Because if it’s not luck, then what is it? I know I did everything right — so what the hell went wrong?
Oh — I remember now. It was my skirt.
That was my grand theory after my second interview with Virgin Atlantic. I told everyone back home that I didn’t get through because of that skirt.
It sounds ridiculous, doesn’t it? A skirt.
Or, maybe it doesn’t, not in this industry. In any other world, people would crinkle a brow, and ask if you’re feeling okay. But in cabin crew recruitment? A scar on your knee means failure. A mole on your arm is a scandal. Scroll through social media — every other post is a skin selfie. And everyone’s asking, “Is my mole recruitable?” Okay, that’s paraphrased, and laced with sarcasm, but it’s only because I’m sick and tired of all this dream-killing nonsense.
This is what we do when we don’t understand what’s happened. We reach for the nearest, most visible explanation, or the thing we were already worried about. Because, damn it, I knew I shouldn’t have worn that skirt.
And when nothing makes sense, someone shrugs and says: “it’s all luck“, because “did you see that girl? — the one who wore the wrong shoes, had a scar on her hand, and said all the wrong things… and still got through?”
Or the guy who was so hot, it was basically cheating.
How do you explain that?
You don’t — not if you’re busy blaming the hemline or luck.
Luck is easy to believe when you’ve got no framework to interpret what actually happened. And airlines don’t give feedback. So we turn to the only chain of command we know: each other.
But they failed too, and they also wore that same skirt, and…
…and on and on.
Suddenly, there’s no way anyone can pass — not unless their applicant number gets pulled out of a hat.
Believing it’s luck isn’t just soul-destroying and unhelpful. It’s insulting. It undermines the recruiters. It says: “Hey, aviation professional — you’ve no idea how to do your job.” It also undermines the people who do succeed. And isn’t this profession already minimised by the general public enough? Let’s not do that.
People calling it luck don’t understand the recruiters, the process, or the role.
So, let’s look at those in turn.
Ground School
Professional people-watchers
You probably know this, but it always bears repeating:
Those recruiters aren’t clipboard-wielding, cardigan-wearing HR professionals.
They’re flight-hardened, seasoned crew. Seniors, line trainers. Former flight attendants.
They’ve not just seen it all, they’ve watched a lot of people.
Passengers. Crew under pressure. They’ve seen patterns. Micro-signals. Everything you don’t realise you’re showing.
And they aren’t guessing — they’re observing. (check out the interview illusion for more on this.)
Let’s quantify this with some stats. According to S10 – E19 (timestamp: 13:55) of Airline UK , nine years in the jumpseat translates into twelve million passengers served. Golly.
That’s who you’re dealing with.
Highly trained people-watchers.
That’s not guesswork. That’s behavioural data — logged and lived.
And that’s before you even factor in the SEP training they’ve had, where they’re literally taught to scan for behavioural anomalies.
They see everything. Who speaks with presence. Who holds space for others. Who collapses when the plan derails. Who keeps the team stitched together with eye contact alone.
They’re not deciding if you’d look cute pouring juice. They’re not clutching their pearls because of the mole on your arm. They’re thinking: Would I trust you with a defib kit? Would you freeze or act when the entitled businessman in 34B refuses to sit down during turbulence? Could you act when the Captain shouts, “Brace for impact”?
They know what happens when the wrong person gets through. It’s not just lacklustre service. It’s broken trust. Fractured teams. Missed safety cues. And it’s the kind that puts lives at risk.
Those group tasks that get your heart racing? They’re meant to. Because polished rehearsals don’t survive chaos. Chaos reveals character. And chaos is the job.
So when you’re laser-focused on doing the task “right” — fretting about that girl in paisley, or whether your hair’s doing that weird thing again — that’s exactly when recruiters lean in. Because to them, it’s not a task or a topic. It’s not about the paper tower, the survival priorities, or whatever you’re pretending to care about.
Every task is a behavioural x-ray. And they want to see what you’re hiding behind all that interview polish.
They’re watching what you do when things go tits up because things will, routinely, go tits up all the time at 38,000 feet.
Ground School
Mistakes reveal success
Mistakes are inevitable — the system is built that way. Why? Because recruiters aren’t assessing perfection. They’re assessing response.
The strongest impression doesn’t come from a perfect moment — but from what follows a flawed one.
Recruiters need to see how you’ll cope aboard — before they ever hand you a uniform with the airline’s reputation stitched into the hat. They’re judging what the job needs. And the role requires adaptability. Certainly not a flawless performance. Trust is built in how you come back from a mistake — not whether you made one.
