(or: How I Lost 15 Minutes of My Life I’ll Never Get Back… Thanks, Captain Clipboard)
So there I was — Ramp Manager, Domestic Days — already neck-deep in frozen jet fuel and equipment that’s older than most of our passengers. It’s one of those “crisp winter mornings” which is a nice way of saying “your nose hairs freeze on contact.” Between busted tugs, delayed flights, and crews doing the Arctic Shuffle just to stay warm, it’s chaos… the usual.
I finally get a break and slither into the 155 office for some quiet admin time (aka the sacred 7 minutes before the next fire). Suddenly, in walks the Director, looking like he just found a hair in his oatmeal. He’s holding a Hawkeye printout — and nothing good ever comes on Hawkeye printout paper. It’s basically the airline’s version of being served court papers.
He says, “You’ve been CC’d,” which is corporate for “You’re already in trouble, might as well enjoy the ride.” The email chain is a full-on CCpocalypse — everyone from the pilot to the CEO’s pet turtle is on it.
Apparently, Captain Keyboard Warrior filed an official complaint that his aircraft was held at the gate because gasp the Lead was sitting in the Tug. Can you believe it? Sitting. During work. While alive. Heavens!
So, now I’m on the case. I hunt down the accused — let’s call him Brad the Brave — and interrogate him in the MU3 ready room (also known as “the lounge of broken dreams and half-eaten muffins”).
Me: “Brad, what happened?”
Brad: “I backed up the Tug into the sterile zone to keep it out of the way. Then I marshaled the flight in. No big deal.”
Me: “Were you warming up inside? Tell me you were warming up so I can write a sympathy paragraph.”
Brad: “Nope. Just wanted to get it done. Lunch was next.”
What a monster.
So now I’ve got to write my report. Normally, I’d polish it up and send it through six layers of approval like a proper bureaucrat. But not today. Oh no. Today, I hit Reply All like a boss.
Here’s what I sent:
“The flight held briefly because the Lead was securing the Tug in the sterile zone to avoid contact with the aircraft. As per SOP, this is done from the seated position. You’re welcome.”
SEND.
Moments later — laughter erupts from the Director’s office. Like actual, audible laughter. Which, in management, is rarer than working GSE.
And just like that — silence from the chain. Not a peep. No angry replies. No follow-up. Just the sweet, frozen stillness of vindication.
Moral of the story?
Sometimes sitting down gets the job done.
Other times, standing up to nonsense is even better.
