The Vanishing Boss

Every briefing starts the same way. The supervisor beams at us like a TED Talk speaker:

“Team, how are we going to make the customer experience better today?”

We all shared ideas, be warmer, anticipate needs, and smile more. Noble answers. But once we were airborne, her own contribution to this grand vision? This is the classic playbook. Disappear into “writing the EVR” that somehow takes five hours. Stroll down to Economy for a mysterious “cabin check,” which usually means escape from actual service. Or suddenly need to “check on the captain.”. He is fine. He is flying the plane. He has just been served his double espresso.

When they do reappear, it is usually to correct the tiniest mistake. “That glass is half an inch too far left.” Then they glue themselves back to the L1 jumpseat as if it were a throne. Leadership, apparently, is best exercised from a seated position.

And here’s where it got worse: the one person meant to assist all of the premium cabin. The assist crew, our floating lifesaver, was pulled into her personal orbit. Instead of helping the galley manager juggle ovens and meals or backing up another zone drowning in requests, he became her shadow. Fetching, carrying, watching over her zone while the rest of us quietly shouldered double.

I felt bad for the galley manager. For the crew trying to plate meals while turbulence turned the cart into a rollercoaster. For anyone who needed an extra hand, but looked up only to see that “extra hand” was busy fluffing the supervisor’s pillows, metaphorically speaking.

Meanwhile, she floated around with an air of “big picture leadership.” She had the brightest smile in the aircraft, makeup that was immaculate, and a kind of charm that radiated energy. Customers loved it. They complimented her for her enthusiasm and positivity, while the rest of us looked like raccoons who had been awake since the last timezone. She sparkled, we sweated. She glowed, we burned through not only calories but patience and energy reserves, too.

The big picture we saw was not her charm. It was uneven workloads, stretched patience, and one assistant too tied up to actually assist.

And here is the irony. When the person with stripes does not pull weight, it is not just about fairness. It blocks support from reaching where it is needed most. It is one thing to vanish. It is another to drag resources with you while vanishing.

But crew adapt. We always do. Zones got served. Meals got plated. Passengers smiled, none the wiser. The machine worked, not because leadership was present, but because teamwork was.

All of us know what is happening. We do not blame the assist crew for not assisting, because everyone can see they are being used. Their role is abused, but they cannot say no. And most of us will not talk back either, because the last thing anyone wants at thirty eight thousand feet is a crew conflict. So we keep quiet. We take a deep breath. We do as much as we can to keep the customers happy.

And most often, they are very happy. They leave the aircraft telling us how wonderful the service was, complimenting the supervisor for her energy and charm, while we are wiping the sweat off our raccoon eyes. And when she later asks, “See? We made the experience better, didn’t we?” we nod. Because the truth is, we did. Just not for the reasons she thinks.

Psychologically, what struck me most was how leadership can become more about image than action. The supervisor’s bright smile, immaculate presentation, and constant energy were genuine assets. Passengers saw her and felt reassured, inspired, even cared for. From their perspective, she was the perfect leader. From ours, inside the galley, it was harder to ignore the gaps.

And that is the paradox. In psychology, perception often matters as much as reality. Leaders who project confidence and positivity create an atmosphere that customers respond to. But if that projection is not balanced with genuine support for the team, it can create tension behind the curtain. The energy that lifts the customer experience can, at the same time, quietly drain the crew.

The deeper lesson here is not that one approach is right and the other wrong. It is about balance. Leadership is not just about being seen. It is also about knowing when to step in, when to carry weight, and when to allow your team to breathe. A leader who can combine visible positivity with invisible support creates harmony both for the customer and for the people working beside them.

Until then, we adapt. We cover each other. We survive with humor and resilience. And perhaps that is the hidden truth about teamwork at thirty-eight thousand feet.

Even when leadership leans too much on image, the human instinct to cooperate keeps the flight moving forward. At the end of the day, the seatbelts were counted, the espresso was served, and the passengers left happy. But the real leaders? They were the ones still sweating in raccoon eyes, not smiling from the jumpseat throne.