So, is it luck?
Ground School
Learn to Debrief
If you arrive at a 400+ person Open Day and anyone left standing is asked to leave before assessments begin due to safety regulations — yes, that’s bad luck. But it doesn’t count against you. You weren’t assessed, so you’re free to try again.
If you mis-click a button during your video interview and skip a question — whoops, yep, that’s good old-fashioned bad luck too.
And sure, sometimes someone slips through on good luck.
But don’t mistake the exception for the standard.
It’s comforting to believe it’s random. It softens the blow. Rejection feels less personal.
That’s why I reinvented myself over and over — new persona, new answers, new walk, new voice. Because if it was never really me at the interview, then it was never me who failed. Just the version I’d built.
But here’s the problem: when you believe it’s out of your hands, you stop using them.
What’s the first thing any good crew member does when the unexpected hits?
Assess.
Diagnose.
Respond.
Rejection works the same way.
So begin behaving like cabin crew right now.
Start by replacing the word luck with lack. Because something was lacking that day — in your approach, your clarity, your presence, your communication, your teamwork, your resume — and your job now is to get curious about what that was.
I didn’t get curious until my nineteenth interview. That’s seven years of rehearsed façades and painful reruns. That wasn’t failure. That was feedback I hadn’t learned how to hear yet.
So don’t ask, why did this happen to me?
Ask, what is this trying to teach me?
Then straighten your lapel. Square your shoulders. Grab a pen.
Write the incident report.
Debrief yourself.
What didn’t work that day?
Not punishment. Not shame. Just honest, calm reflection.
“I failed my cabin crew interview, can I reapply with a different email address?”
This, and variations thereof, are rapidly becoming one of the most common questions I see popping up on several cabin crew forums and social feeds. Before I say a word, I’ll let an airline do all the talking…
“Attempts to circumvent this policy may result in automatic dispositioning (aka: removal, disposal, scrapping) of future applications and could lead to indefinite restrictions from applying for the Flight Attendant role or other positions…”
Delta isn’t the only airline cracking down on this behaviour.
Remember, this is the aviation industry. Airlines don’t do loopholes and aren’t fooled by silly tricks.They crosscheck and triple check everything.
Ground School
Your're risking permanent disqualification
When you apply, you give more than an email address. You also provide your full name, your address, your photos and work history. Not to mention, you are giving a digital fingerprint, such as cookies, IP address, MAC address and other tech savvy things I’m not necessarily privy to or smart enough to verbalise.
But, here’s the bottom line:
Airlines give you a cooling off period for a reason.
They want and hope you’ll go away, for 3 or 6 or 12 months (depending on its policy), improve your candidacy, and return a better qualified applicant. Because, if you application was rejected, it’s for a reason and a new email address won’t solve that problem.
As of 2025, introversion raises more eyebrows in airline recruitment than having a sleeve of tattoos. That’s right. Tattoos are now permitted by a growing number of airlines, but mention introversion, and you’ll hear: “Airlines don’t hire introverts as cabin crew.”
In other words, being softly spoken disqualifies us faster than having inked eyeballs. (Huh?)
Yeah, that sounds ridiculous, because it is.
Airlines don’t have an “extroverts-only” boarding policy. That’s just one of many industry Old Wives.
But I fell for it because it came from an authority on the subject: the dreaded personality test.
I was thirteen when a personality test asserted: “Flight attendants are extraverts.” But I really wanted that uniform, so I did what any desperate dreamer would do — enrolled in personality laser treatments (aka acting school).
Of course, it didn’t work.
For nineteen failed interviews, I wasn’t an introvert or extravert, I was just weird.
Until it all changed at interview failure number nineteen.
First, I discovered this little fun fact:
Sir Richard Branson (yes, the founder of Virgin Atlantic, the poster boy for charisma) is a self-proclaimed introvert.
This guy…
That was my “you’ve got to be kidding” moment. Like learning Superman had vertigo.
So, I looked deeper and discovered another fun fact.
Airlines do hire introverts.
We even have our own moniker:
Slam-Clickers
So called because of our tendency to disembark from our flight, scramble to our hotel room, “slam” the door shut, and “click” the lock on then recharge with room service, bubble bath, and chocolates instead of hanging around the bustling hotel bar — sounds divine, don’t mind if I do thank you.
That’s when I realised: Being introverted wasn’t the problem. Not knowing how to use it was.
