Qualitimes: True stories from everyday life, written by our colleague Fred Vahlkamp. With a little imagination, these stories can be translated into topics such as quality management, deviation management, and risk management. Enjoy reading.
The Journey Was Wonderful, the Return Trip Was Not
After a wonderful week in southern Spain with my eldest daughter, Lisanne, things start to go wrong almost immediately on our journey home. As we enter the very busy Malaga airport terminal, a lady with a small wheeled suitcase runs over Lisanne’s foot. Trouble. Lisanne is angry, very angry. She squeezes my arm and gestures vigorously with her other arm towards the rolling suitcase, with the lady attached to it. The lady is completely unaware of what has happened, both of the little incident and certainly of Lisanne’s outrage. Meanwhile, Lisanne continues to vent her frustration in her own unique way. Before long, I spot the yellow zone of the organisation Sin Barreras, meaning “Without Barriers.” That is where we need to be. When booking the ticket, I requested assistance for Lisanne. Not because she needs a wheelchair or anything like that, but because standing in a queue can be overwhelming for her, and consequently for the people sharing the queue with her as well.
The Shortest Queue at the Airport
In the hall “Without Barriers,” I find a rather large queue of wheelchair users waiting in front of a desk for instructions. That is not going to work, so I take a chance. Malaga has a special security entrance for people with disabilities. To use it, you normally need a pass showing that you have checked in at the Sin Barreras desk. We had not done that. No queue, plenty of peace and quiet. That calm is neatly interrupted by Lisanne’s verbal outbursts and enthusiastic arm-waving. For once, it works to my advantage. No one seems inclined to ask whether special assistance is actually required.
To my amazement, and certainly beyond my expectations, the lady walking ahead of me simply goes through the security scanner without hesitation. The officer on the other side is at least as surprised as I am and gives me a friendly smile while raising his thumb in approval. First major hurdle cleared. Getting something to drink, finding a restroom, reaching the gate, boarding, and flying are still on my checklist. It never once occurs to me that disembarking later on will turn out to be the greatest challenge of all.
Between Patience and Hurry
It’s one of those days when nothing seems to go smoothly. There appears to be some measure of forgiveness for the woman with the wheeled suitcase. The thing is, Lisanne sees women with wheeled suitcases everywhere, and in her opinion they are all perpetrators of some violent crime. The cry of “thaaaat one!” literally comes from the tips of her injured toes whenever she points at yet another one of those suitcase-toting criminals.
This has consequences, because all that arm-waving sends the carefully chosen container of fruit pieces flying off the table. And yes, there can be only one culprit, and that would be me. This day is beyond saving.
After a bathroom break, which fortunately goes off without a hitch, we head for the gate. Because we have assistance, we are allowed to stand separately from the group and are also the first to be called for boarding.
Lisanne simply isn’t feeling comfortable in her own skin, and in that state, any attempt to get her moving or to encourage any form of action is mainly an invitation for her to dig in her heels. The same thing happens in the tunnel leading to the aircraft. Everything proceeds one step at a time, and certainly not too quickly, which is apparently also the preference of a number of our fellow travelers.
Afraid they might miss the plane, we are repeatedly overtaken by people who either were not endowed with patience at birth or lost it somewhere along the way. It is pointless and definitely stress-inducing, especially because of the rolling suitcases rumbling past us, threatening to run over Lisanne’s not-so-sore but very long toes.
Breaking the Silence
At the end of the jet bridge, we have to wait just before the aircraft entrance; we can’t board yet.
The speed demons are there too, and as far as Lisanne is concerned, there is still a score to settle with them. Her anger begins to edge toward aggression, and fortunately she directs it only at me. She tries to hurt me in the ways she knows she can, and there is a different look in her eyes now: empty and pale.
All around me, passengers watch the scene with quiet bewilderment. The tension is tangible. We are flying to the Netherlands, so I take a chance on the language.
“People, I realize this is a strange scene for you, but for me it is familiar. This is my daughter. She cannot help it. Please don’t worry. The anger will pass in a moment.”
The atmosphere in the jet bridge changes instantly. Breaking the silence is immensely valuable, although it does take a bit of courage. We are seated, Lisanne by the window, me in the middle seat. Three hours of flying, three hours of pushing and pulling. We land.
There Was the Bus
When you board first, you get off last. That makes sense when you’ve requested assistance, and on this trip it turns out to be a very good thing as well.
To my dismay, I spot a bus waiting beside the aircraft. That’s not going to work, my brain whispers, by now somewhat overloaded. At this relatively small airport, the plane is often parked close to the terminal and it’s usually just a short walk. That hope has now disappeared.
The crowd that has already boarded the bus stares curiously at the empty aircraft stairs. I can see that, because we are still sitting neatly in our seats, and there seems to be no intention whatsoever from the person beside me to change that situation. A flight attendant helps by bringing our little suitcase forward, and that immediately acts as a signal for Lisanne.
Once we reach the galley, the small area by the exit door, I explain that the bus really is a bridge too far right now. Looks of understanding are exchanged. A waiting bus full of passengers, and two people staying behind.
Then the pilot steps out of the cockpit. He looks, listens, and he makes a decision.
The Pilot
“You can leave the aircraft with the crew in a moment. We’ll walk together across the apron to the terminal.” A fellow human being. Someone who sees what is happening and understands it. I am deeply grateful to him, and I make sure to tell him so.
The bus departs, and we walk down the stairs. We stand out somewhat among the crew members in their uniforms, and an airport employee notices that too.
“That’s not allowed,” I see him signal to the pilot.
“For now, this is how it has to be,” comes the reply.
Lisanne loves the special treatment, as well as the uniforms of the people around us. Just like that, she is suddenly having a wonderful time, the little dragon.
After thanking the crew once again, Lisanne and I are able to walk straight toward the exit. There, José is waiting for us. Lisanne throws her arms around her, giving me a moment to retreat to a quiet corner and work through the stress that has built up.
Thank you, pilot. You were there exactly when you were needed.
The Moral, in Professional Terms: The Power of a Well-Considered Exception
The pilot in question almost certainly was not authorized to let us walk across the apron with the crew. It was against the rules, and airport regulations tend to be quite strict. Breaking the rules requires the right competence, courage, and determination. In this case, all three were present. He left no room for anyone to overrule his decision, because in his judgment this was the right course of action in a highly specific and exceptional situation.
Documenting rules in work instructions, procedures, and process descriptions is of great importance. It helps ensure that work is carried out in accordance with established specifications and achieves the desired outcome, in other words, meets expectations. That does not change the fact that assessing a particular situation may sometimes lead to a carefully considered deviation from those rules. Such a deviation can be a one-time exception and does not necessarily require the rules themselves to be changed, especially in an area such as safety.
It reminds me once again of something my former business economics lecturer used to say:
“There is nothing more practical than a good theory. If you know the theory, you understand why, in practice, you sometimes deviate from it.”
