Loyalty isn’t dead—at least not for these road warriors with top-tier, hush-hush status
4 min
Bonnie Crawford was in danger of missing a connecting flight to Toronto for a board meeting last week when a United Airlines customer-service representative saved the day. She got rebooked on a pricey nonstop flight on Air Canada in business class. For free.
You’re probably thinking, “No airline ever does that for me.” Crawford isn’t just any frequent flier. The chief customer officer for a software company and Portland, Ore., resident has United’s invitation-only Global Services status.
It’s a semi-secret, status-on-steroids level that big spenders strive for every year. American and Delta have souped-up statuses, too, with similarly haughty names: ConciergeKey and Delta 360°. The airlines don’t like to talk about what it takes to snag an invite, how many people have such status or even the perks. Even the high rollers themselves don’t know for sure.
Get into these exclusive clubs and you get customer service on speed dial, flight rebooking before you even know there’s trouble, lounge access and priority for upgrades. Not to mention bragging rights and swag. People even post unboxing videos of their invites on YouTube.
Anyone with this super status needn’t fret about the value of airline loyalty or the devaluation of frequent-flier points.
Crawford was invited to Global Services for 2017 and was hooked. “It was the first taste of this magic, elusive, absolutely incredible status,’’ she says. She wasn’t invited again until this year and fears she won’t be invited back next year due to fewer costly international flights in her new job.
Airlines don’t publish qualifications for Global Services, Delta 360° or ConciergeKey. That doesn’t stop road warriors from speculating in online forums about the required spending levels ($50,000-plus a year is mentioned a lot) and travel patterns (lots of high-cost international flights in premium cabins on the airline, not partner carriers).
Complicating matters: Some airlines bestow the status as part of a corporate contract, with companies allowed to pick their nominees.
Scott Chandler , senior vice president of revenue management and loyalty at American Airlines , won’t divulge any metrics. He says American devotes a significant amount of time and resources to its coveted ConciergeKey program because the travelers are the airline’s most valuable. Delta and United declined interview requests and didn’t share any info beyond statements about the programs’ exclusivity.
Chandler says fliers can reach ConciergeKey status through a combination of spending on American flights, shopping portals and credit cards. How much? He wouldn’t spill or confirm the $50,000 guesstimates. He says the makeup of the membership is broader than most people think.
“They’re basically interacting with American on a daily basis, not just when they’re flying,’’ he says.
Steve Giordano of Cherry Hill, N.J., is a managing director of a flight test and aircraft delivery company that shuttles pilots to or from assignments around the globe. The company spends up to $2.5 million on airfare every year, and he has been ConciergeKey for several years. He remembers once when the dedicated customer-service desk alerted him to a cancellation in Dublin before the flight’s pilots even knew. (He was friends with the pilot.)
In April, the airline told him he didn’t qualify for this year. He says he wasn’t too disappointed because he flies United more and has Global Services status. Giordano says he noticed ConciergeKey service slipping. On a vacation to Colombia earlier this year, he says the dedicated customer-service line and a gate agent were no help getting him home after a series of flight issues. He complained and received a form letter back. A spokeswoman says the airline sees higher satisfaction scores from ConciergeKey members than any other customer group.
In May, the airline sent him an email renewing his status after all. American is suffering through a self-induced business travel slump and working to woo back travellers .
Giordano has also taken advantage of chauffeured drives in luxury cars to the gate during a tight connection. In Houston, United escorted him and his business partner down the stairs to the tarmac and drove them in a Jaguar to their next plane. Delta uses a Porsche , American an SUV.
“CBS Mornings” co-host Gayle King has ConciergeKey and hitched a ride like that in April and thanked the American Airlines employees who helped her in an Instagram post .
Those transfers are far from routine. Travellers with the status say the most prized perk is quick help when flight troubles of any kind arise.
A senior partner with a major consulting firm who has earned status in all three programs says a United Global Services representative called him on his way to the airport a few weeks ago after noticing that he hadn’t arrived for his flight. The cutoff time for losing his seat was approaching. They saved his seat after he confirmed he was en route.
