A New Desire

"Are you an airline stewardess when you are not at the bank?"

The question was always the same from clients that came into my office. I always responded the same, "No, why do you ask?" Their answer was always the same, too. "Well, you look like one, and you always wear an airplane pin on the lapel of your suit." I would always explain, "My son is studying at an aeronautical university to become a pilot, so I wear the airplane to honor and support his ambition." But I had to admit, it always left me thinking, "What does an airline stewardess look like anyway?" And besides, me –at my age–an airline stewardess? No way! Impossible! However, the more frequently the question was asked, the more my mind was inclined to entertain the thought. I was enjoying my banking career in my own private office and making a decent salary to boot. I enjoyed my duties and my conversations with my clients daily. Why in the world would I leave this cozy, mind-stimulating career and begin all over again in some area I knew nothing about?

Day after day, there was a stirring within my heart ... a new desire and it became more and more frequent. Suddenly, a light bulb came on in my head (kind of like in the movie Legally Blonde). I found myself wondering if I should check it out – the reality of being an airline stewardess. Me? No. Change jobs at my age? I had to be out of my mind, but the thoughts became more and more persistent. Hmm, my son was going to be a pilot; my daughter was about to finish high school and would be leaving for college. Why shouldn't I at least check it out?

The thought kept creeping around in my mind, "My son is going to be working every day at 35,000 feet altitude! Can I trust that? Will my son be safe in his chosen profession? Would I dare?"

Night after night, I found myself on the computer checking out all the different airlines. Where would I begin? Was there any possibility that an airline would hire me at my age? I applied to all major airlines, and much to my surprise, my age was no problem at all; I learned that employers found people in my age group to be more responsible and dependable employees than those in the younger age group. My age was definitely a plus and I discovered that many others were changing careers at a later age. I was more excited than ever. I was going to join the group!

After sending in my applications, I was shocked that all the airlines accepted me for an interview. I interviewed with most all of the major airlines. Upon being invited to a personal interview, I learned that the airline was going to request that I leave home for 4 to 6 weeks training in their "Hub" location, so I excitedly put in my two-week notice at the bank, and I was off to begin my new second career.

"Boot Camp"

At my first commercial airline interview, it was clear that the training would not be a walk in the park. My very extensive training began. You see, becoming an airline stewardess, (which is now referred to as a flight attendant), is not easy to come by. Trainees must make an "A" on every exam for the four-to six-weeks period. Everyone in our group referred to the training as "Barbie boot camp" while we were at the training center.

The trainers gave us a mountain of detailed information, on which we were tested each week while in training. In truth and to my embarrassment, after just three weeks (which was at least half-way through) with the first airline, I made an 88 on an exam, and at that point, I learned another lesson about "boot camp." There were no other chances. Without delay, the supervisor hauled me into her office, to give me not only the bad news, but also to hand me an airline ticket to return home – with no job. How humiliating! I had left my banking career, and now I had no job! This was not as easy as one would think. I also came to realize it had been many years since I had studied for an actual exam. Consoling myself, I told myself I was out of practice.

Within just a couple of weeks, I accepted an invitation to another airline. Once again, I had to leave home for weeks for the crucial training. I thought to myself, "At least this time, I have an idea of what to expect and I will be just fine."

I was mistaken! Once again, within just three weeks, half way through, I made a score of 89. An almost identical scene took place the second time around. Again, I was embarrassed and humiliated. I was directed into that private office and received the same bad news and that free airline ticket to go home!

I cannot fully express my exasperation by this point. I knew the material, but even in school, and all the way through high school and college, I did not test well ... you might say I would "freeze up" during exams ... exams scared me out of my wits.

I was learning that my dream of becoming a flight attendant was going to take lots of strength and guts. Believe me, it was not just about serving coke and peanuts like most people might think. It's not that at all; it's not all about that pleasant personality either, (although it is certainly a plus). I had heard that statement a million times, and I thought since I had won "Miss Congeniality" in my senior year of high school, it would help – but it did not help me at all!

It's all about the safety of each and every passenger on that plane while it is 30,000+ feet in altitude; it is about knowing how to handle events of medical emergencies, plane turbulence, emergency landings, and an endless list of other potential incidents ... so when I say anything BUT peanuts and coke, I mean it literally!

