jackassworld

In the past, I probably would have waited for the response before posting the letter (like in the “Dear Del Taco” incidence). But since this is the internet, so you are welcome to await Southwest’s response along with us and we’ll post it the second we get it. Here, then, is my complaint letter to Southwest Airlines.

August 13, 2008
From: Dave Carnie
XXXXXXXXXX
XXXXXXXX, CA XXXXX

To: Southwest Airlines
P.O. Box 36647 - 1CR
Dallas, Texas 75235-1647

Re: Boarding

Dear Southwest,

I fly with your airline frequently and I’m a big fan, so it’s with regret that the subject of my first letter to you is a complaint. I almost considered writing a letter of praise before sending this one just so our correspondence could start off on the right foot, but, alas, life is short and I can’t be spending my days writing complaint letters. Just know that I have had a very enjoyable experience with your airline until my last trip.

My wife and I were flying from Burbank, Ca to Oakland, Ca on Saturday July 26. Our boarding passes said we were in the A Group. Mine said “A16” and hers said “A48.” In hindsight, this was odd because I bought our tickets at the same time and we printed the boarding passes out at the same time. When it was our turn to board I handed the lady my boarding pass.

“Oh you have to wait,” she said. It was apparent that she was a real stickler for rules. She wanted to make sure that there wasn’t anybody with anything lower than 16 that I was cutting in front of. There wasn’t. “Okay you can go,” she said. Gee thanks.

But when my wife handed her “A48,” she said, “Oh you have to go back and wait.”

“That’s my wife,” I said.

“Well you can save her a seat,” she said smartly.

“What?” I said. That was the most ridiculous thing I had ever heard, but unfortunately it was early in the morning and my brain wasn’t capable of processing the complete ridiculousness of it or forming an argument. So my wife got back in line and I grudgingly boarded the plane where I saved her a seat.

As I sat there, the idiocy of the situation began to irk me. My anus clinched up tight. That’s what happens when I get angry. So I decided to calm my temper (I’m Scottish) by playing a game of Sudoku in the back of your in-flight magazine (which is always a delight—great writing!) Due to the hour, I chose the “Warm Up” puzzle, which I thought would be easier than the “Easy” puzzle. Boy was I wrong. That thing was hard! I think you need to have a chat with your Puzzle Master and his degree-of-difficulty ratings.

My puzzle problems were compounded by all the people who would come down the aisle and ask if they could sit next to me. “No,” I kept having to say through my teeth, “I’m saving it for my wife.” Did it really matter when she got on the plane? She was going to be sitting in that seat whether she boarded with me, or ten minutes after me. It defies reason. Grrr! I sought solace in numbers.

And here’s another reason why it was stupid: it delayed the boarding process. Because we tend to sit in the back of the plane—probably because a greater number of open seats and the chances of privacy are better—my wife boarded at the back. But since I was one of the first on board, I decided to give the front of the cabin a chance. I was in row three. So my wife had to swim upstream of all the boarding passengers to get to her seat which caused all kinds of problems. Literally swimming upstream. I hate it when people use the word “literally” wrong, but here I’m using it correctly: she was doing the backstroke up the aisle. She’s not a very good swimmer, but she’s great at doing handstands in the shallow end of a pool. I lost sight of her a couple times in the horde of boarding passengers. Maybe she was doing handstands?

In the gate lady’s attempt to do everything proper and in order, she ended up making the boarding of the plane more inefficient. Plus she was condescending and a little terse. I didn’t get her name, but she had a brown bird’s nest of hair and she was very mannish looking. I would have told her so then, but she looked like she could really kick some ass. She could use some makeup and a haircut. I’d hate to be the employee that has to make that suggestion to her.

I was going to write this letter just because of that incident, but then it happened again on our return flight from Oakland. This time our boarding passes were in numeric order. However, we crossed over boarding groups. I was “A60,” the last number in the A group, and Tania was “B1.” Sure enough, when we got to the gate, Tashia (I got her name), told Tania she’d have to wait. (I hope you don’t get the names mixed up: Tania=my wife, Tashia=your rude employee.)

“That’s my wife,” I said again. It was afternoon, and I was kind of expecting this, so I got into it this time with Tashia. “What if that was my child, would you make my child wait, too?”

“Sir,” Tashia said, “I’m just doing my job.” It was obvious she had a bad attitude. Perhaps she had had a bad day? I’ve watched your show Airline—love it—and I can empathize with airline employees and the amount of complaints and rudeness they have to endure on the job. I try to be a good traveler and I expect that traveling is, for the most part, an uncomfortable experience. You just deal with it. It’s rare that I ever make a fuss about anything, but this policy of yours—I’m assuming it’s policy?—is simply retarded. (By the way, one of my favorite things to see on Airline is when a customer says, “You’re going to hear from my lawyer!” If someone has the money to have their very own lawyer, I don’t imagine them flying on SWA—no offense to the quality of your airline, but as you know, most of your customers choose your airline because of the budget fares. It’s certainly not for the inflight meal, haha. By the way, I would like to sneak a compliment in here in the middle of this complaint: thank you for getting rid of those honey-roasted peanuts and returning to normal peanuts. The honey roasted ones were not only gross, but they gave me diarrhea. Chunky diarrhea.)

