‘Barely surviving’: Some flight attendants are facing homelessness and hunger

Kay had already worked a full day when Frontier Airlines called her to pick up a shift. The recently hired flight attendant had been awake since 4 a.m. driving Lyft, one of the few side gigs she could manage with her unpredictable schedule.

Her new career was off to a rough start. There were three-and-a-half weeks of unpaid training. Her first few paychecks were lower than she’d anticipated. She gave up her apartment in Atlanta, where median rent is about $1,500, and had been renting a room from a friend.

The only way to make ends meet, she said, was to juggle all the gig work she could find: Instacart shopping, pet sitting, Lyft driving. The ride-share company was offering a $500 bonus for completing 120 rides in four days. With her projected pay of $23,000 a year before taxes and insurance, chasing the extra money felt necessary.

So after working for Frontier from 3 p.m. to 10 p.m., Kay turned back to Lyft. By the time she reached the bonus, she’d gone nearly 24 hours without sleep.

New flight attendants like Kay learn that although their work has been deemed “essential” to the transportation infrastructure, it’s hard to stay afloat. A complicated pay structure that prioritizes hours in the air and entry-level wages that are on par with service industry jobs makes it difficult for many to turn the job into a career.

“I have to supplement my income. But then I’m also not sleeping,” said Kay, who spoke on the condition that she be identified only by the name she uses outside of work, because she fears retaliation from her employer. “We’re expected to save people on the plane … and we’re not getting paid a living wage.”

Kay is not alone. Most new flight attendants work “on reserve,” spending days waiting to be assigned flights. It’s common for them to take side jobs - bartenders, semi-truck drivers, makeup artists, church musicians. Some say they are struggling to feed their families and are living out of their cars.

In interviews with 18 current or former flight attendants, workers recounted dire financial situations, assault on the job from unruly passengers and mental health crises. They shared similar stories: Paychecks much smaller than expected. Quickly falling behind on bills. Spiraling into debt.

For decades, Hollywood and media have glamorized flight attendants for a fast-paced, globe-trotting lifestyle. In reality, their story mirrors the income inequality in other global industries that rely on blue-collar workers. Last year, homelessness in America was at a record high and appears to be worsening.

The industry may be at a turning point. This summer, flight attendant unions have made progress in years-long battles with airlines over better wages and retirement benefits, among other issues. Tentative labor agreements have reached the bargaining table but not been voted through by union members. Threats to strike keep coming, even if an actual stoppage has to be approved by federal mediators.

America’s largest flight attendants union, the Association of Flight Attendants-CWA (AFA), said in a recent news release that many members working with Alaska Airlines have reported financial insecurity, including some that have “experienced homelessness, lived in their car, lived in a shelter, or endured some combination of these circumstances.”

An employment verification letter from American Airlines showing a projected starting pay of $27,315 per year recently went viral, with some calling it a “poverty verification” letter that could be used to apply for government assistance programs like food stamps. American confirmed the letter reflects the current base rate for first-year flight attendants on reserve, without premiums or incentives.

“As a passenger, you don’t really see those things,” said Rebecca Owens, a flight attendant with Alaska Airlines. “You see the smiling, happy flight attendants that are doing anything to survive but still bringing their best selves to work. It’s a lot to really comprehend.”

Real pay starts just before takeoff

While Alaska and American may be the most recent airlines to make headlines, “it’s the same story across probably every single airline right now,” said Julie Hedrick, who has been a flight attendant for 42 years and serves as the national president for the Association of Professional Flight Attendants (APFA), which represents American Airlines employees.

According to Bureau of Labor Statistics data, the median pay for flight attendants was $68,370 in 2023. However, the projected yearly pay for first-year flight attendants is much lower than the median, according to numbers provided by the AFA: roughly $23,000 at Frontier, $25,000 at Alaska, $27,000 at American and $32,000 at Delta Air Lines.

Delta says that figure is closer to $34,500 when factoring in boarding pay and profit-sharing.

“Delta’s philosophy is to care for our people through industry-leading pay and programs that provide emergency savings support, financial literacy, and holistic wellness,” spokesman Anthony Black said in an email.

Alaska Airlines confirmed the base pay figure for flight attendants, before premiums and other pay factors.

“Like all employees who work on a non-salaried basis, how much a flight attendant makes in a year depends largely on how much they work,” the airline said in a statement. “It’s important to note that our flight attendants have significant control over their workload because there is no contractual minimum (or maximum) of required work.”

New flight attendants who start out “on reserve” are usually guaranteed around 75 flight hours per month. Even if they are not scheduled for enough flights to hit those hours, they’re still paid for that minimum. Hourly raises typically come twice a year until workers reach a “top rate,” usually around 12 years of service.

“Being a flight attendant is great if you get up to 12 years and beyond,” said Beth, a Delta flight attendant who spoke on the condition that she be identified only by her middle name, because she feared retaliation from her employer. “But when you first start out, you’re just barely surviving.”