In Charlotte, N.C., last week, as the executive was sprinting to his connecting flight, a ConciergeKey representative called the airport to make sure the gate agent knew he was coming. Boarding had ended. He got on the plane.
“That’s the stuff that makes the difference,’’ he says. “That’s the s—t that gets you home.’’
There is a limit, of course.
“They don’t hold the plane,’’ he says. “If they know you’re coming, they might not shut the door as quickly.’’
Much to his parents’ chagrin, he can’t play the super-status card to help others. And all the status in the world can’t overcome weather, air-traffic delays or missing crews.
Kim Anderson , chief executive of an online lending company, is a longtime Delta loyalist who lives in Fort Lauderdale, Fla.
Before his Delta 360° invite, Anderson had seen other travellers with the 360 bag tag on their backpacks and asked a few employees about the status over the years, but didn’t know much more. He travels a few times a month, buys extra-legroom seats or better, regularly buys a Sky Club membership and has an American Express card he uses to transfer miles to Delta. He estimates he racked up 200,000 Delta miles a year for the past few years.
Anderson was still surprised to find an invitation in his inbox a couple of years ago and says he hasn’t cracked the code.
“If I knew that, I’d put it in a bottle and sell it on Amazon ,’’ he says. He got a repeat invite this year.
Anderson says the customer service is over the top. He fired off an email complaint about rushed in-flight service in first class on a recent flight and had an answer—and bonus frequent-flier miles—before he landed.
“Those are not their trainees, I can tell you that,’’ he says.
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Randy Boyagoda’s new novel, “Lords of Serendipity,” delivers a biting satire of cheating, politics and dysfunction across modern universities.
5 min
Administrative cowardice. Rampant cheating. The soaking and scamming of undergrads and grad students. Performative wokeism. Intensifying competition for international tuition dollars from an expansive China.
These are either the latest dire headlines about American higher ed or the myriad subplots of “Lords of Serendipity,” an ambitious new novel by Randy Boyagoda. Unlike most campus fiction, its scope extends well beyond the cloister of the liberal arts classroom to whammy the entire university system, from its financial model to its function within a globalized economy. Along the way, it skewers its lightning-rod targets with a precision too sharp to be considered entirely fictional.
That its author is not only well-versed in satire, having written four other novels in the genre, but is also a professor of English at the University of Toronto and an experienced college administrator, further blurs the lines between comic fiction and brutal fact. It’s the kind of no-holds-barred book only a consummate insider would know to write—but only one who is also conveniently outside the American university system could get away with writing.
“This is someone who’s got the inside dope on what can go on at universities, especially with international students, and what kind of con games are going on,” said Margaret Atwood, a friend and fellow Torontonian.
The novel, like Boyagoda himself, is often very funny—even as the dilemmas its characters face read as tragedy. Its cast includes the bickering members of a Sri Lankan hotel cleaner’s family, insecure American freshmen, dead-end third-tier college professors and their highflying Ivy League counterparts and dispirited university functionaries. An old-fashioned Dickensian tale, it sweeps across continents and campuses, from a classic liberal-arts college to a stand-in for Harvard University to an urban technical school to the dilapidated buildings of a state-run university in Sri Lanka.
“I’m a joyful person,” Boyagoda said in an interview, though he prefers to see his outlook on academia as “hopeful” rather than optimistic. He smiles and laughs frequently. He bikes everywhere. He derives energy from his students and from his four daughters, ages 14 to 20. They help him and his American wife, Anna, also an educator, care for Boyagoda’s father, an immigrant from Sri Lanka who has dementia and lives with the family.
The germ of the novel came to Boyagoda during the pandemic, when he was serving as a vice-dean. An urban legend was circulating about a statistics grad student selling passing grades to international students. The cheating scheme itself may well have been apocryphal, but it felt tantalizingly plausible.
“As a novelist, it stayed with me,” Boyagoda said. “Who would sell grades for a stats course? Why would someone buy grades? What’s motivating them? Why wouldn’t the university be doing something about it?” What he didn’t want to do, he explained, was write “another novel about a creative writing professor and his drama with students.”