So once again, I returned home, without my wings. I began to pray, Lord, have I made a huge mistake in leaving my job? Do you want me to be a Flight Attendant? Why did you lay this on my heart? You know me well enough to know, when YOU speak to me (at least I thought it was You) ... I will not give up. My son is going to be a pilot and I am going to be a flight attendant! God knew that was the driving force behind my efforts. I was very determined; I wanted to see for myself that my son would be safe at that 30,000-foot altitude every day. So why can't I pull off these 90s on all of my exams? I determined in my heart that day, that with God's help, I was going to make it.

Try and Try Again

After a couple of weeks went by, I contacted a third airline. When I introduced myself,surprisingly,theladywhoansweredthephonerepliedexcitedly,"Where have you been? (This phone call will forever be etched in my mind.) We've been waiting for you to come to training!" Now, those words stumped me ... they remember me? It's a very large world. How could they possibly remember everyone they interview? Nonetheless, she had my complete attention and I was totally upfront and honest with her. I very humbly admitted to her the humiliation I had been through at the other airlines.

I will always remember her kind response. She immediately booked me for the next training. (Oh my, that Barbie boot camp again!) I would be in their training for six weeks. I graciously accepted her invitation. I've always heard the third time is a charm, and I was going to put it to the test.

I had never been anywhere that far from home. I guess I didn't mention that there was another reason I desired to be a Flight Attendant; it was to see the United States and the rest of the world! This country girl had never been far from North Carolina. Once a year, daddy would take mama, my three brothers and myself to White Lake or Blowing Rock, but only for one day because of all the farm animals and their upkeep. That was our vacation.

Bookworm

Upon arrival at training all trainees were sent to the hotel, where we would call home for the next six weeks – away from family and home for most of us. Although it was difficult to be away from my family for such a long period, I was thrilled just to be there. Talk about enthusiasm? I had it; I felt like God was giving me one more shot at my newly desired career.

We arrived at the training center, where there were many trainers and many classes to attend. This time, I decided I was going to get my wings; I was not leaving without those wings I so badly wanted, come hell or high water.

I found myself living with my instruction manual. It was overwhelming – so much to learn, so fast, so quickly. I also enjoyed meeting other students from all over the globe. Wow! I kept thinking, I am really here. But I discovered very quickly that I was not going to make the third time around without working even harder than before. Most of the students referred to me as the "bookworm," because every time they saw me, I was camped out in the hall studying our material. I had to get my long awaited wings this trip – I just had to! So I decided my study guide was going everywhere I went.

While other students went out to eat in fancy restaurants in the evenings, shopping at the huge local mall, or enjoying a social drink, I was the "book worm" in the hall or in my hotel room with my head in the manual. I "courted" that book; I slept with that book; it was always with me. I was going to make all of the necessary "As" in order to go home with my wings and then begin my new career.

And I was doing it! I was actually making 100s on these exams (about time, right?). If I didn't pull off the 100, it was at least 98; things were looking up. I was going to make it this time. I was beginning to get the idea, God was in this after all and to this day, I am fully convinced He placed me with the company He knew would be a perfect fit for me –I just felt it.

The trainers were excellent, and they were encouraging all along the way. They were team players – and I wanted to be on their team and I desperately wanted them on my team.

One of my classes was the CPR training. I had never had any medical training, but in this valuable class, I learned some very practical medical and life-saving techniques. I thought to myself, "Wow ... this is actually pretty cool," as we learned how to check for breathing; how to check the pulse for heartbeat; how to pump on the chest; and how to blow into someone's mouth to give them air. It was an interesting day.

At the end of the day came an announcement that there was a party at the headquarters, and it was mandatory that every class member participate. My first thought was, "Oh no, I won't get to study this stuff like I usually do," but they meant mandatory – so they had a bus/shuttle pick up everyone and take us to the headquarters.

Wow was I impressed. I went to the party, had a diet coke, and then proceeded to dance with some other trainees, just relax a bit, and have a good time.

Suddenly, while dancing, I realized I had turned one of my feet the wrong way – it caused such pain that I had to stop dancing, and continued to hurt so much that I could hardly walk, but I kept thinking to myself, "It will go away soon; it will be ok. I am in training; it just has to go away."

As the party ended and everyone was leaving, I headed to my shuttle, still limping like a hurt puppy. I kept assuring myself it would soon pass. The shuttle took us back to our hotels for the evening. The weekend was ahead of us and lucky for me there were no classes for the next day.