On paper, airlines promise flight attendants double-digit hourly rates. Kay looked forward to making $25.50 an hour, more than three times the federal minimum wage of $7.25.

But the actual take-home pay is not so simple. Time outside of flying hours - the time spent at the airport, boarding and deplaning - is either unpaid, or paid at a fraction of the hourly rate.

Delta is an outlier, paying half of the hourly flying rate for boarding, with some caveats; the airline is the only U.S.-based mainline carrier where flight attendants are not represented by a union.

For those at other carriers, “it’s pretty common to work six hours of flight time, … but you’re actually working for 12 to 14 hours,” said Rich Henderson, a flight attendant of more than a decade who runs the Two Guys on a Plane meme account with his husband. “We have a lot of time at work we don’t get paid.”

The system is legal; flight attendants and other aviation workers are exempt from the Fair Labor Standards Act because their job is essential to the economy. Hedrick says the practice started a long time ago. When flight attendants came into unions, “we just started getting paid the same way as pilots did,” she said.

Sara Nelson, the president of AFA, said unpaid boarding is “something that we’re fighting to end.” It’s one of many issues tangled in years-long contract negotiations.

“With this long, lengthy delay in getting these contracts done, our wages have fallen so far behind the rest of the country and world,” Hedrick said, pointing out the contract for American Airlines flight attendants was negotiated in 2014.

Airlines for America, a trade group representing major carriers, declined an interview request, but sent a written statement that described its workforce as “the backbone of the industry and our greatest asset.”

“U.S. passenger and cargo airlines employ more than 800,000 workers - the largest workforce in more than 20 years - who are earning the highest wages and most generous benefits in the history of our industry,” said the statement, which did not distinguish between airline jobs.

Struggling to make rent

Multiple flight attendants said despite the pay, they’re reluctant to leave the profession.

Part of it is the sunk-cost fallacy; they’ve already suffered through unpaid training and logged hours toward seniority. But most reiterated that they’re still attached to the job.

Kay, the Frontier flight attendant, said a love of travel and the promise of flexibility attracted her to the work. She wants to get a job with Delta, the highest paying commercial airline, but has been rejected twice after making it to the interview process.

She’s clinging to the hope that if she hangs on, she’ll find a better employer and gradually better pay, but “you have to go through the rough patch,” she says.

Nas Lewis, who has been a flight attendant for a decade, runs the nonprofit th|AIR|apy to address flight attendant mental health. She remembers her first paycheck was $250.

“You have rent, you have car payments, you have children, you have to feed yourself, you have to get to work,” she said. “I was struggling to the point where I was dealing with suicidal ideations and started to drink a lot just to tune everything out and have a moment of escape.”

Therapy eventually helped lift Lewis out of despair. Sharing her feelings on Facebook with other flight attendants was a powerful first step. Her peers confided that they were in similar situations.

“It made me feel so much better because I thought this whole time I’ve been alone,” Lewis said.

In her 16 years with Alaska Airlines, Thresia Raynor heard similar stories from her peers.

Most flight attendants must first attend training for about three to six weeks, often unpaid. Once they officially start the job, making around $1,800 a month, it’s easy to fall behind on bills, she said. “Then it snowballs.”

Flight attendants may start the job feeling financially secure, but a year or two later, Raynor said, “they’ve burned through everything that they had, now they’ve racked up credit card debt and loans from friends and family.”

Raynor has met flight attendants who say they’ve eaten leftover food from passengers’ in-flight meals. She’s arranged mobile food pantries to help feed flight attendants in Anchorage.

Believing more flight attendants must be experiencing the same hardships, she and a few colleagues created the Facebook group “Alaska Airlines FA’s experiencing hunger and homelessness” last September.

“People would come to work and hide the fact that they didn’t have anything to eat, or even a dollar to pay the crew van when they got to their layover,” Raynor said. “I wanted to remove the shame so that we could all openly talk about it … and be able to help each other.”

The group grew with both flight attendants in need, and those in the position to help. People shared stories of living out of their cars, using YMCAs and gyms to shower. Members have rallied to help move colleagues facing domestic abuse, or buy car seats for their children, or cover a meal at the airport.

“A beautiful side of our work group is [flight attendants] will give even what they don’t have ... to take care of each other, which is pretty inspiring, but it’s also really sad,” said Owens, who helped start the Facebook group.

Stacked in bunk beds ‘like sardines’

Some flight attendants choose to be nomads, giving up apartments for “van life.” Some move in with family members to save on rent, or rely heavily on crowded “crash pads” - shared group housing where people rotate in and out on a temporary basis.

Even working for Delta, Beth said she’s struggled to balance her financial life and mental health in expensive hub cities.

She lives in a rent-controlled building for $1,800 per month. The location allows her to be close to her father, who has cancer, but she commutes to a hub city in another state, where she is technically based, and back around five times a month. There, she rents access to a crash pad that costs between $325 and $450 per month depending on how many nights she uses it.