So, I traded volume for precision.
At my twentieth interview, I succeeded with Emirates.
Slam
Click
Exhale
Ground School
Before you Slam-Click the door, crosscheck.
There is no one-size-fits-all personality because there is no one-size-fits-all airline. There is only alignment, strategising your contributions, and knowing how to adapt like Crew.
Still, peeling off the label is only part of the challenge.
Being quiet won’t disqualify you, but the process itself isn’t built with introverts in mind and rarely plays to our strengths — or so it seems.
When you’re sitting in a semi-circle with twenty applicants all erupting into competitive small talk, it can feel like rush hour in the departure lounge. Loud, chaotic, and built for people who love to perform. But it’s all about strategy.
My third discovery was the one that got me the job.
I stopped chasing the loudest moments and started claiming the quiet, overlooked ones. The bits no one else noticed. I went from stumbling through awkward Q&A questions and catching the raised eyebrow, to hearing the recruiter say my name and smile — before round one was even over.
Instead of trying to bulldoze your way into a fast-talking debates, read the room. Listen actively. Then find the opening no one else is using — and say something that moves the group forward. That’s what the assessors are watching for.
Being an introvert is you edge.
The process IS built for you, when you know how to apply yourself to it.
You don’t need to be LOUDER.
You need to be clearer.
Remember. Crew aren’t chosen for their noise. They’re chosen for their timing, their tone, and their ability to adapt. Those are skills that do play to our strengths.
While screening social feeds this week, I stumbled on a post that read less like career advice and more like a cabin full of nervous passengers second-guessing the crew. Here it is:
“Should I make my CV ATS friendly cuz the first one wasn’t but I still pass somehow haha I’m really confused”
Ground School
Don't fix yourself into failure
I can relate to the confusion here. I’m totally scratching my head.
Let me repeat that question in simpler terms. Should I make my CV ATS-friendly? My first one wasn’t, but I still passed somehow.
In other words, the OP is asking should I tinker with a victory just to tick a box nobody asked for?
This is what happens when Old Wives’ tales start drowning out evidence of actual success.
Even when you’re already succeeding, the endless tide of online advice leans in and whispers: “No, no, no! you’re doing it all wrong!” Suddenly you’re panicking. Suddenly you’re tinkering and tweaking in a desperate attempt to avoid…what? Success?
Now, I want to point out the positives here. The poster is crosschecking and that’s great. The problem is, the chain of command is broken.
This post reads like a cabin safety drill gone wrong. It’s like asking your senior crew member to crosscheck your door, them giving you the thumbs up, then you go to the nervous sweating passenger in 32A and ask them, “Hey, can you crosscheck my door?” The answer is obvious: they’re going to panic. You’re going to panic. And the door’s still fine.
In airline recruitment, the applicant pool is full of sweating, nervous passengers, all gripping the armrests, eyes darting to the exits, convinced that the slightest mistake will send them tumbling from the cabin. They’re reading every “tip” and “rule” like its truth, panicking over checklists, all while the flight (your career) could take off perfectly fine without them ever touching the controls.
The truth is hiding in plain sight. Look at the post. Look at the results. Non-ATS-engineered CVs are passing with substance, relevance, and clarity. Substance beats buzzwords.
This over-engineering problem isn’t isolated to applications or ATS. It happens across the entire process — application photos, swimming regulations, grooming, group tasks, answering questions, scar declarations, teeth. (I’ll be writing about these, check my blog)
Everywhere you turn, there’s a myth masquerading as a rule, but tips and tricks are not rules. Myths destroy confidence and they kill dreams. Don’t fix yourself into failure.
After my final Emirates interview — whilst sitting and stewing in that purgatory stretch between “we’ll be in touch” and that mythical Golden Call — the recruiter decided my application photos weren’t up to standard:
Not once.
Not twice.
Se7en times.
7
Over several weeks, I wrestled with grooming, swapped out backdrops, fiddled endlessly with lamps and shadows. I dabbed on tanning lotion, plastered thicker foundation, even taught myself Photoshop because I refused to send in ugly photos.
But still, each time the recruiter lobbed the photos back with: try again.
By the time the recruiter finally sighed and shipped my file off to Dubai, I had developed a permanent twitch at the sight of a camera. Why? Because I missed the point of them entirely.
What is the point of application photos? I asked around.
The Poll
I recently ran five of my application photos through an online poll.
The question:
Which of these application photos got rejected — and why?
