important, now just go and enjoy. You’re in first class. Now run!”
Cindy perceived the degree of my needs as a customer — as a person — and spent more time solving my problem than deciphering the story I’d offered her. Like a nurse, she triaged the situation in the very best way, and it paid off. I remained a loyal customer of America West, wrote letters to the airline, and told the story as widely as I could. (If only I’d been blogging in my college years!). And, indeed, Cindy bumped me to first class. The flight attendants doted on me and I vowed on that day I would be kind to every flight attendant on every flight I’d take for the rest of my life. By giving me the benefit of the doubt, and skipping ahead to what I needed, she taught me a lot about the power of simply being nice.
2) The Emmy’s – and the kindness of empathy
The second time I boarded a plane in a tux it was a decade later, a few tuxedo sizes higher, and a coast away. I was on the last plane out of Los Angeles after attending the Emmy’s. I never thought I would have the chance to walk the red carpet with the Hollywood movers-and-shakers that make the stars shine in Hollywood. It is about as fun as it sounds, and both occasions have been unforgettable for me. I have very dear, generous friends in the industry to thank for the chance to use the Emmy’s as a chance to combine my profession (PR that helps change the world for the better) with my vocation (a love for connecting people) and my vice (celebrities and TV). This is not a huge revelation for any who know me. It is a combination of some of my favorite things.
This year I needed to schmooze the after party, seal a few relationships that would be useful at work and run off to the airport as quickly as possible to be in New York the next morning at the opening of the UN General Assembly week. Late arrival was not an option, and I had planned my escape from LA with Swiss precision. Unlike the first time I boarded a tux, I had planned things a little better. I had a change of clothing in my carry-on and was ready to change in the airport so I could at least be comfortable for the red-eye coach flight for New York.
All these great plans again went awry when, even though I had arrived in time to board, the flight attendants explained the plane was already full and that any passengers in the back of the plane (me!) needed to check their bags at the gate. As soon as I heard these words, I panicked. The closest restroom was yards away, I was one of the last to board, and I was facing an exhausting few hours in a middle coach seat in a tux. While I, in my humble opinion, would make coach look better in my formal duds, it was not going to be a comfy night.
At that moment I caught a glance from a flight attendant who perceived my predicament and called me over to the side of the jetway. “Grab something out of your bag and just bring it on. I’ll take care of everything for you.” There are no finer words in customer service. At that moment when someone tells you they will take on your burdens and “to-do” list, you want to invest in them, in the brand they represent, and aspire to be the kind of people that they are. Carlos (again, a name I won’t forget. Once someone in service takes on Samaritan-like qualities for you, their names are stuck in your mind) made good on his promise. He closed off the back section of the airplane with the service curtain, stood guard while the pilot made her announcements, and handed me a clothes hanger. His next set of instructions showed that he was as empathetic as he was efficient. “I’ll hang your tux in the first class closet so you don’t get charged for crumpling it up when you return it. Even though they clean these they can charge you if they think you’ve been tough on it. I hate getting charged for stuff like that.” Carlos didn’t know that the tux was mine, and wanted to make sure that I avoided an unpleasant experience he had gone through earlier in his life. A few minutes later I was comfortably in my jeans and a sweater, uncomfortably sandwiched and seated in seat 39B but knew my tux was hanging with the coats of the beautiful people in First Class.
Carlos made it clear that he understood what I was going through and wanted to make sure I got some help. He took extra steps to help me enjoy the journey I was on and reminded me that we all have this same opportunity. Whether we are flight attendants, PR guys, CEOs or Cub Scouts, we can find ways to give people the benefit of the doubt, let them know we empathize with their situation, and help take care of their needs.
It was circumstance, coincidence and a tuxedo that helped me learned this lesson. But it was a man named Carlos and a woman named Cindy who inspire me to put it into practice. I’ll be on the lookout for those frantic guys in tuxedos in my own life — the people who need me to go above and beyond to make their lives a little bit easier. Chances are it won’t be as easy as spotting a big Armenian man in a black tie running for a plane, but shouldn’t be tough if I have excellent customer service in my sights.