If you somehow found your way here, that means you're extremely desperate for advice. You might have been on a waiting list for a month or two. Or three. You probably tried looking for help on cabincrew.com, and found only an excellent source of "novelty" degrees, false passports and brave attempts at the written word. Therefore, I thought I'd begin with a run-through of the application process for Etihad Airways, and why you should stop panicking and cross your fingers. Put off by the wall of text? Skip to the end for some tasty bullet points!
After returning, we were split up into groups and assigned a strange task. Given a collection of about 40 index cards with seemingly-random words written on them, we had to group them in threes by category - for example, gold-silver-bronze, banana-apple-orange and so on. Then, we had to create a story using all the words, a task that only people with great teamwork can accomplish apparently. We spun an epic tale of an Olympic competition between planets, and once again my name was called out. The merry band of misfits had been pared down from 250-ish to roughly 25, and there was only one other handsome y-chromosome-carrier. Interview times were distributed, and in a foolhardy grab for positive attention, I took the earliest slot at the ungodly hour of 8 in the morning.
By some freak chance, I my interviewer was male, Irish and had grown up just down the road from me. The interview was pretty similar to any other interview, with a heavy slant towards personal experience working with diverse teams and dealing with difficult customers. I had done a little research about the company, had removed all dirt and debris from my person and had given the impression that I didn't have a side career in axe murder - what more could they ask for? A few days later, I received an e-mail congratulating me on being placed in a holding pool, and assuring me that I would be put in the first available course. That was on the 14th of June. The reason I didn't start until the 25th of November will have to wait for another time.
I hope this little...thing was helpful! For all the meat without the surrounding waffle, check out the bullet points below.
My story begins on a typical Irish June. The rain blasted against the windows as a I hid in my room. It had taken me three years, but I had forgotten about the most popular post-secondary school question - "what are you going to do next?" As I'm the kind of person who has trouble deciding what to have for dinner, one can imagine how this question vexes me, and it had started to rear its ugly head again. For lack of anything else to do, I decided to search jobs.ie for anything that wouldn't involve me bothering strangers with Sky subscriptions or taking a slice of charitable donations as a "chugger", a delightful term for those nice young people in matching jackets that cheerfully assault passing unfortunates with the most first-world of weapons - guilt.
Because this is the Era of the Internet, and I am incapable of doing one task well but heartily enjoy doing several badly, I looked for flights to see my girlfriend in Korea. On the Etihad Airways website I saw a listing for a recruitment day in Dublin. Like most post-grads I harboured a vague desire to travel, and it happened to fall on a day off from my then-career as a popcorn scooper and general sweeper-upper at the local cinema. I dusted off my C.V, pulled together the laundry list of required documents and fruitlessly Googled "Etihad interview advice". Oh well, I thought, it can't hurt to try.
The first thing I noticed when I walked into the meeting hall was the surprisingly even gender divide. I was handed an application form and a label with a number.
127. And I was over half an hour early.
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| Sure, spend your money on flannel shirts instead of STARVING CHILDREN. Or STARVING PUPPIES. |
The first thing I noticed when I walked into the meeting hall was the surprisingly even gender divide. I was handed an application form and a label with a number.
127. And I was over half an hour early.
 |
| In your face number 128! |
Apparently the final tally of hopefuls was almost 250. I dutifully filled out my form - noting with some concern a space for "letter of permission from father or husband" for the womenfolk - and brought it forward. I was cross-checked about my tattoos and lack thereof, and with a slight grin all 6' 4" of me was sent for a "reach test". After that little formality, we settled in our seats and were introduced to the wonderful world of Etihad Airways.
I knew that they were putting a spin on things, but it still looked like an excellent job. Accommodation and health insurance covered, all sorts of travel benefits for me and my family, and a rather dashing uniform. What else could a bright-eyed, bushy-tailed prospect-free graduate hope for? This turning point was followed by a laughable English test, and the even more laughable notion that being a native English speaker is a marketable skill.