Go ahead — take a look. But before you scroll further down the page, click to enlarge the photos, pause, study them, make a snap judgement. I promise not to be offended. Let’s see how your instincts measure up.
Ground School
The poll results
Here are the applicant poll results, ranked by how often they were mentioned:
Ungroomed hair and no red lipstick (these came up in nearly every comment).
Posture.
Buttons not fastened.
Smiling too much.
Shirt too blue.
Collars too big.
The portfolio under your arm.
Do you see the pattern? Aside from the smear on the photograph (not a portfolio) Those comments are all appearance related. And it makes sense, we all have the same fears, after all. Except, only three of those showed up in recruiter rejection notes, and not necessarily in the way you’d expect.
Let’s step back and see what the recruiter had to say.
CrewCrosscheck
CrewCrosscheck
Recruiter Feedback
CrewCrosscheck
CrewCrosscheck
PHOTO NUMBER ONE
Click to reveal answers
“Please stand up straight, square to the camera.”
“Please tie your hair back.“
“That’s not a white backdrop, that’s a bed sheet.”
PHOTO NUMBER TWO
Click to reveal answers
“No digitally doctored photos.“
“This is blurry.“
“Is that a smudge or a portfolio?Please fix.”
“Please tie your hair completely back.”
PHOTO NUMBER THREE
Click to reveal answers
“No digitally doctored photos.”
“Please face the camera.”
“Please pin back your fringe also.”
PHOTO NUMBER FOUR
Click to reveal answers
“How about getting some professional photos?”
“Please keep you face straight on with the camera.”
PHOTO NUMBER SEVEN
Click to reveal answers
This photo was accepted.
I missed the whole point of the photos
So, what’s the deal? Am I really that hopeless at following directions? Not exactly… but also yes.
Here’s what happened: I assumed airline photo requests were beauty contests in disguise. Just like the applicants in the poll, I too focused in on my appearance. Every choice I made was filtered through that skewed lens of “must look attractive or else.” So I staged. I tweaked. I manipulated.
I started out fairly natural in Photo One, even a little comfortable. But the moment the recruiter asked for straighter posture, clearer face shots — the more exposed I felt and the more I twisted myself out of shape.
I stretched my body, puffed up my hair, stretched my face so it looked less round. At one point I even Frankensteined stock models onto my own face and body.
Case in point:
Not my bodyNot really my face or my body
If we simplify the recruiter’s feedback, here’s the difference in thinking:
Recruiter
Me
Straighter and clearer
Must be pretty
Straighter and clearer
Okay, a fringe will be fine
Straighter and clearer
Oh no, now my face looks round, stretch it
Straighter and clearer
More makeup, more angle
Straighter and clearer
Ugh, no way.
Straighter and clearer
Oh, what’s this? Photoshop, I’ll just swap my face
Yes, those will do
Ah, subtle manipulations, bingo
Did you notice, the recruiter didn’t make a single comment about my makeup — not even the sacred red lipstick? That’s because the photos are not beauty assessments.
Ground School
What is the point of application photos?
Remember:
This is aviation.
A serious industry prone to terrorism, drug smuggling, human trafficking. An industry which prioritises safety and security above all else.
Heck, those are your top priorities for cabin crew.
Your interview photos are to recruitment what your passport is to international travel.
We’ve all heard the numbers: 150,000, 300,000 applicants in a single round.
Now imagine if photos weren’t required. What’s to stop someone sending in their charismatic and photogenic best mate to smash the interview, then swapping places before training? HR and trainers would be none the wiser.
Photos are the checkpoint. They prove the person applying is the same one who gets hired, cleared, and granted airside access.
Skip those checks, and it’s the hiring equivalent of letting passengers board without a passport.
Never ever forget or lose sight that this is aviation, a serious industry prone to terrorism, drug smuggling, human trafficking.
Ground School
Notice the correlation
Still not convinced…
Notice how my posture straightens up with each photo. By the final photo, I’m poker straight like a Buckingham Palace foot guard on patrol.
Why is that? Why is Emirates so hell-bent on the placement of my foot and the tilt of my chin?
Let me ask you this. When you have your passport photo taken, do you have a tilt in your chin? Maybe an over the shoulder sideways glance? A bit of a wink or a pout? No, of course not. Why is that? Because the photo is used for identification. But it’s more than that. That photo will be scanned and cross-referenced by FBI, USCIS, CAA, HMRC, and a whole host of other interested parties. If it ever comes to that.
Submit one color photo taken in the last 6 months.
Use a clear image of your face.
