Atlanta Airport Airline Agent Keeps Busy with Passengers' Drama

Posted on Mon, Mar. 22, 2004 

Atlanta Airport Airline Agent Keeps Busy with
Passengers' Drama

By Kirsten Tagami, The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
Knight Ridder/Tribune Business News


Mar. 21 - A small, wild-eyed woman darts up to the
AirTran Airways ticket counter. She steadies herself
against the counter and sighs. Her breath reeks of
liquor.

Jeffrey Cigola, an AirTran customer service
specialist, pretends not to notice.

"Can I help you?" he asks with calm detachment.

"Can you save me from killing my ex-husband?" the
woman slurs.

This is Cigola's life every Sunday through Thursday, 3
to 11:30 p.m. --- or later if there's stormy weather.
He puts on a firehouse-red blazer, roams Concourse C
at Hartsfield-Jackson International Airport and looks
for trouble. And people seem to expect him to solve
all their problems: canceled flights, lost wallets,
missed meetings, marriages gone awry.

For Cigola and hundreds of other airline agents in
Atlanta, every day is an episode of the reality-TV
show "Airline," which gives viewers a glimpse behind
the scenes at Southwest Airlines. The show vividly
illustrates why many people would consider such a job
to be a living nightmare.

But for Cigola, 25, who has been captivated by
aviation since childhood, it's a dream come true.

Cigola has never seen "Airline," which recently was
renewed for a second year. The A&E show airs at 10
p.m. Mondays, when he is busy helping passengers
resolve their own TV-worthy dramas. The Atlanta
Journal-Constitution recently spent an afternoon with
him to see what plotlines unfolded.

As air traffic rebounds, long lines and crowds have
made a comeback at the airport. Frazzled travelers are
looking for someone to listen to their woes and,
hopefully, make their trips a little easier. At
AirTran, that person often is a "Red Coat" like
Cigola.

The fast-growing airline created the position two
years ago after deciding it needed a group of people
dedicated solely to help solve passengers' problems.
Ten Red Coats work each shift.

Most airlines have some version of a Red Coat: Delta
Air Lines --- which used to call its troubleshooters
Red Coats but put them in plainer uniforms last year
--- has about 150 such workers at its giant Atlanta
hub.

It's not a job for everyone. AirTran says the annual
turnover among employees who deal directly with
customers is 22 percent.

"I can't imagine what it's like to be yelled at by
random people because of weather delays," says Shawn
Leventhal, a college student on spring break. He
approaches Cigola, who is helping out a gate, to see
about flying standby. Leventhal, wearing horn-rimmed
glasses and snakeskin cowboy boots, is trying to
return to Houston after spending time at home in New
Rochelle, N.Y. He flew out about three hours later.

"People often tell me, 'I could never do your job," "
Cigola says.

The small-town son of a Pennsylvania coal miner and a
high school attendance clerk, Cigola first visited an
airport when he was 8. He and his parents weren't
flying anywhere. They just thought it would be fun to
see the goings-on at Pittsburgh International.

Cigola recalls pressing up against a picture window in
one of the terminals and studying a USAir Boeing 737.
The pilots' crisp uniforms were splendid. He watched
with excitement as crew members and passengers hurried
on and off the plane, everyone with somewhere
important to go.

"I loved the busyness of the airport," he said. "I
wanted to be a part of that."

He got his wish.

When incoming planes are late, he meets passengers at
the gate and helps them connect to their final
destinations. He steers people in wheelchairs through
crowded corridors. If bad weather halts flights, he
apologizes and hands out $7 meal vouchers. If a mother
is stranded and has run out of diapers for her baby,
he brings her some.

If he has any downtime, Cigola goes to AirTran's
customer service desk, pulls people out of line and
tries to resolve their complaints.

But most of the time, problems come to him.

Cigola is a little surprised to see the drunken woman
because the nearest bar is closed for remodeling.
Turns out she has been waiting on another concourse,
under the false impression that her ex-husband had
bought her a ticket on Delta Air Lines. Now, she's
worried that she's late for check-in.

"He told me it was on Delta because that's what he
flies. He didn't think about it, but that's par for
the course for him," she says, mumbling something
under her breath. Then, as quickly as she had
appeared, she races off to the ladies' room with the
urgency of someone who suddenly realizes they left
$500 in one of the stalls.

Cigola shakes his head.

