Customer Service Hints from an Airline Lounge

In New Zealand we’ve generally done a poor job of service. Some put it down to our fundamental egalitarianism, which makes it culturally impossible to make anyone feel special. Others suggest it’s due to the fact that since we generally pay low wages for service jobs, that inevitably creates a culture of mediocrity. Whatever the reason, New Zealand service has rarely been something to write home about, unless the letter is a polite complaint to the manager.

I was considering this the other day while waiting in my local airport lounge for a flight. Now, I am fortunate enough that, due to the not inconsiderable amount of travel I do, I get to spend more than my fair share of time in lounges. Readers who don’t have this particular privilege might think that all lounges are the same, and that all lounge staff are drilled in the art of making visitors feel special and well looked after. Nothing could be further from the truth. In fact, my general experience of lounges is pretty mediocre, a bit like a high school staffroom with slightly better wine.

Of course, Air New Zealand, like in many other areas, bucks this trend. Koru lounges, while being chronically overrun by visitor numbers thanks to the airline being opportunistic with its credit card company collaborations, are still an enclave of generally good service. But one in particular stands out.

And that’s where Claudia comes in.

Claudia runs the Christchurch lounge, and she is, without exaggeration, the warmest person I have ever encountered in a service role. She greets every traveller as if they’ve just come home for Christmas. It doesn’t matter whether you’re a harried business executive juggling phone calls and emails or a young backpacker who has lucked into a guest pass, Claudia somehow makes you feel like the most important person in the room.

There’s a particular kind of magic in what she does. She remembers names, and details of the progeny of the more regular of visitors, and always has a word of encouragement for those who look like they’ve had a long day. I’ve seen her smooth over flight delays with a joke, calm flustered parents and their scratchy kids, and even coax a grin from the sort of grumpy traveller who usually treats lounge staff like a cross between furniture and an inconvenience.

What strikes me most is that she makes no distinction between people. The Koru lounge, like all lounges, is full of hierarchies. There are the frequent flyers, who sweep in with the confidence of seasoned travellers, and the occasional visitors who hover nervously at the buffet, unsure whether they’re “allowed” to take two danishes. But in Claudia’s world, that invisible pecking order dissolves. She treats everyone with the same level of care and attention, from the CEO to the cleaner.

In doing so, she achieves something rare. She makes the lounge feel less like an impersonal waiting room and more like a community. And in an environment where most of us are rushing to get somewhere, that sense of belonging is priceless.

I often think that airlines spend countless millions on designing plush lounges, tweaking menu options, and upgrading coffee machines. But the truth is, the thing that turns a lounge from “just another waiting area” into a place you actually look forward to visiting isn’t the free pinot gris or the slightly rubbery scrambled eggs. It’s the human touch. It’s someone like Claudia who genuinely cares whether you’re comfortable, and who offers warmth without calculation or pretence.

That’s what makes her so extraordinary. She’s not following a manual or a customer service script. She’s simply being herself, and in doing so, she demonstrates the sort of service that New Zealand, as a country, has long struggled to deliver. The irony is not lost on me.

And you know the funniest thing about this? While Claudia undoubtedly displays the sort of service that New Zealand generally, and Air New Zealand in particular, aspire to, she is in fact, a true-blue Aussie. It just goes to show…