Don’t behave like a passenger.
Argh, cabin crew interview group discussions.
That destabilising moment when twenty or so applicants erupt into competitive small talk, off-topic tangents, and one-upping for airtime. And, somehow, you need to break in without interrupting, then say something smart without dominating.
As an introvert with a meek voice, best I had was raising my hand and saying, “Um, excuse me, hello”, then retreating into my nail-biting.
Really, is it any wonder I failed nineteen interviews!
That’s not behaving like cabin crew. That’s a passenger trying to sidle past a sleeping row mate without brushing their elbow.
Man, I was one finger prod away from pressing the call bell and having the recruiters step into their senior roles and do the shoulder prodding on my behalf.
But then I thought: what if these weren’t candidates? What if they were rogue passengers on my flight, getting territorial over armrests?
And what if I was the calm, commanding cabin crew, here to restore order?
Well, in my dream world, I’d transform into Midge Maisel, rise from my seat, deliver some witty repartee, and hand out roles so there was some resemblance of teamwork.
Alas, this was 2005, and Midge wouldn’t exist for another twelve years. Plus, I wasn’t marvellous Midge. I was timid me.
But, I did abandon the Emirates open day before I could further humiliate myself, and then I reverse-engineered the recruitment process.
When I returned to Emirates two years later, I had a plan.
Take charge like crew.
Round 1: Group discussion.
Topic: “What do you think of the ban on public smoking?”
Okay, good topic — something I could sink my slightly-yellowed, nicotine-tinged teeth into.
My father had quit his 40-a-day habit at 65. I’d given up too. For Emirates. For this career. This was my moment to prove I could give up toxic habits and demonstrate my devotion to the role.
I just needed… the floor.
Only, the floor had been sieged and quickly devolved into something that resembled gate lice scrambling for priority boarding.
Twenty or so applicants locked horns over… Dot Cotton’s smoking in Eastenders? Huh, an argument about a television soap opera?
Meanwhile, I sat clutching my no-smoking anecdote. Practised my delivery. Nailed the pause.
Only this time, the pause wasn’t nervous — it was tactical. I waited. Watched. Listened. For a breath. A swallow. A sliver of space I could stealthily slip into.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the recruiters synchronising their watches. And I knew — time was about to be called.
THEN! The current speaker’s eyes drifted — up and to the left. Textbook visual memory cue!
That was my opening. I took it.
“Well, I agree with the ban, because it helped both me and my father quit smoking, and…”
And… he cut me off.
He cut me off! No.
The moment? Gone.
The recruiters called time.
Next up, the first elimination round.
As number after number was called, I bit through my freshly grown and paper thin nails as I awaited my fate.
My entire opportunity now rested on the one question I’d asked in the Q&A — and this half-second of interrupted contribution where all I’d manage to really say was that I smoked.
Seventy of the hundred applicants were cut.
But not me. My number came tucked on the end of her list. The last to be called. I scraped through.
For the first time in twenty interviews, I made it to the second round.
Then I made it through the next group discussion.
And the next nine rounds of personality tests, one on ones, and more group discussions.
All the way to getting hired by Emirates.
It’s not topical. It’s behavioural.
One of the most overlooked truths about group discussions is this: it’s not about the topic — it’s about behaviour.
Recruiters couldn’t care less about your views on public smoking — unless you’re talking about smoking in uniform, then maybe they will raise a perfectly arched brow. Other than that, eye roll.
What they’re really watching is how you handle the room. Because they’re not looking for strong opinions. They’re looking for strong crew who know how to lead a cabin. People jostling for attention, that’s the shit they deal with every work shift.
When applicants compete for airtime or talk over one another, they’re not demonstrating leadership — they’re modelling passenger behaviour. And this is a group discussion, not a debate, not a conflict.
Group means team.
At Crew Crosscheck, we show you how to navigate group dynamics with calm, steady presence — so you stand out for the right reasons.
Not louder. Just smarter.
