Don’t resort to buying your dream on eBay

Since leaving the airline industry…oh wait, I never left the industry. In fact, part of me is still in that damn interview room, staring at Virgin’s rejection door, pining for the one that got away.

Oh, but I succeeded with Emirates, right?

Yes, that is true, but I Lost My Airline Soulmate.

Virgin is the airline that makes my skin tingle, in a very good Aerosmith kinda way.

I lost Virgin because I listened to the wrong people. I ignored the encouragement from actual Virgin crew, and instead believed the Old Wives that told me I didn’t have the flair, that I wasn’t “Virgin material.”

Over the last 20 years, I’ve watched Virgin evolve even more into its bold, beautiful self. And I’ve come to see all the ways I did align — all the way down to the seven inch heels I wore to my first interview, if only I’d known how to make fun of them at the time.

But, I did get my Virgin Viv uniform and a pretty little clipped wing in the end — by piecing it together from eBay. And whilst I was there, I met others doing the same, holding onto what little they had left of their dream.

One young woman, only 22 years old, spoke about regrets for not pursuing Lufthansa. At 22 years old, she had regrets!

When I asked why she’d held back, it turned out her mother and her aunt — a Purser at a top airline — had warned her off. Said the competition was too fierce, the odds too slim.

And that’s how it happens. That quiet detour away from your dream. The caution can come from anywhere — even the people who love you, even those who’ve worn the wings themselves.

(come on Purser auntie, pull some of those strings.)

Please, don’t let anyone slam a nail into your dream box or direct you to the wrong airline terminal. An airline is not just an airline, it’s your future family. It has to align.

I failed nineteen interviews, because I morphed into what they told me Virgin wanted, and lost my entire sense of self in the process. By the end, I couldn’t even look at the mirror because I hated my face. That’s called body dysmorphic disorder, by the way.

Don’t let this process do that to you.

Don’t go sandpapering your skin because people are telling you that freckle are flaws. Don’t go filing your teeth because someone said they are too crooked.

My heart breaks every time I see a photo of an arm that zooms in on an imaginary flaw, or a close up of a teeny tiny scar.

Things are blown completely out of proportion in this industry.

I didn’t know how to ask questions. I had no internet or books to validate truth. But you have everything today, and that’s part of the problem as much as it is the solution.

Ask questions. Cross-check everything. Use your judgement. And don’t you dare let someone sandpaper your personality just to fit their version of what belongs.

There’s a whole movement now about the scar declarations. But nobody seems to ask why a declaration is required — other than assuming the obvious, because of course it’s about superficial beauty. But, could it be because airlines are hell-bent on safety and security? Huh, good question. Anyone reading this want to crosscheck the answer? or prove me wrong? Because you should absolutely crosscheck me too.

Your dream is delicate, and so is your mind. Handle it like the finest pair of lace panties — yours, precious, not to be sullied by someone else’s soiled advice.

Advice gets passed around like in-flight peanuts. And your dream will get passed around with it, if you don’t protect it.

Okay, closing out on panties and Aerosmith seems like the right thing to do.

In the immortalised screams of the masterful Steven Tyler:

Dream on, dream on, dream on
Dream until your dreams come true