I wanted to become a flight attendant because I wanted to travel the world, experience different cuisines and cultures. Learn new languages, make great encounters, bond with locals, broaden my friend circle. What a pile of bollocks!

Truth is, I’m an overheadbin attendant and I get the lovely task of trying to fit all of my lovely passengers’ (unmonitored by the checkin officer) oversized carry-on in the dedicated overheadbins compartment.

I don’t really try to fit their hand luggage. I struggle. I was told algebraic equations and quadratic expressions would be useful in life but neither has proved useful at all to solve the hand luggage problem.

I’m a complusive shopper. Who isn’t? But when you’re a compulsive shopper you have better be a compulsive benchpresser too because who do you think will lift your dumbbell weight carry on in that overheadbin? Did I ask you to help me with mine? 

You’re allowed 7kg of carry on. If you read 17kg or 70kg then book an eye check ASAP. I’m not lifting your crap even if you misread that luggage allowance. It’s a very long day ahead for me. The flight deck announced a flight time of only 30 minutes, its true, that’s how long your flight is scheduled to last today. 

My scheduled operating duty for the day is 14h hours. In those 14 hours I’ll see hundreds of motherfuckers like you with overweight carry-ons struggling to fit them in the dedicated space above your head. So I better spare my energy not only to complete the whole day but also spare my muscles for life saving procedures which might require my assistance.

When a motherfucker asks me to help them that’s what I hear:

“Hey, plane-slave come here and break your arm lifting my bag which I know is overweight. That’s your job anyway.

Why don’t you ask me to wipe your ass after you took a dump too because I had to flush your turd and close the lavatory door after you left. That’s exactly what’s described in my duties and responsibilties. I just checked my standard operating procedures manual and that’s mentioned between evacuate an aircraft in 90 seconds and the fire fighting drill. 

The overhead stowage compartment is not too small. Just like you’re too fat to fit on your seat, and you had to book two of them, they answer to a certain standard which is hard for you to fit in. The problem is not the seat. It’s you.A plane is not a clothing store where you ask for a size 10 when you can’t fit in a size 4. Unlike the salesperson who will try to look for your size. Your overheadbin attendant will tell you to fuck off in the blink of an eye. 

Being pregnant does not qualify for special assisstance. If you can’t lift, don’t spread your legs. Easy. 

The overhead stowage compartment is not designed to fit your lifespan. If you have to evacuate a plane on fire you will be allowed to take only one item with you. It’s your life. Leave all hand luggage behind. Don’t even think about opening the overheadbin.
How do I know? Let’s say years of flying made me an overheadbin attendant specialist.

Your dedicated Overheadbin Attendant with a hint of hospitality and loads of sarcasm


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