In addition to writing novels—the first of which was a finalist for Canada’s prestigious Giller Prize; he’s written eight books in total—Boyagoda teaches literature full-time. For his students next semester, kids raised in a purportedly “post-literature era,” he’s assigning three 700-page novels, he noted mischievously, books by George Eliot, Ralph Ellison and Kiran Desai.
On RateMyProfessors, students remark on Boyagoda’s heavy assignments, tough grading and distaste for cellphones, but also hail his “comedy.” When alerted to these reviews, Boyagoda laughed. “Guilty as charged,” he said.
“Randy’s one of those people in academia who is very well educated but doesn’t have an ounce of superiority about him,” said John Irving, who frequently guest lectures in Boyagoda’s classroom. “It’s amazing to see how willing students are to talk in his classrooms, how little afraid they feel of being mocked or put down—he gets complete candor out of them.”
Negotiating competing interests seems to come naturally to him. Like many college campuses, after the Oct. 7 Hamas attack on Israel, the University of Toronto was embroiled in protests, encampments and discord; part of the school’s response was to convene a working group on civil discourse. Boyagoda was put in charge, serving for two years. It’s the kind of thankless task many professors would flee from, but Boyagoda relished the prospect and thinks the group, which is ongoing, made progress.
He has since pivoted to another formidable academic concern: the waning prestige of the humanities. In July, Boyagoda became the director of the Jackman Humanities Institute and special advisor on the humanities to the dean of arts and science. This fall, he is starting a series of gatherings he calls the Dead Book Club. (Dead writers feature heavily among his favorites: St. Augustine, Dante, William Faulkner, Evelyn Waugh, Saul Bellow.)
“The goal is to encourage students to read for its own sake and have conversation for its own sake,” Boyagoda said. “The importance of the humanities will be revealed to those who participate.”
“Lords of Serendipity,” which publishes next week, reflects Boyagoda’s commitment to the pursuit of knowledge: “I’m supposed to say I learn more from my students than they do from me, but no,” Boyagoda said. “I enjoy sharing my excitement and joy about literature and ideas. There are these moments when you are teaching and you can see someone’s face change because they didn’t know something and then they did. That moment when you’re actually watch someone enlarge themselves is deeply satisfying.”
In literary circles, Boyagoda is often referred to as a Catholic novelist, a description he embraces. “A novelist willing to give shape and voice to contemporary religious experience is needed,” Boyagoda said. “I understand myself as a Catholic novelist, provided that I’m not only a Catholic novelist, I’m also a South Asian novelist and I’m a Canadian novelist. I don’t want to be captive to one label.”
His characters, he said, are subjected to what he calls “Graham Greene character situations.”
“They are trying to do good in a fallen world and realize the most they can do is less harm than someone else would do in that same role,” he explained. “They have to accept they are complicit in something that provides some good thing to others. It’s a very Graham Greene way of thinking about sacrifice.”
The campus green they inhabit is a febrile zone in which lofty ideals and cynicism regularly collide. It’s a place where a traditional holiday college celebration is now an occasion for political protest. Kids freely police one another inside and out of the classroom with social media their constant, ready weapon of choice. International students, knowing their family’s financial futures hinge on their degrees, operate in terror of failure and deportation.
Early readers of the book include Gary Shteyngart and Junot Diaz, both of whom have taught at universities and written comic novels. They each contacted Boyagoda midway through to say, in essence, “You nailed it.”
As biting as “Lords of Serendipity” can be, Boyagoda’s faith in higher education remains undaunted.
“It’s absurd that we live in societies that make the decision to take people between the ages of 18 and 22, when they are most physically capable of contributing to our nations and communities, and tell them, ‘Go away for four years, and read and learn and have conversations,’” he said. “I want students to be aware of what an incredible privilege that is.”
Corrections & Amplifications
Randy Boyagoda is a special advisor on the humanities to the dean of arts and science at the University of Toronto. An earlier version of this article incorrectly said he is a special adviser to the dean of humanities. (Corrected on Sept. 2)