A brief break while those dratted foreigners were weeded out, and we moved on to the next stage - roleplay. Come on now, no sniggering down the back. I was handed a little slip of paper detailing my exciting imaginary job as a waiter in an ill-fated restaurant that had seen fit to put me in charge for the day, and reminding me that referring to "official policy" would result in slow castration with a dessert spoon. My interviewer complained that her children had been served cold food. Ignoring the rather pertinent fact that these children were invisible, I turned on my charm and flung as much free crap as I could think of at her.
I knew that they were putting a spin on things, but it still looked like an excellent job. Accommodation and health insurance covered, all sorts of travel benefits for me and my family, and a rather dashing uniform. What else could a bright-eyed, bushy-tailed prospect-free graduate hope for? This turning point was followed by a laughable English test, and the even more laughable notion that being a native English speaker is a marketable skill.
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| Finally, whitey catches a break. |
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OHMADAMSOVERYSORRYHOWABOUTSOMEMOREBREADWHILEYOUWAITANDPERHAPSAROUNDOFDRINKS
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Following several minutes of anxious waiting, a list of names were called out in the time-honoured tradition of the TV talent show. To my happy confusion, mine was among them. We were ushered into another room, and given the good news with a rather pleasant request to remain calm, as a significant number of our new friends were being given the bad news. Some of them had travelled from as far away as Toronto for a shot at this, the daft buggers. This heart-warming moment was followed by some free time for lunch, which I spent wandering in the sun and avoiding the temptation to go to an excellent burrito place nearby.
After returning, we were split up into groups and assigned a strange task. Given a collection of about 40 index cards with seemingly-random words written on them, we had to group them in threes by category - for example, gold-silver-bronze, banana-apple-orange and so on. Then, we had to create a story using all the words, a task that only people with great teamwork can accomplish apparently. We spun an epic tale of an Olympic competition between planets, and once again my name was called out. The merry band of misfits had been pared down from 250-ish to roughly 25, and there was only one other handsome y-chromosome-carrier. Interview times were distributed, and in a foolhardy grab for positive attention, I took the earliest slot at the ungodly hour of 8 in the morning.
By some freak chance, I my interviewer was male, Irish and had grown up just down the road from me. The interview was pretty similar to any other interview, with a heavy slant towards personal experience working with diverse teams and dealing with difficult customers. I had done a little research about the company, had removed all dirt and debris from my person and had given the impression that I didn't have a side career in axe murder - what more could they ask for? A few days later, I received an e-mail congratulating me on being placed in a holding pool, and assuring me that I would be put in the first available course. That was on the 14th of June. The reason I didn't start until the 25th of November will have to wait for another time.
I hope this little...thing was helpful! For all the meat without the surrounding waffle, check out the bullet points below.
Open Day Process
- Smart business wear. I'd recommend putting your hair up and wearing a skirt for the women, it'll give them a good idea of what you'll look like in uniform. Also, research the company a little - find out how many destinations we fly to, new or pending destinations, how long we've been operating for, all that good stuff.
- Registration and reach test: be honest about tattoos, as it will come back to bite you.
- Introductory video, questions and answers, written English test: native speakers, make sure you don't get too cocky - read the damn thing over!
- Role-play: for all that is good and sweet in this world, DO NOT REFER TO "POLICY". Listen, smile, apologise, offer an alternative and a "sweetener", a little bonus to cheer them up.
- Group session: listen to everyone's opinions. If you speak over someone, apologise. Do little things, like pass around pens.
- One-to-one interview: expect lots of questions about your personal experience, specifically about difficult customers, conflict within teams, times you received good and bad customer service, the difference between good and great customer service. Typical interview stuff, really.
Disclaimer - the views expressed here are not necessarily the views held by Etihad Airways. I am not an official spokesperson for Etihad Airways. As with all advice on the Internet, take what I say with a Dead Sea worth of salt.
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