I want to share a story from back when I officially became a permanent Lead Station Attendant on the ramp.
It was early in my time as a Lead—just about a week into the role. I was working flight AC795 to LAX, a gut-loaded Boeing 767. As we were loading the final container into the aft hold, I noticed a discrepancy. The container number didn’t match what was listed on the load sheet.
So, I did what any good Lead would do—I corrected the container number, called it into Load Control, and reported the error. We closed the aircraft up, and honestly, my crew and I were just looking forward to dispatching the flight and finally grabbing a bite to eat—we were already five hours into our shift without a lunch break.
As the aircraft was taxiing to the runway, here comes our ramp manager—I’ll change his name out of respect, let’s call him Bruce Johansson. Bruce storms over in a panic, twitching like he just drank six espressos, telling me he heard from Load Control that there was an issue with the last container we loaded. He demanded I confirm whether it was indeed a Priority container.
Now, I’m not sure if it was because I was a new Lead or what, but Bruce clearly didn’t trust me. I calmly told him, yes—it was a Priority can, the number was different from the load sheet, I corrected it, and I already reported it.
Here’s where it gets wild: Bruce, who by the way had been my ramp training instructor—and I wasn’t just any student, I was top of the class—decided to override everything and had flight AC795 called back from the threshold of the runway.
So we park the aircraft, grab the loader, open the aft cargo door, and pull the can from the doorway.
Sure enough—guess what?
I was right.
It was the Priority can I’d said it was all along.
Bruce absolutely lost it—throws his clipboard and radio on the ground in a fit. After he finally cools down, he says, “Okay, lock it up and dispatch it.”
I looked at him and said, “Nope. We haven’t eaten in over five hours. Get another crew. We’re outta here.”
And as we were walking away, I added, “Next time, have some faith in us. Oh—and by the way, you’re going to need an airstart.”
Moral of the story:
Trust the people you trained, especially when they’ve earned their stripes. A good leader leads, but a great one believes in their team.
