The problem with all of this was that I wasn't hugely interested in “the markets”. They went up, they went down. Usually just little bits every day. Yawn. I wanted a job that was exciting, that took me places. Something that involved engineering, a bit of elbow grease and an actual physical product.
As far as I was concerned, there was nothing more exciting than the men and women zooming around in giant flying machines owned by British Airways. Secretly, I wanted to work for them.
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| The sheepskin seats are an optional extra |
“Did you want to be a stewardess?” I hear you mock.
No.
“Did you want to be a pilot?”
No.
“Engineer?”
No.
“Customer service?”
No.
“Catering?”
No. Give up?
“Push-back truck driver?”
No.
“Ok, this is boring. Tell us”
I wanted to be the British Airways Gold Executive Club Cardholder.
And one day, in a moment of frantic despair and boredom, I called BA and boldly asked them for the job. I was pleasantly surprised at how I was received.
“Of course, Mr Vanderpump. We’d be delighted for you to join”, said the lady on the phone.
Wow, I thought. They asked me lots of questions about my current job. When they found out I was working for a bank, their interest only increased. I was being headhunted. I was so excited.
“I want to be your Gold Cardholder”, I said, putting it all out there.
“It involves a lot of travel. Mainly in Club World and First class” they said.
“That sounds ideal”, I said. Roaring around in planes drinking wine and watching films was the perfect job for me. I knew I would be good at it.
“What do I have to do to get the job?” I asked.
“Well”, she said, clicking away on her keyboard. “You need to start travelling. A lot.”
Luckily, the bank had offices all around the world. And so I took on the task with gusto, criss-crossing the globe haphazardly. New York, Hong Kong, Tokyo, Sydney, San Francisco. Now, I would sit in meetings overseas while the miles and points clocked up saying things like “global” and “global footprint” and “pushing forward globally on the global footprint”. People still nodded and then we went out for sushi, noodles, sashimi or ribs. Still no wine.
It wasn't all plain-sailing, mind you. I had to start my career with BA at the bottom as the blue cardholder. It was all horribly pointless. They treated me like a complete nobody. I had to queue up everywhere and when I said I was working for them and flashed it, they just rolled their eyes. “I’m going for the top Gold Cardholder job”, I would say. I might as well have tried to get an upgrade with my Clydesdale Bank Squirrel Account cash card.
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| Is anyone on the 6 o'clock Alicante? |
But the people at BA soon realised I was going places – literally, in their planes, a lot – and we were in almost constant contact. They would send me letters regularly saying how much they wanted me. The top job of Gold Cardholder was in my sights and so I just kept going.
"Why are you travelling so much?” Amanda, our assistant at work, asked.
“Because I’m ambitious.” I said.
“Oh, get you, love.”
I ignored everyone at the bank which wasn't difficult because I wasn't there. I was exhausted, travelling my arse off, drinking limitless quantities of chilled Sancerre and enjoying the constant and inexplicable availability of the movie “Firehouse Dog”.
About fifty trips later, devastated that Firehouse Dog 2 was still stuck in pre-production, I got the call from BA saying that I had been promoted to the role of Silver Cardholder. I was pleased but I explained to the man that it wasn't the job I wanted.
“You need to fly more,” he said.
“More? Really? I’m hardly ever at home. What do you want, blood?”
These BA people were obviously tough employers. I noticed that even with my silver card, they treated me with a level of suspicion, like I was slacking off, only doing two Hong Kongs and a Sydney every week.
But still, my ambition burned inside me. I told them I was willing to go all out, put the late, long-haul hours in. Drain the galleys dry, plunder their club world lounges and raid the larder with breath-taking regularity. I would do it.
*
“Ed has a gold card”, said Amanda one day, at work.
I was in between trips momentarily. I took my feet off the desk.
“What?” I said.
“Yeah. He travels loads. But he’s married.”
“Since when was he the Gold Cardholder? What’s he doing working here still if he’s got that job? And more importantly, you fancy him? You know that’s not his real hair, don’t you?”
“Yeah, I’d do him a heartbeat” she said, plumping her breasts and fanning her face with her hands as the phone rang, unanswered.
“He’s all yours.” I said. “Seriously, go for it.”
