Exactly one day after the road trip ended Marcus and I were headed off to Dublin to meet up with Sam and Melissa and head to Madrid. In that one day back in Hull I had managed to take an exam and work all night keeping with my motto of packing everything into an already busy life.

Now, flying to Dublin has become almost second nature to me. Take a look at my well-stamped passport and you’ll see that I’ve managed to fly there every month since my virgin visit in December. It’s close, cheap, and easy. In fact I may not have ever had a problem with it. That is until SHE came along…

Actually before I exaggerate the situation too much I should be frank. Marcus and I left my house late, we got to the bus late, and in turn arrived to the airport late. It was clearly my fault. Partly because things always take longer then you expect them to and also for the reasons that I leave myself very little windows for catching planes and trains (because I can’t be asked to wait around in an airport for hours on end). My getting to the airport 45-minutes before the flight is due to leave just doesn’t sit well with RyanAir’s “check-in closes one hour before departure” policy. And it is here that Vicky and I did not see eye to eye.

As is standard of me, I arrived about 45minutes before the flight was due to leave. Normally I go to the desk, say I’m running late, and they give me my boarding card without me having to wait in the long check in-line. This is what I like. This is what I strive for. But Vicky was against me.

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Our Hero (putting on a worried and “weary traveler” look for dramatic effect): “Hi.. (be short of breath… that always tugs at the heart strings) …we’re late for check in for flight 9431.”

Woman Behind Counter: “I’m afraid that flight check in has closed.”

Our Hero: (more fake panting for air…) “I know, we’ve been delayed, can’t we check in with you?” {Here our hero debates saying “I’ve been late for flights before and know this is where you get checked in at.” He decides not to say this since it implies he is late often. He’d much prefer her to think this is the first time ever in his entire life that he has been late for a flight. “She’ll be more merciful that way…” he reasons.}

Woman: “I’m afraid not. Once it’s closed it’s closed…”

Our Hero: “Really? There is nothing we can do?” (One last gasp of air for sympathy now… “Maybe she thinks I’m asthmatic” he reasons…)

Woman: “Nope. We get fined if we do late check ins. So unless you want to pay that I…”

Our Hero: (Interrupting her) “Yeah sure I’ll pay it!”

Woman: “Well… um…(Scrambling now… No one has ever offering to pay the fine. Typically it’s just one of those things you say to the customer knowing they won’t accept…) I don’t think you can actually.”

Our Hero: “Look. This is the only flight to Dublin from this airport today. If we miss it what can we do? The airport is totally dead, there is no cue for security checkpoint even and we STILL have 40 minutes before the flight boards. Can you let us in? It would take us five minutes most to get to where we need to be…isn’t there anything we can do. I’ll pay extra fees or whatever I need to, we just have to catch this flight.”

Amazingly she is undeterred. Somewhat sympathetic but undeterred…

Our hero then asks if he can ring RyanAir customer support. He knows this won’t do any good but it’s worth a try at least…

The number they provide him with is a non-working number.

So in a polite tone he says: “I understand it’s your policy and all but could I talk to the manager. I know she’ll probably tell me everything you have but it’s worth trying right?”

The manager is called over. A waddling and disgruntled beast called Vicky Lewis. Our hero recoils at the sight of this… this… “thing”. Yet he persists in politeness nonetheless and gives her as sweet a smile he can muster under these circumstances.

The woman behind the counter explains that he’d like to speak to Vicky so she toddles over.

Our Hero: “Hi. Sorry to disturb you but you see we are running late and have missed our check in and….”

She cuts him off with a callous and soiled Yorkshire accent.

Vicky Lewis: “No. We don’t do late check ins.” Insensitivity leaks through each disgustingly pronounced word.

Our Hero: “Is there nothing we can do. I don’t mind paying more, I tried to ring the company but you don’t have a working number, and we STILL have 35 minutes before boarding even begins. We could make it no problem at all.”

Vicky Lewis: “I said no.” she snorts, flashing teeth ridden with decay.