"I'm Alive"

That evening, right in the middle of my studying, for some strange reason I was craving ice cream - I just had to have a nutty buddy ... remember those? I still can't explain why that idea just popped into my head, but I knew I had to get one, and continue my studying.

By this time, my foot was very swollen and had begun turning black and blue; however, the thought of that nutty buddy trumped the hurt, and I slowly limped down the long hall from my room to the gift shop to get that much-wanted treat.

As I was checking out to pay for it, the cashier noticed my foot, which was really looking awful by that time. "Honey, don't you know you are walking around on a broken foot?"

I immediately responded, "No ma'am, I just sprained it today ... it turned the wrong way."

She responded, "I know what I am looking at, and you most definitely have a broken foot!"

"No – I am at training to become a flight attendant, and I cannot have a broken foot! It's just a bad sprain," I insisted.

"Well, I've had a broken foot before, and I am telling you one more time, you need to see a doctor and get an x-ray. I know what a broken foot looks like."

I tried to be courteous, but my patience was wearing thin by that time, and I was becoming annoyed. "Thank you very much, but my foot ain't broken! See? I am walking on it ... besides, like I said, I am at training to become a flight attendant, and I simply cannot have a broken foot!"

I thanked her for the nutty buddy and then limped out of the gift store – to enjoy my treat.

I hopped up the long hall with my nutty buddy in hand. All of a sudden, my foot began throbbing; the pain really kicked in and then something totally unforeseen happened: I fainted! Right there, I passed out from the pain. Of course, I didn't realize I had passed out ... until ... I heard voices ... they were discussing someone. That someone was me. I heard everything they said but I could not respond.

"Is she breathing? Do you get a heartbeat? We need to pump on her chest and blow into her mouth!

Those are the words I heard ... then I remember thinking to myself, "Man, you betternotpump on my chest! And you betternotblow in my mouth! I am not dead!" Finally, I was able to open my eyes. Standing over me was a crowd of faces. They were the students from my class that day, both guys and girls. They were leaning over me whispering, "She passed out! Do something!"

I believe that is when I was finally able to speak – because my only words were, "Hey, I am okay – you better not pump on my chest or blow in my mouth. I am alive."

They sat me up, checked my vitals ... then the questions: "What happened? Are you alright? Why did you pass out? You need to go to the ER."

I argued with what little strength I had. "No, I am not going to the ER – don't you get it? I am in training; I ain't leaving this hotel – I am alright. I cannot go to the ER, the trainers might send me home – and I am here to get my wings."

Then two really nice guys from my class picked me up off the floor, and literally carried me to my room. To this day, I do not have any idea what happened to that nutty buddy I just had to have. All I remember is waking up to many faces bending over me. These guys were super nice; they got me back to my room. I limped in and stayed there the remainder of the night, while studying my book and watching my foot swell in size and turn multiple shades of black and blue.

The next day, thank the Lord, we did not have class, but everyone who witnessed my passing out came by my room to check on me. They even noticed my foot was worse – much worse. Some of the students actually lived there, and one of them offered to drive me to the nearest ER to get an x-ray. At first, I refused. But about half way through the day, the pain became so intense, that I accepted the invitation to drive me to the ER.

In my narrow mind, I was thinking, "I am so far away from home. I am in training to become a flight attendant. All I want to do is to Get My Wings and graduate as a flight attendant (this time)!" That was all I wanted to do, for heaven's sake. However, those nice friends insisted they drive me to the ER. The doctor took one look and immediately ordered an x-ray.

"Well, it looks like you have a broken foot, but we will be sure with the x-ray." I did not want to hear those words. The x-ray proved the doctor was correct (as well as that cashier I had argued with). My foot was indeed broken. They placed my foot and my leg in a cast all the way up to my knee and put me on crutches.

Can you believe this? This time I was finally making all A's – half-way through training and all I lacked was three more weeks, and there I was on crutches? Unbelievable!

"I'm Not Going Home"

The following morning, the hotel phone beside my bed rang. I answered it out of curiosity. Who in the world would be calling my hotel room? I kept in touch with my children and mother while away from home on my cell phone. I answered to find myself speaking to one of the supervisors.

"Are you alright?" she asked.

"Yes ma'am."

"Did you have to go the hospital yesterday?"

"Yes ma'am," (wondering how she knew).

She wanted to know if I was indeed ok and what had happened. That is when I began to cry softly while responding to her questions.