Slightly thrown by the fact that someone could fancy Ed, I remembered that I appeared to have been beaten to the job. I couldn't believe they’d given it to Ed. I would have to oust him.
“Get me a taxi, Amanda,” I said. “I’m going to New York.”
*
I remember the day. I remember where I was. I remember what I was doing, wearing, drinking, banging on about, the moment I discovered I had got the job as the Gold Cardholder. They must have fired Ed, I thought, smugly. I was standing at the baggage carousel, exhausted, having just arrived back from Tokyo on a business trip to meet Mimi Yamamoto’s shih tzu. We hadn't got on. It had torn my new coat.
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| Not to be upstaged under any circumstances |
I immediately called hubby and my parents. “I’m really going places in the organisation”, I said. “They want me. I've been promoted, again. It’s the top job this time.” They were all delighted for me.
“It’s about time they promoted you”, said my dad.
"I know" I said, "I know."
I got the job offer in the post from them and awaited true spiritual happiness, my passage to the Concorde Room lit by the grace of BA, drawing me to the summit of my own Everest, the champagne bar at Terminal 5.
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| You don't even have to speak |
The next day in the office, I was just about to let everyone know about my promotion and imminent departure to work for BA full-time when out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a bag in Ed’s office that had a British Airways “Premier” card attached to it.
“What’s that?” I asked Amanda. She’d been out drinking again and smelled of cheap Chardonnay.
“Oh, that’s Ed’s new Premier card”, she said.
“Oh – fired, was he? Couldn't keep it up, could he? Shame because …”
“No Dave." she interrupted. "It’s the one higher than gold, they don’t mention it much. Very exclusive. He’s just been promoted.”
My world started falling apart like a piece of clothing from American Apparel after its second wash. I felt betrayed by my new employer and stupid for imagining that I had secured the top job when all the time I was still going to be reporting to Ed even when I worked at British Airways. I slumped down in my seat just as someone said something about a meeting I was supposed to be in.
“Not now”, I said, almost hallucinating from jet-lag. “I need to get back to Heathrow. Amanda … please ... I need to go somewhere far away and then come straight back.”
Amanda ignored me, painting her nails in a variety of lurid colours. “He got it ‘cos he flies backwards and forwards to New York, Hong Kong and Tokyo every week, twice a week sometimes. He's amazing”, she said. “I’m off for a fag”.
“That’s ridiculous”, I said. “It’s barely possible. Trust me, I’ve tried it.”
*
When the financial crash came, something called the “travel budget” meant that I could no longer pursue my dream job. The bank was all like “Dave - you've abused the travel budget”. I was like “what’s a travel budget?”
But more worryingly, BA were suddenly all frosty. They didn't seem to want me to do the top job anymore. I called my parents in tears. “It’s not working out”, I said. “It’s not for me. I gave this job everything, they just threw it back in my face.”
“Never mind” said my dad, “I don’t think you’re cut out for banking.”
“Who said anything about banking?”
Nowadays, I’m actually pretty happy flying down the back with Monarch. It’s stress-free in comparison to working for BA. You don’t have to try to impress them. Monarch have no idea who you are and they don’t care.
On a recent flight to Dalaman, I was amazed at the attention to detail on board. BA cabin crew could learn a thing or two from these yellow-and-black-clad canaries. First of all, we were offered (and this is to the entire plane on the tannoy system) champagne which promised a palate which was “a symphony of apples”.
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| Not sure what symphony they were playing |
Then, to go with it, Mini Cheddars made with real cheese. Finally, and this is the best part, they offered a twin pack of OK/Hello which featured a “radiant Kate’s return to Royal duties”. Monarch – I salute you for your sheer class, I lapped it all up.
BA can stick their Premier card up their huge, shiny Airbus A380.
Now, it's appropriate to share my recipe for an Aviation. This cocktail was very popular in the US when commercial jets started flying. It was often downed to calm the nerves. The recipe should, in theory have something called "Creme de Violette" in it, but finding this in the shops is about as much fun as ironing a fitted sheet.
The Aviation
2 shots of gin (preferably Miller's but can be any)
1 shot of fresh lime juice
1 shot of maraschino liqueur
1 shot of eldeflower cordial
Shake in ice and then strain into a cocktail glass. Garnish with a twist of lemon.
Couple of these and you'll be flying too, trust me.
DVP
