Strategic surrender and a big win at 35,000 feet

IT’S A LONG, red-eye flight from Hong Kong to OR Tambo – 13 hours trying to outrun the rising sun – and by the time the aircraft lifts off just after midnight, most passengers have one goal: sleep. I certainly did. 

After my energetic brother-in-law had me climbing the scenic, yet draining 1,000 Discovery Bay steps earlier that morning as a last hurrah, my energy reserves were running on fumes.

As I settled into my aisle seat in the middle bank of the aircraft, a polite Chinese lady took the seat across the empty middle spot. We exchanged that unspoken thought: Who will complete the trio?

It turned out to be a pleasant, friendly young South African who clearly had plenty of travel experience. From the moment he sat down, he began comparing Cathay Pacific’s seats to those on Emirates, Delta, Lufthansa and others. He spoke about leg room, the importance of sleep, and how much he wished he had the seat in front of him because there was more space.

All this happened within three minutes of him sitting down.

He was a talker. And the thing is, he wasn’t only talking to the Chinese lady. He would begin a sentence to her and then swivel toward me to finish it, ensuring we were both engaged – whether we liked it or not. We were a captive audience, with the emphasis on “captive”.

I groaned inwardly. I was exhausted. The Discovery Bay climb had been scenic, memorable and invigorating – but that was many hours ago. Now, just after midnight, I didn’t need the chatty enthusiasm bubbling from Seat 40L.

Then something interesting happened.

The Chinese lady called the flight attendant over and spoke softly in Cantonese, pointing to the vacant seat in front. She turned to our travelling companion and said, “I asked her if it’s OK for you to move there, and she said she would find out for you.”

He melted. “Oh, that’s so sweet of you. I really appreciate you doing that!”

He continued speaking; I couldn’t hear what he was saying, but I assumed that it was about leg room and neck pillows. It went on for a few more minutes, but then she suddenly said, “Wait, get up. Go sit there now … quickly!”

“Do you think so?” he asked. “What if they move me back?”

She encouraged him. “Go, just go. It will be OK!”

He moved, settled in and then the flight attendant returned. She saw him sitting there and nodded approvingly. Apparently, permission had been granted.

I gave the lady a thumbs-up. She leaned slightly across the now-empty middle seat and giggled. “I heard another lady behind us ask for that seat too,” she whispered, “So I knew I needed to act fast.”

We settled in. And, blessedly, the rest of the flight was quiet and peaceful.

It was only after landing in South Africa that her strategic kindness revealed its full brilliance.

As passengers waited to disembark, the young man stood, turned around and thanked her again – then he launched into an explanation of the home-based business he was promoting. It was international, he said. One could work from home. Passive income. Flexible hours. Opportunity.

She accepted his business card politely, thanked him, and gathered her belongings.

I sat there thinking what that flight would have been like had he remained in the middle seat, with two prospects trapped beside him for 13 hours.

Chances are high that I may not have survived the flight.

There’s an old Chinese text, Cai Gen Tan, that says giving up a little gains a little; giving up a lot gains a lot. It speaks of strategic surrender for the sake of peace.

Somewhere over the Indian Ocean, in row 40, that wisdom played out perfectly.

I learned the lesson that sometimes – not always, but sometimes – giving someone what they want frees you from carrying their baggage.