A PORTUGUESE VALLEY OF WOLVES - By Jose Correia Guedes
That day I was flying to Funchal at the controls of one of the two B737/200s that TAP had leased from the German company Condor to cope with the summer "peaks". They were already somewhat tired planes that, although they flew very well, showed some fatigue in a few systems. We called them with some irony the B737/...150, because they were short of 200.
When it seemed time to do so, I asked Air Traffic Control for permission to begin the descent to Funchal.
"Negative," replied the controller. "There is oncoming traffic at a lower flight level. Maintain flight level 350 and hold."
At the time there was still no secondary radar in Madeira and as a result the separations were made on time. While this was happening, a huge downpour was approaching the island, which could have complicated our landing. It wasn't my lucky day, I thought.
When we were finally allowed to descend, we were vertical to Porto Santo, just a few miles from our destination.
I then decided to come down with everything I had at hand (speedbrakes at maximum) to try and get to the runway before the downpour, which in fact I did, but the plane's weak pressurization system couldn't keep up with that rate of descent and as a result ended up causing some discomfort to the ears of the passengers and crew too.
The landing went smoothly and, as expected, minutes later a heavy downpour hit the airport, flooding the runway and leaving visibility at almost zero. It was a close call.
Already in the parking lot and while I was sorting out the navigation charts, a Flight Attendant (A/B) came into the cockpit and spoke to me like this:
"Oh Commander, watch how you land as I still have three more landings to make today!"
I didn't care. On the one hand, I was aware that the descent had been somewhat "aggressive" and, on the other, I knew that some A/Bs of that generation left something to be desired in terms of good manners.
Minutes later I went to the galley for a coffee and was chatting with the Cabin Chief (C/C) until the same A/B approached me again and said something like this:
"Be more careful, Commander. I'm sick and my ears can't take another landing like that."
It was then that I thought the conversation was going beyond the limits of decency and I told him that I wouldn't allow him to speak to me in that tone. I added that if I wasn't up to it, I shouldn't have flown here.
Taken by surprise, A/B replied:
"Yeah? Then I'll be sick right here."
He then picked up his luggage and left the plane without saying another word.
We were left with a huge problem. The flight to Lisbon was completely full and the lack of a member of staff in the passenger cabin would certainly affect the on-board service.
That was indeed the case. The service either didn't take place or was much reduced, I can't remember, but it drew severe criticism from passengers. Deserved, no doubt.
That day we still went to Brussels and after that it was time to report the incident in Funchal so that the management could take the appropriate measures.
My report was relatively benign and I merely mentioned that A/B had left the service because she was feeling unwell, a fact of which she had informed me directly. I deliberately omitted the terms in which she did so.
The C/C, I found out later, told me all about it in his much longer and more complete report.
I didn't think about it again until a couple of weeks later when someone knocked on my door and I went to see who it was. There was this A/B girl, accompanied by her mother and another toddler. They were crying convulsively and bursting into apologies. "I didn't mean it, I didn't mean to offend you, I was really ill, etc."
.
"Very well. You're excused, you can stop your tears. Is there anything else you need?"
"Yes," replied A/B. "I've received a notice from TAP saying that a disciplinary procedure has been opened against me with the intention of dismissal. It'll be a disgrace, sir, I'm the sole breadwinner of the family."
I felt like asking why he hadn't thought of that before leaving the plane and speaking to me in that tone, but I didn't think it would do any good.
However, the tears continued apace.
Those who know me know that I'm a real jerk when it comes to situations like this, and I promised that I would try to do what I could to avoid the outcome that had been announced.
And so it was. The next day I went to the TAP offices and started by talking to the cabin crew, flight attendants and flight attendants.
"This is a terrible element," they said. "We've wanted to get rid of it for a long time."
"And do you have any complaints?", I asked
.
"Many"
"Show me"
"Hummm. We only have verbal complaints. Nobody wrote..."
"Got it. So you want to take advantage of my report to fire the girl, don't you?"
"Yeah..."
"Just know that won't happen"
I then went to the personnel department where the disciplinary process was taking place and asked to speak to the lawyer in charge. I told him that I had accepted the apology and wanted the case to be closed.
"Impossible, Commander. The process can't be stopped. Only with an express order from the Director General of Flight Operations."
I went to talk to the DGOV, who at the time was a commander known for his bad temper and frequent fits of rage. They called him "Zé Craque" because he belonged to that small group of people who do everything very well. He was a top-notch pilot, an excellent tennis player, an expert with a golf club and in his youth he had been a top soccer player.
I went into the office and told him what I was doing. The DGOV, who was aware of the situation, put his hands on his head and told me:
"Only you could get me into a problem like this."
He thought and rethought and finally threw it at me:
"Okay. The case will be closed, but be warned that if the bitch (I'm sorry, but that's exactly how the boss put it) messes up again, I'll call you here, not her."
As I was never called to the DGOV office again, I assume there was no problem with the A/B in question.
He never thanked me and the few times we crossed paths in the airport corridors I felt he looked away.
Was it shame?