"I'm going to put a note in the computer to let the
gate agent know she appeared to be under the influence
but that she didn't cause a disturbance," he says,
although he adds that it's probably a moot point.
"She's guaranteed to wander off and miss her flight."

It's 1:30 p.m. and Cigola, who has come in early to
get some overtime, is helping out at a gate. A
dark-haired man in a leather jacket who apparently
doesn't speak English hands Cigola his boarding pass.
He points to his ticket and looks at Cigola
questioningly. He isn't sure what the man wants, but
he writes down the gate number and boarding time.

Cigola's grandparents immigrated from Italy, and he
speaks Italian fluently. His language skills most
often come in handy with Spanish-speaking customers.

"I usually can say something in Italian and they'll
understand. The languages are so similar," he said.
"They're so appreciative. The smile they give you,
it's great."

Cigola joined AirTran just 11 months ago and already
has made an impression.

Poised and outgoing, Cigola is on his way to becoming
a supervisor, then perhaps a station manager in one of
AirTran's smaller cities --- and then, who knows, said
Tad Hutcheson, a spokesman for the airline. "I have no
doubt he could go anywhere he wanted to in the
company."

Cigola stayed close to home during college, studying
transportation geography at Indiana University of
Pennsylvania. After graduation, he worked briefly for
a bank in his hometown of Kittanning, Pa. One day, he
decided to pack everything he could fit into his Dodge
Neon and head to Atlanta.

He didn't know anyone in Atlanta. He had no job to go
to. But he knew one thing: Atlanta was home to the
world's busiest airport.

Cigola rented a studio apartment and began scanning
want ads. When he saw AirTran was hiring, he
hand-delivered a cover letter and resume.

After a group interview and tryout that involved
role-playing and reading an announcement over a
loudspeaker, Cigola was one of 13 hired. He was chosen
in part because he showed remarkable empathy for
customers and could stay calm under pressure,
Hutcheson said.

Cigola began as a gate agent on the night shift making
$8.75 an hour. He was promoted in November to Red
Coat, which pays $10 and up.

Surveying the packed terminal, Cigola says, "Even just
walking down the concourse, you're stopped 20 times.
You put on the red jacket and boom! It starts."

"Where can I get a latte?" a woman asks.

At about 2:30 p.m., Brad Greene approaches Cigola. He
has lost his boarding pass.

"Between having a laptop and taking my shoes and belt
off, it just fell," said Greene, a furniture designer
from Tampa.

No problem. Cigola looks at Greene's ID and issues
another boarding pass.

It's not so easy to please a later customer, a sales
manager trying to get home to Chicago. John Ernst took
an early flight out of Savannah and checked his bags.
The bags made it to Atlanta but weren't transferred in
time for a 3:55 p.m. flight. Because of security
rules, Ernst and his bags cannot fly separately.

"I have you confirmed for 5:50. I could put you on
standby for 5:20," Cigola offers.

"They told me in Savannah my bags would transfer in
time. I would have taken my bags on board if I'd have
known this would happen," Ernst says, raising his
voice. "Unfortunately, now I'm going to miss my
daughter's swim meet. That's why I'm so [teed off]."

Cigola listens but has run out of options.

Finally, Ernst resigns himself to the wait and asks
for a meal voucher.

"I'm sorry, I can't do that," Cigola says.

"You're not earning my business!" Ernst says loudly,
and storms off.

AirTran gives employees a chart detailing when to give
out vouchers. A weather delay of three hours, for
example, means the passengers get an oral apology and
a $25 discount on a future flight. A five-hour delay
due to a mechanical difficulty means an apology, a
meal voucher and a $50 discount. And so on.

"As much as you might want to, you can't hand out meal
vouchers to everyone who asks for them," Cigola said.
About Ernst, he says, "You're not going to make
everyone happy."

Cigola and the other Red Coats learn not to take it
personally when customers get angry.

"I've been called everything you can think of, but as
long as I know I've done my job and helped everyone as
much as I can, I don't worry about it," Cigola said.

Conflict doesn't faze him. In fact, he kind of likes
it. Growing up the middle of three children, he used
to enjoy provoking fights between his older sister and
younger brother. "I was known as the instigator," he
says with a laugh.

As part of their training, new Red Coats shadow
experienced employees and learn strategies to deal
with irate passengers, such as pulling them away from
the crowd.

"We can understand they're upset," Cigola said. "I
would say let us help you. Give us the chance to help
you. Our job is not to strand you in Atlanta. Trust
me."

 

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