Up to this point our hero has done his absolute best to stay calm and friendly in the situation. With the woman behind the counter he realized it wasn’t her fault, it was company policy, he was just hoping she’d forgo that out of kindness just as he does from time to time. A little humanity or fellow feeling goes a long way he reasons. A much longer way than absolute adherence to policy. But in a situation that was trying his patience already this woman, this “Vicky Lewis,” was really really wearing thin on his nerves.

“Why does it have to be her?” he wonders. “Why is it the sort of smeeggy stereotype that gives Hull its bad reputation?” But rather than ask her how it feels to only find happiness in life while watching Coronation Street, he swallows his irritation and frustration and in a purposefully cool and controlled tone that barely veiled his exasperation he asks: “What is our recourse then?”

Vicky Lewis: (clacks her fake nails against the keyboard). “It looks like there is a flight from Manchester later tonight.” she sneers.

Our Hero: “That’s our ONLY option? The plane still doesn’t leave for…”

Vicky Lewis: “No” she says in a raised voice. “She wants to argue…” he thinks. “Besides” she says, “the plane has already left.”

At this point he could stand no more. All of his politeness and sweetness was eroded. He would not yell (as she was nearly doing) but he WOULD be sarcastic.

Our Hero: “The FLIGHT has left already?” he asks in clear disbelief.

Vicky Lewis: “Yes. It got ere early so it left early/”

Our Hero: “REALLY? That’s the story you’re going to go with?”

Vicky Lewis: (undistinguishable high pitched response in anger that sounded like) “Weligenesona I dun havane tomie two thereor.”

Our Hero: “I mean, I’m not an expert on how airports work but I’m pretty sure that planes can’t leave before the set leaving time.”

Vicky Lewis: “It caaan. It’s gone already”

Our Hero: “OK, well can I get your name, so that when I get a working number and ring up the company, I can quote you as saying so.”

Vicky Lewis: (blankly) “No.” (and actually proceeds to cover up her ID badge)

Our Hero: “Really, you won’t give me your name? How about an ID number?”

Vicky Lewis; (In a tone typically reserved for expletives) “I don’t have to.”

Our Hero: “Um… ok…” (Looks at the initial woman behind the counter who is visibly embarrassed by how her manager is handling the situation.) “I’m not going to lie, you’re being a bit ridiculous.”

Vicky just scoffs, hand clutched to her chest, hiding her identity.

This kind of interchange continues for quite some time longer. Our hero using politeness and cool temperament in response to Vicky Lewis’s aggression, albeit even if sarcasm escapes his lips every once in a while. Eventually defeated our hero says:

“Well I guess I’ll have to book for the Manchester flight then.” A flight that they all know involves a bus ride back to Doncaster train station, a last minute train ticket to Manchester, and 6 hour wait, and then a £75 fee for the change in flight. As he utters the words he looks up to the clock to see that there is still 15 minutes until his flight is to board. It’s this acknowledgement of the remaining time that really disheartens our hero.

As Vicky Lewis helps book the extortionist flight she leans down enough to uncover her badge and reveal her name. A fact that he acknowledges as the transaction is concluded, he says: “Thank you Miss Lewis” and exits the airport just in time to see his intended flight taking off.

“Cheers for that Vicky…”

As I said, I know I was in the wrong according to “policy,” but as a manager you should sympathetically explain such policies rather than not be bothered to hear anything the customer has to say, be hostile, and then lie. Vicky’s behavior was childish and showed her not to have a shred of professionalism. And since she wouldn’t give her name to me, I used it as much as possible in the blog. Vicky Lewis Vicky Lewis Vicky Lewis. After all what is the point of blogging if you can’t moan one-sidedly after being bereaved.

Maybe one day, in unabashed vanity she’ll Google herself and come across this post. Maybe it’ll be just the push she needs to finally get her teeth checked out, or visit a proper hair dresser rather than letting her blind neighbor color it….

I couldn’t help one but have last jab.