Pretty Peeved About The Pink
When my parents were still married, they’d attend Mary Kay’s annual seminar, joining thousands of people who descended on Dallas every July to recognize outstanding salespeople and for further enrichment in leadership and success. The flights down were relatively peaceful, but one of their first times coming back, they ran into a problem. Since this happened in the late eighties, my parents can no longer remember the exact cause, but according to the airline…
Representative: “It’s all you Mary Kay people! Maybe if you weren’t so busy playing with each other’s makeup and admiring each other’s pink cars, the flight out of Dallas wouldn’t have been so late!”
Mom: “What happened with the flight was beyond our control; the seminar had nothing to do with it. Now, could you please tell me if there’s a flight back to Lansing yet tonight, or do we have to make other plans?”
The representative barely pretended to check her computer.
Representative: “You’re out of luck. The next flight to Lansing leaves at nine o’clock tomorrow morning. And I’m out of hotel vouchers and out of patience because it’s time for my break.”
And she walked away without waiting for my parents’ decision.
Sadly, that woman was so focused on being spiteful to whoever she’d pegged as being associated with Mary Kay that she didn’t notice who else she was hurting — namely the two elderly ladies standing behind my parents. After listening to my parents debate whether it was better to rent a car or to try to find a motel room and hope that there would be no more problems, they plucked up the courage to say:
Lady #1: “Excuse us. We wouldn’t usually ask a favor of complete strangers, but…”
Lady #2: “Our brother is dying at [Hospital], and we’re worried that if we wait for [Airline] to fly us back tomorrow morning, it might be too late.”
Lady #1: “Could we possibly ride back to Lansing with you? It would mean a lot, and we’d be willing to give you gas money.”
Lady #2: “You wouldn’t even have to take us to [Hospital]. We have a room at [Motel on the west side].”
My parents didn’t even have to discuss it. Helping sisters in need was far more appealing than giving the airline representative the satisfaction of watching them trying to get comfortable on the floor overnight.
It was late when the four of them got back into town, but my parents were rewarded with a call the next afternoon confirming that the ladies had arrived in time to say goodbye.
And [Airline]’s response to all this? They answered my mother’s scathing letter with a $100 ticket voucher.
Bold of them to assume my parents would ever want to fly with them again, don’t you think?