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TATTLETALE

Does any one remember when another Thindy had a problem with tattling? I'm speaking, of course, of TV's golden-haired precocious imp, Thindy Brady. If I recall the episode correctly, justice was meted out swiftly and with a heavy hand after a lot of swearing and sweating during a marathon inquisition under the hot lights. I believe, as it turned out, she was allowed to have a single Marlboro Red in exchange for a confession and an agreement to quietly leave town. I'm fairly certain that she was also publically censured. At least that's how I remember it; I may be wrong, it may have been a Full Flavored Camel. Anyway, what I'm getting at is that now, some forty years hence, we again find ourselves forced to consider another tattling Thindy, only this time without the comfort of after-school snacks and a mortgage-free living arrangements at our parents' houses. As employees of US Airways, we have all been without our after-school snacks for many years now; I can only presume that Doug has found a way to convert our metaphorical Twinkies and Yoo-Hoos into a potent sour mash for his exclusive consumption. If things don't work out at US Airways, I think Thindy the latter has a promising future as DP's personal Igor. One of the best things about being a flight attendant is the camaraderie and solidarity among co-workers (I almost changed that to "colleagues", but I had a vision of myself wearing man-made fiber and hawking SkyFun boxes, and immediately realized that "colleague" might be a little too high-falootin'), and the atmosphere of trust and understanding among us (mostly). Thindy had absolutely nothing to gain by composing the much-discussed missive, she wrote it long after the plane had left her on the ground, frustrated and plotting revenge. Perhaps she should have had a cup of the herb tea and a bit of the chocolate that she ostensibly carries for employees of off-line carriers. (Doesn't her mentioning that in her letter sort of negate the gesture? She's trying to convince the recipient of her generosity of spirit, the loftiness of her personal standards, etc., therefore negating the existence of those very qualities in my opinion.) I imagine her maintaining her composure for the benefit of the gate agent, but I bet it was quite a different story when she got out to the parking lot. I have a doctorate degree in Psychiatry from the Universtiy of Jerry Springer, and I can just about imagine the histrionics and mania that ensued once the car door was slammed shut. It must've been on par with the scene in "Mommie Dearest" when Joan Crawford, reacting to MGM's refusal to renew her contract, storms out into the rose garden in the middle of the night wearing a ball-gown and a full face of scary-clown makeup, and begins screaming, chopping down trees, all the while crying hysterically. "Tina!! Bring me the ax!!" I kind of have to think of it that way to make it a little funny, because it pisses me off.

Thindy, your Karmic ledger is now in the red. Repent, you Benedict Arnold of the proletariat! Teach orphaned monkies to read! Correspond with Death Row inmates! Undertake a fact finding mission to the Arctic! Anything, just leave the reserves alone. It's the company's job to dismiss, abuse, cheat, and steal from reserves--Doug Parker has proven himself a virtuoso when it comes to the administration of the aforementioned infamies. Just let him do the job. Fear not and rest easy, I promise we'll still be miserable, poverty-stricken, and exhausted without your poison pen.
 
Do you fly? What I mean is that...Are you a crewmember?

No...I'm not In-Flight...don't think lowly of me but I'm in Crew Resources my expertise is Crew Scheduling and Flight Operations although I am not employed right now. I'm in between jobs as I'm still finishing school.
 
No...I'm not In-Flight...don't think lowly of me but I'm in Crew Resources my expertise is Crew Scheduling and Flight Operations although I am not employed right now. I'm in between jobs as I'm still finishing school.
Please don't take my asking the wrong way. Sometimes I forget that it's not all about pilots and flight attendants here...
 
Please don't take my asking the wrong way. Sometimes I forget that it's not all about pilots and flight attendants here...

Not a problem...I hope you don't have to be a pilot or a flight attendant to gripe or whine about what's happening between fellow co-workers or someone who can relates to this...
 
Um, apparently not 🙄

Funny funny...now back on topic...What she did was not cool and I actually SAW this letter posted in the DCA Crew room earlier this morning as I was with a friend of mine and headed to the Piedmont mgr's office. WoW!
 
