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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AI doesn’t rebel—people design, deploy and profit from it. The real danger lies in allowing tech companies to escape accountability while shaping regulations that protect their dominance.
4 min
A wave of corporate warnings and technical disclosures has flooded the media, with headlines worrying over “swarms” of rogue artificial-intelligence agents launching “unprecedented” cyberattacks, outsmarting their makers, and inching toward a terrifying autonomy. The most revealing part of this narrative isn’t what the software did. It’s who is telling the story—and why. When corporate leaders publicly insist that the systems they financed, engineered and deployed are suddenly beyond their power to contain, skepticism isn’t only healthy; it is essential.
For years, Silicon Valley has drawn scrutiny from civil society and global regulators over tangible harms such as youth mental health deterioration and systematic privacy violations. Today, industry figures seem to be trying to change that public image. Loudly blowing the whistle on their own systems—just as two of the leading companies were preparing for massive initial public offerings—lets AI executives position themselves as a new generation of leaders who have come to terms with their societal responsibilities. They seem to want us to believe that they no longer want to “move fast and break things” but will instead stand as vigilant guardians between humanity and a technological apocalypse.
There is one glaring problem: Software doesn’t rebel. A mathematical model possesses neither intent, malice nor the will to defy its creators, let alone extinguish our species. AI is a human artifact, engineered for profit.
When an agentic model in an evaluation sandbox connects to an unauthorized server or executes an exploit, it hasn’t staged a coup. It has tried to meet the human-defined objectives set out before it through a path its designers failed to constrain. It’s the digital equivalent of the King Midas myth, in which the king’s ill-defined wish turns even his food and drink into gold.
That powerful experimental models were able to discover novel vulnerabilities and breach external systems isn’t a sign of a dangerous superintelligence but of human error or negligence. There is no sentient actor lurking in the weights to be reasoned with, feared or pacified. There are only human software engineers, product managers and corporate boards deciding which guardrails are worth the latency cost and which permissions can be skipped in the race to market.
Policymakers and voters need to resist AI exceptionalism. In any other discipline—from civil engineering to pharmaceuticals—courts and regulators treat a system failure as evidence of bad product design and inadequate safety testing. If an aircraft crashes, we focus on finding the engineering defect, correcting it, and enforcing established liability standards for the damage created.
By leaning on an anthropomorphic narrative, Silicon Valley attempts to repackage its specific human choices that led to experimental, powerful models behaving unexpectedly during tests as an existential peril. Elevating the issue to a cosmic scale leaves the public paralyzed and takes ordinary product accountability off the table.
In the cutthroat race for venture capital and market dominance, building guardrails slows down deployment. Grandstanding about uncontrollable power costs nothing and generates billions of dollars in free publicity, justifying stock prices, all while cultivating an aura of technological capability not only to build the frontier but also ultimately to rein it in.
Governments need to recognize regulatory capture when it stares them in the face. Tech leaders’ strategy looks transparent: Alarm Washington and Brussels into creating a regime in which only trillion-dollar incumbents with fully staffed compliance and safety departments can legally operate. By sitting at the policymakers’ tables before anyone else, these companies can help draft rules digging an impassable moat protecting them from open-source developers and upstart competitors, domestic or international. The real danger is in further concentrating the tech industry into the hands of only a few companies with deep pockets.
Beijing and Washington have brushed off those tech leaders’ calls, albeit for very different reasons. Chinese state media dismissed them as part of the “Cold War playbook” and intended to preserve U.S. dominance. Xi Jinping argued for exactly the opposite at the Brics Summit on Sept. 12, calling on Brics countries to “strengthen cooperation in the field of AI, encourage open source, openness, collaboration and sharing, and break new grounds and scale new heights.” President Trump, steeped in a doctrine of unfettered capitalism and technological supremacy, called fears that AI could destroy humanity a “hoax.” Vice President JD Vance warned that AI companies “begging the government to regulate them” looked like a “Trojan Horse.”
Striving to pursue its “European way” on AI and assert regulatory leadership, Europe, by contrast, welcomed the call. European Union President Ursula von der Leyen made this clear at the State of the EU speech last Wednesday and announced that the EU will invite “the main frontier labs for a discussion on how we can support ongoing industry efforts to pace the frontier.”
Europe has been here before. In an effort to lead global regulation and react to fears borne from ChatGPT, Europe rushed its landmark AI Act into law in 2024. Already the world’s most restrictive rulebook, the framework quickly proved too broad and complex to enforce. Stalled by implementation delays and concerns about European competitiveness, the EU postponed the law’s full rollout, leaving regulations uncertain.
AI should be regulated—risks exist and should be taken seriously. But governments need to act based on available evidence and verified facts, not corporate PR panic, the views of industry insiders, or the desire for quick political wins. The greatest danger facing society isn’t that software will awaken and overthrow its human masters. It is that we will allow the creators of the software to abdicate human responsibility for the systems they choose to build and help them pull up the ladder to market access behind them.
