Tuesday, July 17, 2012

Flybe: When Half-Assed Is Too Competent

I booked a Flybe flight from Edinburgh to the 'dorf via Manchester a few months back, and I never received my confirmation. There was a charge on my credit card* with a ticket number (roughly 200 digits) but no reference code.


A few weeks later, I get a call at work about "a slight schedule change" that they said would only make me leave a few minutes earlier than my original 3:15pm departure.  I said sure, and they claimed they would send a confirmation.  They did not.


So I get to Edinburgh after searching all my email accounts** to no avail.  I arrive at the Flybe desk at 1:30pm and present my passport.  They claim I have no flight.  I find my ticket number and they say that the check-in desk staff can't deal with it, but the ticket desk can.  They point me in the right direction.


As I walk, I hear this chunk of an announcement: ... FLYBE flight XXX to Southhampton is canceled. I think, "poor bastards" and keep walking.


I get to the desk, give them my ticket number, and they say, "Oh, yes.  You WERE on the flight to Manchester, but now you're on the flight to Southhampton." They pause and give each other a weighted look. "But you've... missed that.  We'll see if we can put you on the original one."  They mutter to each other about how they don't know why i was changed, then print out my ticket and send me on my way.


I board the flight to Manchester, then disembark only to find there is no gate for my next flight. I head to the "lounge" which is populated almost entirely by young (and wish-they-were-still-young) women that look like they're about to head to the club.  When my gate is announced, I trek back in the same direction I came.  As I look out the windows, there's only 1 Flybe plane on the tarmac, and it looks pretty damn familiar.


I get to the gate, MY gate, and board the plane.  The morons at Flybe not only changed my flight, but they rescheduled me to arrive later and to disembark on a layover.  Ugh.  Dolts.  To top it off, neither of the flight attendants even vaguely recognized me.  In their defense, it had been 20 minutes since they last saw me.

* Name: JT Richardson. Number: 12345678999999999 Expires: 9/2099 CCV: GFY
** Yes, I have too many.  I know.

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