I can see why it would make sense to call a red-eye an "all-nighter" as you fly all night... what we mean by it though is that you are on duty all night. Some airlines, maybe even most, refer to it as a "stand-up overnight". Rather than have the minimum rest, you have two short legs with a few hours off in between. Legality-wise you wouldn't be able to do this with a longer leg.They are usually short no-serve legs. These trips used to be senior for Moms, as you're away only at night, home in time to send the kids off to school. You'd see flight attendants in the crew room with pyjamas on under thier coat to do the all-nighter. My guy pal and I have picked up the YUL all-nighter on the Embraer, we stay up all night watching movies and sleep the next day. Easy and low drama. Great trip to avoid seeing anyone.
 
700 said that Miss. Cyndy should be brought up on chargers to the Pro. Fes. com. What are the going to do at this point? Miss. Cyndy should have brought this to the com. as her first option. As far as her beef, hey, you're on duty on what ever days, you're suposed to be in base. What am I missing here?
Sort of like our days of old cleaners sleeping on the overnight A/C's 700!
 
Does any one remember when another Thindy had a problem with tattling? I'm speaking, of course, of TV's golden-haired precocious imp, Thindy Brady. If I recall the episode correctly, justice was meted out swiftly and with a heavy hand after a lot of swearing and sweating during a marathon inquisition under the hot lights. I believe, as it turned out, she was allowed to have a single Marlboro Red in exchange for a confession and an agreement to quietly leave town. I'm fairly certain that she was also publically censured. At least that's how I remember it; I may be wrong, it may have been a Full Flavored Camel. Anyway, what I'm getting at is that now, some forty years hence, we again find ourselves forced to consider another tattling Thindy, only this time without the comfort of after-school snacks and a mortgage-free living arrangements at our parents' houses. As employees of US Airways, we have all been without our after-school snacks for many years now; I can only presume that Doug has found a way to convert our metaphorical Twinkies and Yoo-Hoos into a potent sour mash for his exclusive consumption. If things don't work out at US Airways, I think Thindy the latter has a promising future as DP's personal Igor. One of the best things about being a flight attendant is the camaraderie and solidarity among co-workers (I almost changed that to "colleagues", but I had a vision of myself wearing man-made fiber and hawking SkyFun boxes, and immediately realized that "colleague" might be a little too high-falootin'), and the atmosphere of trust and understanding among us (mostly). Thindy had absolutely nothing to gain by composing the much-discussed missive, she wrote it long after the plane had left her on the ground, frustrated and plotting revenge. Perhaps she should have had a cup of the herb tea and a bit of the chocolate that she ostensibly carries for employees of off-line carriers. (Doesn't her mentioning that in her letter sort of negate the gesture? She's trying to convince the recipient of her generosity of spirit, the loftiness of her personal standards, etc., therefore negating the existence of those very qualities in my opinion.) I imagine her maintaining her composure for the benefit of the gate agent, but I bet it was quite a different story when she got out to the parking lot. I have a doctorate degree in Psychiatry from the Universtiy of Jerry Springer, and I can just about imagine the histrionics and mania that ensued once the car door was slammed shut. It must've been on par with the scene in "Mommie Dearest" when Joan Crawford, reacting to MGM's refusal to renew her contract, storms out into the rose garden in the middle of the night wearing a ball-gown and a full face of scary-clown makeup, and begins screaming, chopping down trees, all the while crying hysterically. "Tina!! Bring me the ax!!" I kind of have to think of it that way to make it a little funny, because it pisses me off.

Thindy, your Karmic ledger is now in the red. Repent, you Benedict Arnold of the proletariat! Teach orphaned monkies to read! Correspond with Death Row inmates! Undertake a fact finding mission to the Arctic! Anything, just leave the reserves alone. It's the company's job to dismiss, abuse, cheat, and steal from reserves--Doug Parker has proven himself a virtuoso when it comes to the administration of the aforementioned infamies. Just let him do the job. Fear not and rest easy, I promise we'll still be miserable, poverty-stricken, and exhausted without your poison pen.



The Golden Rule.
 

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