Hold that status!

Somewhere in an old briefcase, I've got a British Airways Gold Card. Being a Gold Member was certainly good while it lasted, but my status went back to almost zilch with the birth of my son. On my return to work, I orientated myself more towards working within Germany, with at most short trips within Europe.

I was pleased to read that Qantas have launched a Status Hold initiative. Frequent Flyers will be able to hold their status 18 months after having a child. This applies to mums and dads, as well as those adopting or fostering a child, as long as they have taken at least 6 months m/paternity leave. So no more having to rebuild your status, and you can still use all the privileges bestowed on you - lounges, preferred seating and so on.

This is a great idea, and shows the true meaning of a loyalty scheme. It's a long-term reward, with the new parents getting something back. The brand recognises the potential value of those customers in the future, and also gives the new offspring a good first impression of the airline when they are travelling with their parents.

More than that, it recognises the way a new mum who has been a successful career woman may be feeling. She may feel guilty about leaving her young child, she may experience a loss of confidence. She is almost certainly sleep-deprived. Letting her keep her status and all those privileges, just when she needs them most, is something that hardly costs much to the airline, but could lead to increased loyalty in the next phase of her life and career.

Now that's what I call family-friendly!

My little car park

I must have seen too many bad films involving car parks, but the places give me the creeps. The low ceilings, the dim lighting, the sinister odour they exude. Shiver. I am all for the German law which requires the allocation of a number of designated parking spaces for women at no extra cost.

But I have to say I was rather taken aback at my last trip to Frankfurt airport. They have redesigned the women's parking areas from top to toe in a look that wouldn't be out of place in a Barbie or My Little Pony toy set.

It's, well... pink.

There are pink walls and pink ticket dispensers. There are flowers and the words 'Ladies (sic) Parking' just in case you were in doubt.

I have nothing against pink in the right place. I noticed that my deodorant  has a similar pink packaging, but, well, it's from adidas, which is normally a manly sort of brand, so they have to make things clear. And the whole thing is only about 10cm big and tucked away in the bathroom.

But this expanse of pink, and flowers - I'm not sure. It's not clear what the advantages are for me to park here rather than in one of the grey unisex bays, other than it's prettier and girlier. I would hope that this area has more thorough CCTV monitoring (there were some nasty incidents at Frankfurt Airport a few years back) but it's certainly not nearer to the terminal.

The thing is, most women who park at the airport are surely business women. Exactly the sort of women who don't want a pink laptop or mobile phone.

I note that the agency responsible, Damm & Bierbaum in Frankfurt, is run by two chaps called Dirk and Philipp. They even had flyers (arf, arf!) designed in "handbag-look" for the launch. Hmm.

And another thing I didn't like. I've got a red car. It clashes dreadfully against those pink walls.

The spider and the fly

On holiday, I went semi-voluntarily unplugged. Not being near a computer to look at e-mails or the internet was easy enough for two weeks, but I also became disconnected from the mobile phone when the wretched thing stubbornly refused to have any reception from the moment I landed at Vancouver airport. (I must ask T-Mobile about that: my husband's phone seemed to have no problems...strange.)

Anyway, once I had got used to the idea, I felt a wonderful sense of freedom and release. I asked myself: why is it assumed, these days, that you have to be connected, that you have to have your network at your fingertips, that you have to be "in touch"?

I think a lot of us kid ourselves. We think we're spiders, spinning our wonderful complex nets and webs, in full control, at the centre of things. But away from it all, I realised that I am often just a poor fly, caught up, buzzing helplessly in a sticky, suffocating net of someone else's making.