Names are my favourite accessories. Just Call me…Caitlyn…Carrie…um, Clarke?
I’m Carrie-Ellise Poirier — though depending on the era, the outfit, or the identity crisis, you might know me as Caitlyn Rogers (pen name), Layla (stage name), Jasmine Pfeiffer (Hollywood misadventure), or Ellette Morgan (ugh, don’t ask).
Names are my favourite accessories.
In all, I’ve tried on, worn, and immortalised at least 12 names. Some of which I now have to explain at every future customs inquisition — because, yes, some have their own passports.
There was a Clarke in there somewhere, but only by pure accident and thankfully it never made it onto my credentials. (does this website count as a credential? Must research.)
It’s safe to say, I’ve had a complicated relationship with identity, which explains why I’ve racked up almost as many names as I’ve had flight attendant interview rejections.
12 names + 19 cabin crew interview rejections = no coincidence.
More like, a catalyst.
Sarah-Jane
1993-1994
It all started in high school, right after a personality test insisted I was an introvert and, therefore, entirely unfit for the flight attendant profession. There’s the catalyst.
Oh wait, maybe the catalyst was the sexist flight attendant Cheryl poster that inspired me right before the test. Hard to say. Both had a profound impact.
In any case, I really wanted to become a flight attendant, so, I, an unsupervised teenager with a blossoming identity crisis, during my first week on the Youth Award Scheme (YAS) for wayward teens, turned my personality into a high school social experiment.
Could I, a loner, with homecut hair, mismatching shoes, and seriously bitten fingers, rebrand myself as the confident, mysterious new girl? I decided to use my first week on the YAS to find out.
- Step one: adopt a new name — Sarah-Jane.
- Step two: colour my lips and eyelashes with felt tip pens.
- Step three: borrow a push-up bra and a pair of stilettos from the head-mistress’ cupboard of curious confiscations.
- Step four: fool the cool kids into believing I am the new girl.
Voilà — it worked. For one glorious year, I lived life as Sarah-Jane, the lowest-ranking member of the popular crowd.
I reverse-engineered popularity…until Stacy exposed me under the bridge.
In a way, that humiliating high school take-down was my first unofficial cabin crew rejection. It’ll all make sense the more you get to know me.
My temporary success encouraged further exploration.
If I were to become cabin crew, I needed longevity in my identity overhaul. I needed more than a name. I needed to actually become someone else.
Layla
1996-1999
First I enrolled in performing arts college. There I would rebrand myself into a permanent extravert. For my audition, I chose a strategic monologue, something to do with death, which repurposed anxiety into an Oscar-winning performance. Genius.
Then I auditioned for modelling college — a pre flight attendant charm farm if you will. There I stood, nipple height, in a room of high fashion models, where I failed my first functional height and reach test.
But, another reinvention opportunity soon shimmied my way. Or rather, came hurtling my way when Gordo threw a pink Trade-It newspaper at me, with a job ad circled in red: “Wanted, belly dancer for Greek entertainment evenings”.
That was his way of poking fun at my belly.
All this came followed up with a very vocal: “You want to be a flight attendant? Have you ever looked in a mirror? You know you have to be tall and pretty, right?“
And since I’m competitive, hate being underestimated, and saw another opportunity for reinvention, I said “you’re on” and transformed his taunt into a dare.
Somehow… the audition went well, and I got the gig, despite my inability to perform any of the movements and a pair of my father’s rogue underpants taunting me centre stage — Yep, nothing about my life is normal.
Luckily, Bambas mentored me(future contestant on Britain’s Got Talent who got four yes’s).
Here’s Bambas impressing Simon Cowell…Opa!
My first night dancing at a Greek wedding reception, amid slicking my feet through Saganaki, I discovered I’d landed my second — or maybe it was my third — name change, when Bambas announced:
“Don’t forget to tip Layla. She needs to buy her Barbie dolls.“
Barbie dolls? Oh please, I was 15. But Layla, now we’re talking exotic.
Only, it didn’t fit me at all.
One night, a little Greek girl looked me up and down before a gig and said, “But you’re not Greek.” – Yeah, it was high school all over again, only this time, I got busted by a seven year old.
Still, I continued with that pseudonym for three whole years, but Layla only came out under the cover of night and a veil. By day, at performing arts college, I was introverted Carrie-Ann.
So, after graduating with nothing to show for my identity overhaul other than a useless diploma, I jetted out to Hollywood. The City of Dreams. Where ordinary girls become starlets, and Carrie-Ann’s become… ah yes, Jasmine Pfeiffer.
Jasmine Pfeiffer
1999
Yes, Pfeiffer, as in Michelle. No relation, just an implication. Stop laughing.
Unlike Michelle, Jasmine was a complete flop. She couldn’t even pretend play a keyboard in a band, so I ditched her after failing my second Virgin Atlantic cabin crew interview.
And I rebounded back to Carrie, where I stayed, carouselling between airline failures until 2003.
Caitlyn Rogers
2003-2025
That’s when Caitlyn Rogers made her debut.
Two years of reverse-engineering the airline recruitment process, one mock interview with Emirates, and Caitlyn was an overnight success. She got the Golden Call, from Emirates.
But Emirates wanted my real full name, so she didn’t become credential official until 2005 when I auctioned my flight attendant interview research on eBay. And of course, she had another overnight success with that.
Since then, Caitlyn Rogers has taken on a bit of a bad-ass reputation for herself, becoming my best-selling alter ego through six editions of The Cabin Crew Interview Made Easy.
And she’s stuck around for twenty years.
Which is just typical. Even my alter-ego had a better career than I ever had as Carrie-Ann. Which is why I have retained Caitlyn on the payroll.
Carrie-Ann Ellison
1980-1993
So, wait, I’m confused, who the hell are you?
My factory setting — and the name stamped on my Emirates certificate — is Carrie-Ann Ellison, but I haven’t used that in forever.
Today, and for at least the next year, I go by Carrie-Ellise Poirier. Though, I already have a tentative eye on changing it to Circe, April, et al et al et al.
If this is all sounding a little crowded — don’t worry. When it comes to cabin crew interviews, just call me Caitlyn. She’s the overnight success, after all.
And if you think my name is one crazy story, you should hear about my unconventional cabin crew journey to Emirates success. It’s a wild one — full of sharp turns, real missteps, and strange little wins.
Inside Crew Crosscheck, I’ll show you a side of cabin crew recruitment no one puts in the prep guides. I’ve poked and prodded the soft bits to find out where the system bends and where it breaks.
Once you’ve seen it my way, you can’t unsee it. And that’s the point. You learn best by stepping inside it.
P.S. In week three of the course, I’ll show you how you can turn any backstory into an interesting and unique self-presentation, no matter how whacky or seemingly dull.
P.P.S. Thinking of changing your first name? It’s a bit like wearing someone else’s used knickers. Just saying.
Catch you in another post…
xo Caitlyn
xo Carrie
xo Jasmine
xo Layla
xo Ellette
xo Sarah-Jane
xo Clarke
xo April
et al