Do not change your photo using computer software, phone apps or filters, or artificial intelligence.
Directly face the camera without tilting your head.
Take off your eyeglasses for your photo.
Use a white or off-white background without shadows, texture, or lines.
Do those sound in any way familiar to Emirates? Damn right they do.
Ground School
Meet My Digital Applicants
Over the past few years, I’ve submitted more than fifty airline applications as a live stress test for recruitment systems, deliberately probing weak spots and points of failure. Long before AI could conjure convincing humans, I was experimenting with digitally generated avatars to stand in for me. Meet Joelle and Tyrone and Cane:
As you can see, these avatars are nowhere near human, and anyone looking at them would spot the fakery in a heartbeat (If not that, Canes pink-eye might have gotten a stink-eye). That was the point: to see how far a clearly artificial applicant could travel through a recruitment pipeline before the system — or a human — finally called it out.
And do you know how many of my digital applicants were stopped at the very first stage? Not a single one. Of course, every airline has its own systems, so this isn’t a trick to copy — but it proves something worth knowing: the photos you upload at the start carry far less weight than most people fear. It’s not about golden proportions or the latest beauty myth making the rounds; the early screening is about process, not perfection. Too many assumptions are made about looks and “ideal” appearance, and most of them are wildly out of proportion to the reality.
Remember. What you think is right is not always accurate. What sounds logical and reasonable is not always true. And where there’s fear, theirs a myth to prey on that fear.
This morning I fell down a rabbit hole — a thread where someone asked:
“Is flight attendant school a scam?”
The top reply? “They are useless af.” And, truth be told, I used to nod right along with that because airlines train you once you’re hired, don’t they? So why bother with pre-training before the training? That was my smug logic. Until I remembered the bit nobody tells you…
…airlines only train you if you make it through the hiring gauntlet.
And that gauntlet chews up 98% of hopefuls and spits them right back out.
If you’re a school-leaver, never having held responsibilities beyond remembering your PE kit, a cabin crew course can provide a tidy jet-bridge, transitioning you between the classroom and into the cabin.
It gives you a taste of responsibility, a sense of what the job really demands, and stories you can carry into the interview room to prove you’re more than “just out of school.”
So maybe the sharper question isn’t “Are they a scam?” but “Can they help me get hired?”
If you’re expecting some college programme to fairy-godmother you straight into a uniform… well, yes, sometimes that actually happens.
I sat on a call with one college whose ties to two big-name airlines were so strong, recruiters were plucking students straight out of class mid-semester.
Some schools build pipelines so irresistible recruiters circle them like jets in a holding pattern. And why? Because they churn out candidates who already “get it.”
Not useless. Not magic. But when the odds are 98-to-2 against you, even a slight edge can make all the difference.
They give you: the mindset, the awareness… and most importantly, the stories.
Ground School
Recruiters search for proof
At interview, recruiters aren’t flicking through your certificates like they’re shopping for wallpaper samples. They’re hunting for evidence. Proof you can shoulder responsibility. Keep your head when things go sideways. Communicate under pressure without crumbling.
That’s where the right kind of training pays off.
Consider these two responses:
Example 1 — Evidence:
“Having never been responsible for others’ safety, I wanted to be sure I could handle it, so I enrolled in a cabin crew course.
One of the things that surprised me most was how, even in a controlled simulation, my body reacted as though it were a real emergency.
My heart raced, my breathing quickened, and I had to actively apply techniques I’d learnt through weekly meditation just to stay calm.
When we exited the smoke-filled cabin in full kit, I came out exhausted, but clear on two things: how the body reacts under stress, and how crucial self-control and clear commands are in a crisis.“
That isn’t “useless af”. That’s proof.
Proof of self-awareness.
Proof you tested yourself.
Proof you are proactive and take the role seriously.
Example 2 — Speculation:
“You know, I’ve never had the opportunity to respond in a real crisis, but I do know I work well under pressure and tend to remain calm. For the past ten years I’ve been practising meditation, and that discipline has given me a practical toolkit for staying composed in high-stress situations.”
Only one of those answers demonstrates behaviour. The other just hopes for it.
Courses are just tools. Used well, they give you structured practice, feedback from people who speak fluent “airline,” and real-world examples you can smuggle straight into your interview. Used badly? They’re just another bullet point on a CV nobody reads.
There are no useless experiences.
At Crew Crosscheck, we teach you how to bridge the gap between classroom and cabin, how to flip “I did a course” into evidence of competence.