Crash pads can be helpful for flight attendants who spend a lot of time on the road - or need a more affordable place than a hotel to sleep near their base airport. Some offer private rooms and cost as much as renting an apartment; others lower the price by fitting as many tenants as possible.

Beth’s crash pad looks like a cross between a budget Airbnb and a hostel.

There’s a lighted mirror near the kitchen where flight attendants can do their makeup to free up the sole bathroom. The living room’s flimsy furniture is flanked by luggage racks and name-tagged storage containers.

A whiteboard keeps track of roommate schedules. The two carpeted beige bedrooms have windows that remain closed around-the-clock and black metal bunk beds - three sets in the women’s room, where Beth stays with five other women, and two in the men’s.

“No one cleans the place. I got bites from what looks like bedbugs,” she said. “They stack us in there like sardines to make the most money.”

Little optimism for progress

Several flight attendants who spoke to The Post say they’re angry that they make less than they would working comparable hours at a fast-food restaurant, despite their extensive safety responsibilities, regular training and demanding lifestyle.

“This is a problem across the country,” Nelson said. “The basic standard and social contract that if you work full-time, you can get a living wage, health care, retirement and actually have time to spend with your families - that has been eroded in the airline industry the same as it’s been eroded everywhere else.”

The median pay for airline and commercial pilots is $171,210. Last year, Alaska’s CEO made more than $10 million. The CEOs for Delta and American each made more than $31 million.

AFA is currently bargaining with 14 carriers over flight attendant contracts. Recent negotiations have had mixed results.

In late June, Alaska Airlines and its flight attendants union secured a tentative agreement deal for a “record contract.” The agreement would have made the airline the first carrier to secure boarding pay in a legally binding contract. But three Alaska Airlines flight attendants who spoke to The Post were not convinced the deal was a real victory. Union members rejected it in August, with 68 percent voting against ratification.

Alaska Airlines declined an interview request with The Post. “We remain committed to reaching an agreement that reflects the critical role of our flight attendants and is good for Alaska’s long-term success,” the carrier said in an emailed statement. “We will assess the details available to us and reconvene with AFA to discuss next steps.”

On July 19, American Airlines and the APFA reached a tentative agreement which Hedrick said resulted in “significant benefits” for flight attendants; the agreement must still be voted on by APFA executives and its members.

American Airlines told The Post in a statement the company’s tentative agreement is “a contract that will provide immediate financial and quality-of-life improvements for American’s flight attendants. It’s a contract we’re proud of and one our flight attendants have earned.”

Frontier did not respond to multiple requests for comment.

Seniority doesn’t solve everything

Martinez, a flight attendant who has been with Alaska Airlines for 16 years, said she’s in worse financial shape than when she started. She spoke on the condition that only her last name be used, because she feared retaliation from her employer.

She became a single mother of two when she adopted her niece and nephew from the foster system. She’s been juggling untenable housing arrangements since she came up $400 short of the mortgage on her home in Washington state.

The earnings she makes renting out her home still don’t cover the mortgage and HOA fees. Martinez had to send her 9-year-old girl, who has autism, to live with her parents in northern California.

“If I didn’t have my parents, I don’t know what I would do,” she said.

For now, she’s staying on an air mattress in a friend’s studio in Los Angeles between her overnight trips. Before that, she slept in her SUV in the Los Angeles International Airport parking lot, sometimes with her teenage boy.

“It’s very frustrating and I would like to change careers,” Martinez said. “At the same time … one of the things that I love about this job is that I can have some more control over my schedule - what days I want to work, what days I don’t.”

She’s not sure what she’d do if she changed professions, particularly as a single parent. “I’m not a coder. I don’t have any technical experience,” she said.

Growing up in California, her family struggled financially. Martinez said they experienced homelessness and spent time living in a family shelter. The travel benefits she gets through her job opened up a new world for them.

“For my family especially, it was a big deal that I have gotten hired as a flight attendant,” she said.

When Martinez started her flight attendant career, she was single with no children. She flew as many shifts as she could pick up, traveling across the country to big cities.

“It was fun,” she said. “I can’t complain about that.”

As a parent, Martinez needs more income to support two children - and more time to care for them.

She has the seniority to pick up more flights, but “if I want to actually see my kids and participate in their life, I can’t work past 80 [flight hours],” she said. “Even then, that’s pushing it.”

Last December, Martinez worked 144 flight hours and brought home $4,653.80. She was gone so much that “the entire month … I did not see my kids in person,” she said.

It felt like an unsustainable solution to Martinez, much like how Kay feels about her marathon workdays.

Months after the Frontier flight attendant first spoke with The Post, she said she’s still relying on gig work to supplement her income, which may prove even more necessary if her union votes to authorize a strike.

She recently spent a morning delivering packages, then got called for a three-day trip with two hours to report to the airport. At the end of the first day of flying, she realized it had been another full day she went without sleeping.