I sat in our Miami pilots' lounge, looking at the faces scattered around the room. It was a typical scene. Some pilots were reclined in lounge chairs while others were seated at a desk, plugged in to their laptops. Some pilots were engrossed in a newspaper.
The TV at the front of the lounge flickered with images from Iraq. As the captions on the bottom of the screen flowed by, a CNN reporter spoke about the latest military operations in Baghdad. The pilots who appeared to be watching the TV returned only blank stares. There was little in the way of conversation until a 50-something captain marched through the door. He exchanged greetings with another 50-something captain, seated toward the back of the room. From my close proximity, I couldn't help but overhear the conversation.
Apparently, both captains were involved in similar stages of a divorce. One of the captains made mention of an alimony payment that caused my heart to skip a beat. They were senior captains. I could only guess that they had been with the airline for at least 25 years. I had a good idea what their W-2s looked like. Even so, the alimony payment still was not pretty. And then one of the captains spoke of the pay cut and the tentative agreement. He was considering the sale of his home. The conversation became more depressing. They discussed retirement pensions and how they could disappear. I began to think about the younger pilots and their families. Some of these younger pilots would not even face the privilege of taking a pay cut. They would simply be out on the street, furloughed with an uncertain future. I could only shake my head.
Why do I bring up this conversation? Because it is typical of the conversations that are occurring in pilot lounges at almost every major airline. The words "bankruptcy," "Chapter 11" and "liquidation" are becoming a standard part of pilot vocabulary. Unfortunately, none of these words is on our checklists.
As I face the potential demise of my airline and possibly my career, I would like to share some insight. Please understand that this insight is from my vantage point. I can't speak for all of my fellow pilots.
A little background may be helpful. As you are probably aware, the major airlines were in an overcapacity situation long before September 11th. There were too many airline seats going to the same places. Remember the clear, blue days when La Guardia looked more like the Grand Central Parkway on a Friday than an airport? Too many seats translate into not enough revenue to go around. Too many airplanes waiting for takeoff translates into frustrated passengers, especially business people. With the economy beginning to slump, the business people began to limit their travel. When they did travel, they started to do more airline shopping. Our airline started losing the business people to smaller, cut-rate carriers. We also lost our business people to places like www.priceline.com, or we lost them to teleconferencing. Our business folks are the ones who pay the premium dollars. Their revenue made up for the families that had purchased the once-in-a-lifetime, heavily discounted ticket to Disney World. Regardless, our management felt that we had a premium product. Business people would still be willing to pay a premium price because we were a premium airline. As you know, that philosophy is still not working.
Enter September 11th. The icing on the cake. Tremendous losses occurred at all the major airlines as a direct result of the terrorist attacks. My airline had two hull losses, notwithstanding the more important loss of my fellow crewmembers, their passengers and the lives on the ground. In the days, weeks and months that followed, traveling on an airline was nothing short of a migraine headache. The premium business passengers had better things to do with their time than show up at the airport two hours before departure. They did come back, however, but not in droves. And they didn't come back paying premium prices.
