After the energy-draining navigation of the imbroglio known as Dublin Airport and the long route march to the departure gate I sat back and waited for an opportunity to order a relaxing drink.
Idly thumbing through the pages of Cara, our friendly in-flight magazine, in steerage class on the Aer Lingus Airbus to Madrid, I was heartened to read: "In addition to our in-flight catering, there is a bar service on most international flights. An extensive range of perfumes, cigarettes, liquor, fashion and gift items at attractive prices is also available."
We reached our cruising speed but there was no sign of the familiar drinks trolley. I summoned a passing flight attendant. "Oh, we don't serve or sell drinks any more on these flights," she told me. "It's an experiment to save money. You might still get a drink on the Atlantic but I'm not sure." If not selling drinks is a way of increasing revenue I think someone should talk to my local publican before he buys yet another new Mercedes.
My informative attendant went on to say that the extensive range of gifts was also no longer available at any price, attractive or otherwise, swiftly torpedoing any plans I might have had of surreptitiously sneaking a snifter from a half-bottle of gift cognac. She then dispensed a Cellophane packet containing a bap with a slice of cheese and a slice of ham, both thin enough to beat a razor blade in a slimming contest. "Is there a choice?" I asked.
"Did you order vegetarian in advance?"
"No."
"Sorry, that's all we have."
Drinkless and giftless, and speeding farther and farther from the bacchanalian delights of the Atlantic flight paths, I chanced upon a statement in Cara from Willie Walsh, chief executive of Aer Lingus. "We have a very clear and simple business strategy," said he. "It is about the relentless and aggressive reduction in our costs and passing on the results in the form of lower fares to our customers." Fair play to Willie. He turned a loss of €139.9 million in 2001 into a profit of €35.3 million in 2002 and reduced operational costs by 22 per cent. And I have found that his fares are now lower than Ryanair's on a number of routes.
He could shave off another few euro by sacking the cabin crew and installing vending machines fore and aft. Reducing operational costs invariably means reducing services to the customer. And it is not only in-flight comforts that have suffered.
Customer relationships are not what they used to be. I had occasion to complain to Aer Lingus about an aspect of another journey to Spain that I made not so long ago. Here is the response:
"Thank you for your recent correspondence. I am sorry to learn of your experience when you travelled with us recently. Please accept my sincere apologies for the undoubted disappointment caused. There is no excuse for the type of service you encountered. I can assure you that discourtesy or rudeness in any form is something we will not tolerate and I can assure you that the appropriate follow-through action will be taken to prevent a recurrence. I am very grateful that you have taken the time and trouble to bring this matter to our attention. . ." Etc., etc.
This is fatuous computer-
speak, not an attempt to deal with a customer's complaint, and Aer Lingus is far from being the only institution, public or private, that uses it. The response did not in any way address my complaint.
For a variety of reasons I wanted to change the date of a scheduled return flight from Malaga. I went to the airport there and asked Iberia, Aer Lingus's One World partner and handling agent, to do the business. I was told I would have to get approval first from the Aer Lingus office in Madrid. Could it not be done on the computer, I asked naively, eyeing the huge gleaming beast that I am quite sure could have spewed out, at the touch of a single key, the time of the last connecting flight on New Year's Day between Western Samoa and the Solomon Islands. No. Could I have the telephone number of the Aer Lingus office in Madrid, por favor? Don't have it - try Airport Information.
They did not have it either but they directed me, for reasons known only to the Spanish psyche, to an office dealing exclusively with charter flights from Germany. Sorry, they said, try Servisair. You should go to Iberia, they handle Aer Lingus, said Servisair. But when they heard the story of my frustrating trek round Malaga Airport they kindly agreed to ring Aer Lingus in Madrid. They scribbled a flight number on a scrap of paper and told me to take it to Iberia. The Iberia computer digested the scrap of paper, the flight was changed and Aer Lingus's partner and handling agent charged me €50 for my troubles.
On my return to Dublin I informed Aer Lingus of my difficulties and suggested that as they were now flying regularly to Malaga they should supply the Iberia computer with some basic information. Some weeks later I received the aforementioned catch-all response which could cover anything from attempted rape by a member of the crew to the accidental spillage of a cup of tea.
Up in the clouds and over the Sierra de Guadarrama on the descent to Madrid Airport, Willie Walsh is rattling on in Cara about his survival plan. It is the beginning, not the end, of change in Aer Lingus, he assures us. Let us hope that Willie and his team will not completely ignore the comfort, enjoyment and intelligence of the fare-paying passengers. We might even survive the survival plan.