Saturday, December 15, 2007

Where In The World Is My Bag, George?


One bag. That's all I packed. That's all I checked in on my flight from Jacksonville to Birmingham, Alabama. Just one lousy bag.

Well, after investing a whole day of my life trying to get from Jacksonville to Atlanta to Birmingham, I discovered after all bags had been claimed by the fortunate ones, that mine didn't make it.

So ... I stood in the Delta Baggage Claim line. Yep ... along with 20 other "less fortunates" like myself. A strange brotherhood formed as we all told stories of lost luggage, delayed flights and people and places we would not get to enjoy as a result of FLYING. Our line of "less fortunates" stood facing one weary, beat up looking man wearing a wrinkled Delta uniform. All I could imagine is this is what bad pilots end up being ... Delta baggage claim guys. It's like pilot purgatory.

When it was my turn to tell my sob story to the claim guy I learned first hand that he was really just a nice man caught in a raw deal. He entered my baggage claim number in his computer, got my number and assured me my bag would be delivered to my hotel in Birmingham. He then gave me a printed receipt with an 800 number that he said I could call to check the progress of finding and reuniting my bag and me.

By the time I got to the hotel it was 14 hours after I left Tallahassee to drive to Jacksonville to fly to Birmingham via Atlanta. After a few hours, panic set in. Bright and early the next morning I was supposed to head a workshop for 50 association executives in Alabama and all I had to wear was what I had on ... faded jeans, t-shirt, no socks and deck shoes. I didn't even have my toothbrush and razor. The worst part was ... I didn't even have a fresh change of boxers.

Wait a minute. That was bad, but not the worst thing. The worst thing was some of my handouts were in my bag, too.

So I reached in my pocket, pulled out the baggage claim receipt and dialed the Delta 800 number. After ten minutes listening to on hold ads, being asked if I wanted to take a survey and dealing with a virtual person who couldn't get my baggage claim number right I began to scream, "representative ... live person ... real human being ... now or I'll shoot!"

My wish came true ... a calm voice on the other end of the line said, "this is George, I am sorry your baggage was delayed. How may I help you, sir?"

I gave him my claim number and waited as George pounded the numbers into his computer. "Sir, your baggage will arrive in Birmingham and be delivered to you hotel within 12 hours from arrival time."

I asked George what time arrival time was. He answered, "Sir, I have no idea. Our computers don't tell us that. It simply says we have found you bag, it is in the system and will be delivered to you within 12 hours after it arrives in Birmingham."

I was about ready to ask George to connect me back with the virtual person I had originally, when it hit me. "George, you are not from these parts are you?"

"No, sir."

You're from India, aren't you, George"

"Bombay, India, sir."

"George", I said calmly, "give me the phone number of baggage claim in Birmingham, Alabama in the United States of America."

I was standing and saluting when I was firmly gave these instructions when George said, "sir, non of the baggage claim departments in America have direct phone lines. The only number is the one you have."

"Could I speak to your supervisor, George?"

All I remember was George saying, "yes, sir" before he pushed a special button that was designed to return me to the United States and the familiar sound of a good old American dial tone.
My luggage made it late that evening. When I shared my story with my audience the next morning, their unanimous suggestion was to drive from Tallahassee to Birmingham next time.

Oh yeah, and to always carry an extra pair of boxers, by George.

Where In The World Is My Bag, George?
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