“Her number is right after mine,” I said, “she’s next. What difference does it make?”

The “I’m just doing my job” part was annoying enough, but then she said, “If you don’t like it, you can leave.” WHAT? First of all, that’s exactly what we were trying to do, leave. Secondly, that is just an uncalled for remark to a customer. I was furious, but fortunately my wife has a cooler head than I do and calmed me down.

Tania stood behind the pole, while I waited at the entrance to the tunnel. All was quiet. And then Tashia flipped the sign so that it read “B.” “B passengers one through 30 may now board.” Tania was allowed to join me.

“Wow,” I said sarcastically, “yeah, that made total sense.” Make my wife stand behind a pole for ten seconds until you change it from A to B.

I realize that Tashia was indeed “just doing her job,” so that’s why I’m writing. Constructive criticism. I think you need to change your rules so that passengers that are traveling together, are allowed to board together. Especially family members. I’m not sure what’s accomplished when you separate passengers and force the first one aboard to start saving seats. And this never would have happened if our boarding passes, which printed out at the same time, weren’t 32 places apart. Glitch in the system?

And while I agree, the old system of A, B, and C lines did have its problems, the new fix with the poles and the signs and the numbers and everything borders on the ridiculous. It’s overkill, it’s confusing, and it’s childish and thus demeaning. If you’re going to start assigning numbers to passengers, why not just assign seats?

OR, maybe adopt a kind of Garanimal approach to the boarding process! That would be fun, wouldn’t it? Like instead of ABC, you assign people Donkeys, Monkeys and Elephants—SWA can pick whatever animals they want, but in my mind, those are extremely fun animals. Especially the monkeys. [I’ve provided some examples in the envelope.] Anyway, then you give each animal different expressions. So some travelers get happy monkeys, some get angry monkeys, some get forlorn monkeys, some get stoic monkeys, some get monkeys that are throwing their poo (which, come to think of it, some travelers might confuse the poo throwing monkeys with angry monkeys? Not true, monkeys throw their poo out of joy…oh, but then they really would be confused with happy monkeys, huh? Well there will surely be lots of bugs to work out if you adopt this new system.) So then everyone is sitting down in the waiting area and the gate lady would spin the pole so that the picture of the monkey was up at the top. Then she could say, “Okay we’d like to start the boarding process with the monkeys!” And all the monkeys would go, “YAY!” or “Oo! Oo! Oo!” And line up. But not all the monkeys get to go at once. “We’ll begin with the happy monkeys. If you are a happy monkey, it’s your turn to board.” And all the happy monkeys would board. I don’t imagine there would be any cutting or animosity because, well, they’re happy monkeys. (If a happy monkey cuts in front of another happy monkey and the latter gets mad, then I think that monkey should be downgraded from the happy monkey boarding group to the angry monkey boarding group, what do you think?) And then, “Okay, if you’re a monkey that likes to throw your poo, come on down!” I’m sure your employees would find much funnier ways to deliver the information—bunch of comedians, I tell ye! So then after all the monkeys are on board, she spins the sign so that it shows a donkey face. “Any donkeys in the audience? Hee-aw! Hee-aw! Hee-aw! HE ALMOST said it’s your turn to board! I’m just kidding donkeys, take a seat. Where are the elephants, it’s your turn to board!” I think that would be a funny trick to play on the donkeys. But then again, like I said, you guys are the comedians. So then all the elephants—the sad elephants, the berserker elephants, the fearful elephants, etc.—get to board. (Hope there isn’t a stampede!) And of course donkeys always go last and take up the rear…because they’re asses! HAHAHA! Heck, maybe I should come work for you funny guys? So all the donkeys—the jealous donkeys, the resentful donkeys, the fat donkeys, etc.—all board. Then, when all the animals are on board, your in-flight service people in the khaki shorts (so cute!) are in the perfect position to make some joke referencing Noah’s Ark. And everybody’s happy because they’re not a cold number like “A48,” no, they’re a happy little monkey! I say you give it a shot. Can’t be any worse than it already is. Let me know if you need any help.

In conclusion, I think you should adjust your policy regarding the numbers and/or look into why those boarding passes are printing out so far apart. Also make sure to check in with your Puzzle Master; he’s on crack if he thinks that one was easier than “Easy.” And that gate lady in Burbank should get a haircut and try wearing some makeup.

Sincerely,
Dave Carnie