Runway: the Finnair blog

So far I’ve only written a couple of blog entries, and yet I’ve mentioned hugging twice already. My husband’s expression reveals that he is confused about my job description. I don’t even dare to imagine my supervisor’s expression.

I do apologize. And you as a passenger really don’t have to worry, as usually I’m quite docile at work, and stay on my own turf. Out of Finnair’s success factors (fresh, Finnish, creative and safe), I imagine I mainly represent safety.

Here’s an example: One day at the airport, a little girl was tugging her mother’s sleeve, pointed her sticky finger at me and said, “Mummy, look at that policewoman!” See what I mean? Even little girls think I look reliable.

I would like to think that I represent a lot of other admirable things too, but recently I’ve been told some home truths. I hear you.

Whenever I leave for a flight, there are people in the crew that I’ve never met. Just the other day, I flew with a steward (older than me), whom I’d not had the pleasure of meeting earlier. He was tremendously happy because I reminded him of his mother. I saw myself age without even glancing in the mirror. Practically a granny!

I certainly didn’t get any younger when one of the passengers commented on what a pleasure it was to see an older person smile. An older person! I’ll remember the word “older” for the rest of my life, and this event took place nearly ten years ago. However, feedback is a gift – so thank you!

I carried on smiling, and right there in front of me, on row 6, I saw a mouth the size of Texas, revealing a string of pearly white teeth as the chap laughed out loud. I had to ask what was so funny. “You are! And the way you laugh,” he replied. So was I smiling too much now?

A German group of women soon wiped the smile off my face. They wanted to share their impression of me – apparently I resembled the Princess of Monaco. Ah, finally a real compliment! I’ve always thought that Princess Caroline is beautiful, and a stylish representative of her country. Thank you, thank you so much. Oh, you didn’t mean her, but Princess Stephanie? I see. However, this clarification did not bring on a royal fit, which I guess just goes to show that there’s no blue blood running in my veins.

Rosy cheeks common to Central Europeans are not among my qualities, as I tend to be on the Northern European pale side. Perhaps I seemed a little red-faced this time, as I proceeded along the aisle – an older, almost royal, motherly, funny-to-the-point-of-being-ridiculous policewoman. Suddenly I was addressed in Flemish. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand,” I replied in English. “What,” the customer retorted. “You don’t? But you have a DUTCH FACE!”

I’ve decided that the Dutch are an attractive nation. Possibly the most beautiful out of all nations.

So thank you for all your heart-warming feedback. And I’m sorry, but as far as I’m concerned, I’m sure there’s no need to say, “Who does she think she is!”

I’m quite aware of who I am – the feedback I’ve received so far has been quite frank, and even though it has mainly dealt with my outer assets, my identity is beginning to take shape.

I think I could even jump a queue outside a club and ask, “Don’t you know who I am?” because I certainly know now…

Helena Kaartinen

P.S. I suppose an airline joke is appropriate in this context, so here goes: Some years ago, a displeased passenger grumpily addressed an elder steward, “Don’t you know who I am?” The steward turned to his colleague and remarked, “Oh dear. We seem to have yet another, who does not know who he is.”