The sheen of an airline's professed gratitude faded quickly.
I used to laugh at the announcement made, just after you board a flight, in which a special "warm welcome" is extended to customers who are part of the airline loyalty program. The idea that big corporations feel any warmth towards their customers, aside from the fuzzy feeling they get when emptying their wallets, had always struck me as particularly ridiculous.
Then one day I received a letter from Virgin Airlines, and my attitude changed. This letter congratulated me on my loyalty, and explained that, thanks to the many trips I'd been making to Sydney, I was now a Silver member, promoted from lowly Red. It also contained special tags that I could put on my luggage, alerting the world to my newly acquired status.
The tags were nice, of course, but this promotion also came with practical benefits. I could now check in extra luggage, and book seats closer to the front of the plane. Most importantly, the word "SILVER" would appear on my boarding passes, so that anyone peering over my shoulder as I queued up to board would see that I was special.
I was quietly chuffed by this, but my enthusiasm faded when my husband received a similar letter, proclaiming him a Gold member. Gold was better than Silver, of course, so he now enjoyed the same privileges as me, but could also use priority boarding, and had the right to be seated even nearer to the front. Most importantly, he was also granted membership of the Virgin Lounge.
"Lounge membership" is the jewel in the crown of rewards programs, with its undeniable ring of glamour, at least to plebs like myself. And now my husband had it, and I did not.
My irritation was exacerbated by the fact that his membership was earned with a single (!) international business class flight, which his work had paid for. Whereas I was a genuine frequent flyer, a loyal customer schlepping out to the airport every other week, back and forth, back and forth, always on Virgin. Didn't that count for anything?
The answer was no, it did not. I soon discovered that the key to ascending the status ladder is not frequent flyer points, but a mysterious thing called Status Credits. These are earned if you fly to more than one destination, travel further or purchase more expensive, flexible tickets. Flying domestic, on the same run, week after week, on the cheapest possible ticket, does not apparently cut it.
Now, there are benefits to lounge membership, but they are few. You can charge your phone, and order a reasonable coffee, but as a general rule, buffet food is out of the question, unless you enjoy playing listeria roulette. And if you think you're going to escape the crowds, forget it. By late afternoon, the Virgin lounge at Sydney airport is typically busier than a department store on Boxing Day.
Still, the idea that my husband should have access to all this, while I did not, was intolerable. My Silver membership did not gift me access to the lounge, but it did allow me to purchase lounge membership at a significant discount. Which I immediately did.
Determined to enjoy my new lounge privileges, I turned up to Sydney airport early. And, with so much time to kill, I decided to walk around to the front of the airport, and use the exclusive-looking lounge entrance that I'd noticed, tucked away there.
"I'm sorry, you can't come through here," the attendant snapped when I handed over my lounge membership card. "But I'm a member!" I protested. "Yes, you're a Silver member," she replied. "You have to be Gold or Platinum to use this entrance." I could feel the eyes of all of those lining up behind me. Gold and even Platinum eyes. And so I slunk back to the ordinary entrance, shamed at having my lowly status once again exposed.
By the time I finally got into the lounge the place was seething, with everyone swarming around the bar, as they do every afternoon, literally elbowing each other out of the way in order to get at their free drinks. Cheap wine and beer, without even the obligatory slice of lemon to disguise the taste. Stuff that most of these people wouldn't touch if it were offered up in any other environment. Yet here, it's irresistible. Because it is a perk. Because we can have it, and the plebs outside cannot.
And if that's your idea of status, then you really do have more credits than sense.