During the first year of my sabbatical in 2020, I received an urgent call from a client's wife.
Turkish Airlines was the only European carrier with night flights to the Maldives, both to and from the destination. Numerous VIPs and their families wanted to be on these flights for New Year’s. Typically, they spend Christmas at home and then arrive in the Maldives in time to properly celebrate the New Year. This meant that the flights on December 26th, 27th, 28th, and 29th were highly sought after by many high-net-worth individuals, not just from Bulgaria and Turkey, but across all of Europe. However, business class seats were limited and could never meet the demand. These families had no other flight options, and a daytime flight with their young children would be chaotic. My client needed eight seats: four adults and four children. Each child needed to sit next to an adult, otherwise, it wouldn't work. Cost was no object.
I was on a late summer vacation in September at Apolonia Resort in Gradina, celebrating my child's first birthday. Working from the beach, with nothing but the Schmetterlings interface for flight bookings, I managed to solve the problem. I secured all of them seats on one of the coveted flights, while the agencies they had contacted (I believe they had relied on Elite Travel) couldn't do it. This wasn't something that could be resolved through the airline's website or any online travel agency.
So how did I do it? I understand the intricacies of revenue management and married segments at Turkish Airlines, and I know how far I can stretch those rules. I spent a few hours each day (and an hour each night) working on it, and within a few days, I had secured the seats as requested. It wasn’t just my profound knowledge and a bit of bravery—so uncommon in this field—that made it possible. I was able to concentrate on the task and prioritize it above everything else for days (and nights). Meanwhile, my competitors' s champion would have no other choice but to relegate it as task number 9 out of 50 for the day. Sometimes, I think it’s just not fair.
And yes, it feeds my wretched superiority complex.