Thank you for infuriating me. Lately I have been pretty happy about the state of the world. (Well, not the state of the entire world. Just the state of my own world, excluding the reading assignments and interview issues that I choose to ignore.) Anyway, my happiness had sapped me of the sarcasm required to write interesting blog posts. But you, Frontier Airlines, have solved this problem, for which my two remaining readers will I am sure be very grateful.
Today I visited your counter at the airport to redeem a travel voucher. I had the necessary flight information, and I just needed one of your helpful employees to take the voucher and book the flight. Simple, really. So I sauntered up to your counter at about 1:30 p.m. and found your employee roping off the line. I asked him where I could redeem my voucher. He told me to wait until 2 p.m. I said, "Seriously?!" He said yes. I said, "You cannot just help me?" Or something along those lines. Let me note my tone of voice: incredulous. Not mean. I did not insult him, or even yell. I just asked my questions. He would not budge however, and walked away. So then I got annoyed. So I called Frontier Airlines to complain about the man and to try to make the reservation on the phone. The very helpful girl with the same name as my sister nearly restored my faith in Frontier. She made all the arrangements, so the man only had to take my voucher and give me a ticket. Simple. I wish.
I went back to the line at 1:50. A few other people had arrived. The Frontier man had come back to his post, too, but refused to help anyone until 2 p.m. Now, I should note that Frontier has TWO lines here. One for regular passengers. One for special passengers. (In Frontier lingo, "Summit" members.) I did not fit either category. I wanted to become a passenger, yes, but had not yet fulfilled that goal. So I chose the shortest line. After helping the man in front of me, the Frontier man asked me if I was a Summit member. I said no, I just needed my ticket. He said to go to the other line. So I explained to the first man in the other line that I had been there for 30 minutes, and could I just go in front. He said yes. Well, conveniently, there were NO ACTUAL SUMMIT MEMBERS in line. So I was once again next in line. (Yes, just like "Meet the Parents.") I went back to the Frontier man. He proceeded to tell me that he would not help me because I had argued with him before. EXCUSE ME?! Just what did he expect me to do when he told me to wait for 30 minutes?! Curtsy and thank him for giving me an opportunity to quietly collect my thoughts about the state of the world?! So I just said "Sorry, sir, could you please just get my ticket?" He finally agreed, and I proceeded to answer his questions with one-word answers, occasionally adding a haughty "sir" for good measure. I did not tell him that yes, I planned to send a letter to Frontier to note his role in the failure of our airline system, and that yes, I really did stare at his name badge while he booked my ticket and I wrote down all 15 letters of his unpronounceable last name, and that yes, I noticed that his lanyard had only two pins while his coworker had nearly 20, so clearly I am not the first to find his service despicable.
And Frontier, while I am complaining, I would be remiss to leave out my annoyance at your really cheesy theme. No one cares about the name of the wild animal on the tail of the plane ...
Sincerely,
C.
Clearly I am desperate. I neglect my blog for two weeks and can only find this photo to post?! Well, I actually wanted to save this for Election Day. But because I am becoming a bit less enthused about the possible results of that day it makes an appearance now. And because I have nothing good to post. So we get this. (For the record, I still think McCain will win. Mostly because I am stubborn and have already predicted this and do not want to doubt my predictive powers.)
