Trust me, I've Been There

Guardian newspaper columnist Zoe Williams on the joys of working at Christmas

IT IS TAKEN AS A GIVEN THAT NOBODY wants to work over the yule period, because everybody wants to be with their families. However, this theory is never tested, because all the establishments in which you might see a person working – at the supermarket or, if you prefer, the opera – are closed. Christmas travel, especially, is mainly the inside of a car, with your fella sitting next to you, sighing.

Flying, of course, is the exception. Because planes are larger than trains… no, wait, that’s not right. Because planes have a more modern outlook than trains and buses, commemorating the birth of Christ is deemed an insufficiently good reason to disrupt all the services. And there is nothing, nope, not an open-topped tourist-bus, not even a Wurlitzer, that is more fun than getting on an aeroplane on Christmas Eve.

As soon as you step into the airport, you notice that everyone is smiling at one another. This goes beyond the regular “Must remember to smile; have smiling on my to-do list” smile, often into the territory of genuine friendliness and/or affection. Sure, sure, it’s Christmas: if people don’t smile, they will get ceaseless “Cheer up, love, it’s Christmas” remarks, and then they’ll have to laugh, which is much more effort than smiling. But I see something deeper in the gesture, some meaningful gratitude in the glint of every tooth, something along the lines of: “I love you, stranger. I love you because you are not my weird cousin. Here, have a Quality Street.”

It is self-generating as well – I can’t help but notice. They smile, I smile back; they move into a grin, perhaps I start to laugh at the incongruity of all this enthusiasm; soon they are laughing. One smile over the Christmas period can lead to a whole departure gate falling about. And why not? You’ll be drunk in a minute anyway, so you may as well start acting like it.

The good cheer accelerates as you board your aircraft, then when you take off it, er, takes off. I went to Cape Town at Christmas in 2004 and people were literally cheering the pilot for getting us into the sky. I mean, don’t get me wrong, it beats singing O Little Town of Bethlehem, but if you’re excited that he knows how to take off, what on earth possessed you to get on this vehicle in the first place?

We ate turkey and it seemed curiously delicious. We drank drinks. We communed with our fellow passengers, but we definitely weren’t enjoying ourselves as much as the hosties, who were practically hoola-ing about the place.

It’s all a lie, in other words: people love working at Christmas. Even if you have nowhere to go, you should fly just to see the excitement. Or I guess you could always go to A&E. That’s the only other place I can think of where they work all-year round. I can’t, I’m afraid, vouch for their party spirit.

ILLUSTRATION: TOM PERCIVAL / ADVOCATE ART