Words: 1169 words Read Time: 6 minutes Last Modified: 2025-07-05
Have you heard? “It’s all luck.”
I believed it too, long ago.
Because if it’s not luck, then what is it? I know I did everything right — so what the hell went wrong?
Oh — I remember now. It was the skirt.
That was my grand theory after my second interview with Virgin Atlantic. I told everyone back home that I didn’t get through because of that skirt.
It sounds ridiculous, doesn’t it? A skirt.
Or, maybe it doesn’t, not in this industry. In any other world, people would crinkle a brow, and ask if you’re feeling okay. But in aviation? A scar on your knee means failure. A mole on your arm is a scandal. Scroll through social media — every other post is a skin selfie. And everyone’s asking, “Is this recruitable?”
This is what we do when we don’t understand what’s happened. We reach for the nearest, most visible explanation, or the thing we were already worried about. Because, damn it, I knew I shouldn’t have worn that skirt.
And when nothing makes sense, someone shrugs and says: it’s all luck, because did you see that girl? — the one who wore the wrong shoes, had a scar on her hand, and said all the wrong things… and still got through?
Or the guy who was so hot, it was basically cheating.
How do you explain that?
You don’t — not if you’re busy blaming the hemline or luck.
Luck is easy to believe in when you’ve got no framework to interpret what actually happened. And airlines don’t give feedback. So we turn to the only chain of command we know: each other.
But they failed too, and they also wore that same skirt, and…
…and on and on.
Suddenly, there’s no way anyone can pass — not unless their applicant number gets pulled out of a hat.
Believing it’s luck isn’t just soul-destroying and unhelpful. It’s insulting. It undermines the recruiters. It says: “Hey, aviation professional — you’ve no idea how to do your job.” It also undermines the people who do succeed. And isn’t this profession already minimised by the general public enough? Let’s not do that.
People calling it luck don’t understand the recruiters, the process, or the role they’re applying for.
So, let’s look at those in turn.
Ground School
No, not Karen in HR
You probably know this, but it always bears repeating: Those recruiters aren’t clipboard-wielding Karens from HR. They’re flight-hardened, seasoned crew. Seniors, line trainers. Former flight attendants.
They’ve not just seen it all, they’ve watched a lot of people.
Passengers. Crew under pressure. They’ve seen patterns. Micro-signals. Everything you don’t realise you’re showing.
And they aren’t guessing — they’re observing.
Let’s quantify this with some stats. According to S10 – E19 of Airline UK , nine years in the jumpseat translates into twelve million passengers served. Golly.
That’s who you’re dealing with. Highly trained people-watchers.
That’s not guesswork. That’s behavioural data — logged and live.
And that’s before you even factor in the SEP training they’ve had, where they’re literally taught to scan for behavioural anomalies.
They see everything.
Who speaks with presence. Who holds space for others. Who collapses when the plan derails. Who keeps the team stitched together with eye contact alone.
They’re not deciding if you’d look cute pouring juice. They’re not clutching their pearls because of the mole on your arm.
They’re thinking:
Would I trust you with a defib kit?
Would you freeze or act when the entitled businessman in 34B refuses to sit down during turbulence?
Could you act when the Captain shouts, “Brace for impact”?
They know what happens when the wrong person gets through.
It’s not just lacklustre service. It’s broken trust. Fractured teams. Missed safety cues. And it’s the kind that pus lives at risk.
Those group tasks that get your heart racing? They’re meant to. Because polished rehearsals don’t survive chaos. Chaos reveals character. And chaos is the job.
So when you’re laser-focused on doing the task “right” — fretting about that girl in paisley, or whether your hair’s doing that weird thing again — that’s exactly when recruiters lean in.
Because to them, it’s not a task or a topic. It’s not about the paper tower, the survival priorities, or whatever you’re pretending to care about. It’s a behavioural x-ray.
And they want to see what you’re hiding behind all that interview polish.
They’re watching what you do when things go tits up because things will, routinely, go tits up all the time at 38,000 feet.
Let’s talk about those tits. The ones that have, well and truly, gone up in the air on your assessment, and how we might restore support.
Ground School
Tits need support
Mistakes are inevitable — the system is built that way. Why? Because recruiters aren’t assessing perfection. They’re assessing response.
The strongest impression doesn’t come from a perfect moment — but from what follows a flawed one.
Recruiters need to see how you’ll cope aboard — before they ever hand you a uniform with the airline’s reputation stitched into the hat.
They’re judging what the job needs. And the role requires adaptability. Certainly not a flawless performance.
Trust is built in how you come back from a mistake — not whether you made one.
Ground School
Learn to Debrief
So, is it luck?
If you arrive at a 400+ person Open Day and anyone left standing is asked to leave before assessments begin due to safety regulations — yes, that’s bad luck. But it doesn’t count against you. You weren’t assessed, so you’re free to try again.
If you misclick a button during your video interview and skip a question — yep, that’s good old-fashioned bad luck too.
And sure, sometimes someone slips through on good luck. But don’t mistake the exception for the standard.
It’s comforting to believe it’s random. It softens the blow. Rejection feels less personal.
That’s why I reinvented myself over and over — new persona, new answers, new walk, new voice. Because if it was never really me at the interview, then it was never me who failed. Just the version I’d built.
But here’s the problem: when you believe it’s out of your hands, you stop using them.
What’s the first thing any good crew member does when the unexpected hits? Assess. Diagnose. Respond.
Rejection works the same way.
Start by replacing the word luck with lack.
Because something was lacking that day — in your approach, your clarity, your presence, your communication, your teamwork — and your job now is to get curious about what that was.
I didn’t get curious until my nineteenth interview. That’s seven years of rehearsed façades and painful reruns.
That wasn’t failure. That was feedback I hadn’t learned how to hear yet.
So don’t ask, why did this happen to me? Ask, what is this trying to teach me?
Now, straighten your lapel. Square your shoulders. Grab a pen.
Write the incident report. Debrief yourself.
What didn’t work that day?
Not punishment. Not shame. Just honest, calm reflection.
That’s the work. That’s the shift.
Awareness puts you back in the jumpseat.
Ground School
Here’s that complimentary crosscheck: Airline S10 E19 – 13:55.
Ground School
For The Serious And Committed
In the The Cabin Crew Interview Made Easy Finishing School, learn to read the process like crew read a cabin: calmly, accurately, without guessing. And when no one gives you feedback, you won’t need it — because across eight simulated interviews, we’ll unpack exactly what’s being tested, and why.
Post Host:
Caitlyn Rogers
Former Serial Reject Turned Emirates Cabin Crew Graduate – Author of The Cabin Crew Interview Made Easy.
These posts do not pass judgement on any individual. I highlight behaviours and myths within the process — most of which I’ve been guilty of myself. I advocate for all airlines. I am not endorsed by Emirates, and all opinions expressed are my own. These posts are intended to inform, support, and encourage aspiring cabin crew.
