What's Up - March 2014

The Food was Great… But How About the Service?

By Larry Shapiro

I know, you’ve never heard or said these words before, but I know better!  I can’t count the times I’ve said them.  I know that great food sometimes prevails over bad service, but more than often it’s the other way around.  Wonderful meals have been ruined by bad service.

We live in a world where the word “service” is used, and used often.  It is not only used often, but also used in so many other ways and sometimes misused.

On Sundays and other observed Sabbaths, “Did you enjoy the Service?”

Here are a few other examples.  “Were you ever in the Service? Yes, I served my country with honor and distinction.”  Children and wives have been heard to say, “My Daddy was in the Service,” and the mommies/wives always say those words with great pride, “Yes, my husband was in the Service.”  And of course we hear all the politicians and elected officials always thanking someone, in some type of uniform, for their service.

So I pose the question, what about those that provide us in the aviation community with service, some wearing an uniform, some not, some invisible because they are on the telephone, or on our radios?

What about those heroes that provide us with much-needed ground service?  Whether it be the fuel truck driver, an FBO host or hostess, or even those underpaid office personnel in the airport office that collect your tie-down fees, recommend a place to eat or sleep and ask what else you might need?

Wait! There’s more… (Hummm, seems like I’ve heard that before, but it included shipping and handling).

On a recent return trip from Mexico I started taking note of how many service personnel actually provided me with service and the service was all packaged differently.

I’d like you to pay attention, there may be some questions about service on the final and I want you to pass this test.

Let’s start in La Paz, Mexico a week or so ago when I called my trusty driver to take me and my wife to the airport for our return trip up North… no, not commercial via Cabo like the “others,” but to the La Paz Airport, just minutes away from our quarters, I mean Pesos.  (I know, bad joke, but remember who is writing this.)

Okay, that was number one (actually Juan, but that’s another story).  On arrival, there were two more lovely people waiting to take our luggage to our waiting 182.  There were at least three more that helped with our paperwork, including Oscar (I think he was the boss, not sure about that) and then Carmen from Calafia, one of the FBOs there. Alicia was off that day so we missed her.

Then another beauty at the security door, and yes, they actually have security and they actually take it seriously.  Remember, I’ve only been there a few minutes.  I now have the golf cart driver to carry us, and our luggage to our airplane. Another person removed our tie-down ropes, no wait, that was my wife (no, I didn’t tip her). 

Hey!  Look who is here, it’s the fuel truck driver and his assistant, one pumping the gas and the other getting the glass.  So far so good which is the way I like it.

Now the invisible ones – departure controller, the ground controller, and then the dude in the tower pleasantly clearing us for take off and looking forward to our next trip back to La Paz.

As we climbed out and up for one last look at the beauty of La Paz, my wife started commenting about the people she met – at the market, some of the restaurants, and of course, our boat Captain that I was sure she had hidden in her luggage.

I don’t have the time and space to tell you about the five yellowtails she boated, and the whales she played with – let her write her own column.

Okay, are you keeping score on the many and different services so far, and we aren’t even to 6,000 feet yet?  A little less than an hour later we were talking to the Tower at Loreto just to check in and again enjoyed more great service even if I didn’t understand every word she said.

For those of you not blessed with doing this flight, the next four hours were like traveling on the moon but with better weather, and of course water.

Okay, get your scorecard out again.   So as we continued, and I was getting just a little bored, Kimberly was playing with her iPad… I dialed in 122.8 to see if I was alone out there.  I wasn’t.  Over the next few hours I spoke with way too many people that should not have been on that Freq, but never the less, they were and I loved it.  I met a family from the wine country going the opposite direction, they promised to come by and visit with me at PAO, and they also gave me a WX up-date.   Once again, more service, no faces or uniforms, but as I’ve said, invisible service.

Now I’m in the need for another voice so it was time to check in with the tower troops and troop-lettes at the San Filipe Airport. I think they loved the check-in as much as I did.  They seldom, if ever, can give me information I’d like to have, but they are smiling and wished us a safe journey – okay, so they didn’t say journey.

A hundred miles more heading North and I’ve talked with a few much higher-paid pilots, wearing uniforms, leaving contrails in the sky, but really good at relaying messages to SoCal approach to change my ETA for Brown field where I knew I was going to be late.  By the time Tijuana answers the phone its too late and we never ever get that part right anyway.  In case you don’t know this, Brown Field is across the street from them… yes, in another country, but I wasn’t on the planning commission.

I hope you are keeping count of how many folks have provided service to us and we only saw a handful of them.

Welcome Back to America

That sound you just heard was us crossing the boarder and being cleared to land at Brown Field.  You can always tell it’s Brown because there seems to always be a few F-18s ready to roll for take off.  Why in the heck don’t they use their own field at Miramar NAS, it’s only one minute away?

Blue Line Special

So we landed, enjoyed the tower folks comment about my landing, “Nice, really nice,” and then we headed for the Blue Line and, just like the rulebook says, put your plane on the blue line and don’t move. So once again my friendly and smiling Officer Gonzales greets us at our airplane, and once again he asks the question, “Anything to declare?”  And once again I say, “yep,  … my Butt hurts, I’m happy to be here after a five-hour leg from La Paz, and I need your Toilet.”  I also mentioned I had a few hundred pounds of great fish in the cooler but no Uranium.  That’s a joke between him and me. 

Know Your Limits

After a quick trip to his office to, once again, correct the mistakes on my EAPIS (ask me what this means some other time, I’m running out of space) we were out the door for the next leg of our trip, which was a five-minute flight to Montgomery Field where we were going to RON for the night.  It’s a prudent idea not to push on home for another 3.5 hours at night after a five hour leg of flying… and besides, we heard about a great place to eat called the Studio Dinner, just off the east end of the runway. 

Are you still counting?  We got service from another dozen people and we only saw one of them.  I did want to mention that the airport office at Montgomery Field went out of their way to help us with a few boring details, and Maria from CrownAir for driving up to our airplane and offering us water for the last leg heading home.  I don’t forget service like that.  “No Lawrence!  You can’t take her home!” 

I don’t want you to get bored but you can add at least another two dozen more service providers, not counting the hotel, the dinner, the SoCal controllers, and Mother Nature for providing the great flying weather.

On Final

And On Another VERY Personal Final Note

To write this column about service and not mention that it was only possible with the support and help from some very dedicated FAA medical service providers would be in error. This column could not have been written nor the trip taken without their help.  One of the side effects of cancer, and some other related medical issues, is that they tend to cause a loss of hair and your medical.  Many of us get our medicals back – some do not.  Those that do must have patience, the FAA knows they are short handed and a little behind in their paperwork.

I knew I would be getting mine back in 60 to 90 days, providing the world didn’t come to an end.  My problem was I was schedule to leave on the above-mentioned trip in one week.  I’ll admit, I became a royal pain in the procedures, but I reached out to many for help.  I was a lucky one.  It took three civilian docs and three FAA docs to perform the miracle of getting my ticket to me before take off.  Even though many of the folks were invisible, the FAA’s Dr. Goodman and his troops danced as fast as they could, and I left for Mexico sitting on my first fresh medical in almost four years.  Please, don’t make me cry.  I’m not even sure its appropriate for me to write this, but not to mention the FAA medical department would just be bad manners and that’s not who I am. He and I have never met, but I hope we will one day… I know tipping is not allowed, but here’s one for you… don’t give up and learn how to say thank you for good SERVICE!

Until next time…

That’s Thirty! 

  “Over”