Free the Cavan One: My petty battle with Ryanair

Cavanman's Diary

Those who defend Ryanair’s business model tend to lean heavily on the notion that, well, you know the terms and conditions before you sign up and, if you break them, it’s on you. If you’re not happy with how they operate, the theory goes, you don’t have to book with Ryanair.

And you know what? They’re right. I agree with all of that, even though, in common with many, I have been on the wrong side of it on a few occasions. Most people have their own Ryanair horror stories to tell and they recount them against themselves, wryly. The general sense I’ve detected is that people are willing to put up with their ‘gotcha’ approach to their customers because, at the back of it all, Ryanair are cheaper and have more routes than other airlines.

An example. Years ago, I and three others boarded a train in Cardiff, having been informed by a staff member at the station that it would stop at Bristol. It didn’t; all we saw of Bristol was the signpost as we trundled past. The first stop was an hour away, in Swindon.

We jumped in a taxi – I think it cost £100 – and legged it to Bristol airport, where we got through security – shoes off, pockets emptied, pat-downs and all that palaver – and sprinted to the boarding gate. One of the quartet – a footballer at the time –won the race. He boarded; I got the silver medal, 30 seconds slower, and wasn’t allowed on. I met the other two as I was traipsing back - a pathetic, beaten man, jumper stuck to my back - to the desk to book a new ticket for later that night.

Anyway, we tell that story now with a bitter laugh and the truth is, we were at fault. The rules were clear – be at the gate, ready to go, by a set time. If you’re not there, you can’t catch the flight. End of story.

As it happened, that plane remained on the runway for another hour. The gold medallist amongst us was texting updates as we sat on those steel airport seats, counting down the hours. But, the reality was, we had no-one to blame – we were late.

What truly irritates me about Ryanair, however, is the sheer discourtesy of some of their staff. Manners costs nothing and don’t affect the business model; there is no excuse for downright rudeness.

A few weeks back, I flew to Valencia on a Friday evening. I was one of the last people to board the flight and I had a feeling that I was going to be pulled out of the queue randomly and my carry-on baggage inspected for size.

Sure enough, I was. “Go over there,” the staff member barked. Grand – if that’s how she spoke to people, I thought, let her at it.

Now, the bag I was bringing on the flight was marginally – and I mean, an inch or two – over the size limit. That was annoying; I had already paid €100 (return) for a check-in bag and there was space in that one but I hadn’t considered that this small carry-on bag would be too big. But, again, it was my mistake.

What bugged me most, though, was the attitude. It felt like the attendant, the one who issued the order to move, was revelling in catching me out. Then again, that’s subjective, too.

The second Ryanair staff member asked me for my bank card and, in a flash, handed it back. I asked what the fee was and was told €60; I then asked was she going to take it from my card; she said she already had. I don’t know how when I didn’t put in my PIN but no answers were forthcoming.

By now, everyone else had boarded. I asked, not unreasonably I felt, for a receipt and I could tell there was a problem. The staff member, who appeared more junior to the Commander-In-Chief, began to animatedly press buttons; I presumed there was something wrong with the printer, maybe. They seemed to be in a hurry at this stage to move me along.

Enter, stage left, the first woman again. “You can board now,” she said abruptly.

“I’m waiting for a receipt,” I said.

Full disclosure – of course, I was being more than a bit obdurate myself at this stage. Hands up.

But she was ready for me.

“It will be emailed to you,” she snapped.

“When?”

“When the ticket desk feel like it.”

I’ll admit now, I was mad at this point. It’s the frustration of it; in normal life, you wouldn’t let people talk to you that way but you’re powerless here. Later, as always happens, I thought of some brilliantly biting lines, stone-cold classics in my own head, which would have won me the argument and allowed me live out the remainder of my days secure in the knowledge that I was one of the few to stick it to the man, to get one over on these unmannerly automatons.

Anyway, I got on the flight and all went well (it landed safely in Spain). Coming home, there were no issues (bar a lengthy delay). I just divvied out the stuff a bit more evenly between both cases, casually donned two jumpers, a hoodie and a coat and was spared another dead-eyed interaction.

The week went on and no receipt arrived. Life is too short, of course, to get annoyed by these things. I know this – but I got annoyed anyway. So, a few days after I came home, I emailed Ryanair asking about my receipt.

“When I asked when I would get this receipt as I am legally entitled to it, she said ‘when the ticket desk feels like it’,” I wailed.

“Five days have passed and the ticket desk must not have felt like it.”

It was then that things got (mildly) interesting. The first reply began, “Dear Customer, Thanks for getting in touch. We note that you are disputing a baggage fee and commenting on staff.”

Of course, this was a classic strawman. I clearly wasn’t disputing the baggage fee at all. I was complaining that they were pedantic enough to nail me for over-sized luggage but ignored the law in regard to issuing a receipt.

“Ryanair sets high standards,” they wrote. I snorted.

“We’re sorry,” came the response in relation to the carry-on of their staff member, “you feel this was not reflected in your recent experience. We have forwarded your comments about our staff to the relevant departmental manager for review.”

Never one to rise above the fray, to show more class than my foe, I doubled down in my reply, breathlessly informing the representative of this billion-euro business that I would write bad things about them in The Anglo-Celt if they didn’t send me my receipt. I told them my name again and the name of the newspaper.

Now, for some reason, my wife’s name is listed on my Ryanair account. The reply, from a Daniel G, called me by her name, which was strange given I’d signed the previous message. I’ll level with you: this put me mad altogether.

This message stated they were sorry I was unhappy with my experience and listed the baggage policy again, which was about as relevant to my complaint as the 1864 Geneva Convention is to the price of sheep. Still, no mention of my receipt, which is all I was asking for. Oh Danny boy, I thought, the summer’s gone and my hopes for this useless piece of paper and its list of numbers are dying...

At that, I had a moment of clarity. I pledged to leave it at that, to be the adult in the room, to accept that arguing with what is likely a bot is not a wise use of my time.

The truce lasted about five minutes. The fog descended again. With little to be at, I jumped back in.

“I am entitled to a receipt for the €60 payment I made! Your member of staff told me it would be emailed. I need this receipt. When will I receive it?” I asked, playing hardball now, fair play to me.

Back came Danny G.

“Whilst we empathize (sic) with your view, we regret that our position as set out in our previous e-mail remains unaltered,” Mr G wrote. Of course, this was diversion – they hadn’t yet addressed in any way my actual complaint.

And on it went. Ryanair would email back – “We understand that this matter remains of concern to you, and we truly regret that our response may not have provided the clarity you were hoping for” was one classic - and I would reply saying I just want the receipt I asked for and am entitled to.

At the time of going to print, I have received no further response. I’ve done my research; I sought legal advice (texted a solicitor friend) and he tells me I am legally entitled to a receipt (sent back a thumbs-up emoji).

So, the questions that remain now, to my mind, are as follows: Will I ever receive my receipt? Should I let this drop? Who is worse at this point, Danny G or Paul F?

More on the plight of the Cavan One next week...