Exploring Flying Opportunities In Casablanca
During a period of leave from the South East Asian carrier I had been flying for, I decided to explore the possibility of securing a position with the Moroccan national carrier based in Casablanca. I had always wanted an excuse to go to Casablanca since seeing the 1942 classic starring Humphrey Bogart and Ingrid Bergman.
At the time expatriate pilots working in Morocco were earning high salaries with a 3% total tax liability. Most of the flying was to Europe with flight times of between two and three hours. My friend, Jim, who was flying with me in the Far East, was also interested in looking into the situation in Morocco. As Jim had family commitments in Copenhagen, where he had been flying previously, we arranged to meet in London the following week.
In London we had dinner in a bistro in the Fulham Road, Chelsea while we discussed our plan of attack for securing employment in Morocco. Jim had a friend in Casablanca who was flying as a first officer for the national carrier, and who had given him an insight into the employment situation.
The airline was unusual in that the chief pilot was also the head of the air force. There was no formal interview process for pilot applicants. Instead the application procedure involved flying the 727 from Casablanca to Paris and back to Casablanca while under observation from the general. During the flight he would take a cursory glance at the applicant's paperwork - licenses, medical certificate, logbooks and curriculum vitae. Effectively, the interview consisted of demonstrating the capability to handle the aircraft satisfactorily in a normal line operation.
As the round trip block time was just under six hours, there was plenty of opportunity for slipping up, especially in bad weather. The reasons why this particular route was chosen was because of the daily schedule, as well as the fairly complex arrival and departure procedures and traffic congestion in Paris at the estimated time of arrival. This was more of a problem for those who had never flown into Paris before. Jim had heard that the slightest deviation from what the general considered to be standard operating procedures, resulted in automatic disqualification. We already knew how difficult it was to meet the him, and that those who did had a fifty fifty chance at best of getting employment with the airline.
After dinner we decided to take the underground to the theatre district to see a show. With over 40 theatres in the West End it took a while to read what the Times theatre critics had to say about what was playing. A few years previously I'd had the good fortune to spend 11 days in London. I exploited the opportunity by taking my girl friend to the theatre on seven consecutive nights.
The following morning we flew to Zurich, then continued on to Casablanca with Swissair. On arrival we were met by Jim's friend, Jorgen, who drove us to the hotel Villa Blanca. They only had two rooms left and for the next few days the hotel was full. Before leaving he handed us two complete sets of Jeppesen charts for Paris Charles De Gaulle airport, so we could familiarize ourselves with the procedures before having to fly them. Neither of us had been there before except as passengers.
Next morning we were taken to Bill White's leased mansion. On the gate there was a sign which read €The White House€. Bill was an American pilot who had been flying for Iran Air up until the time the Shah was ousted. In Casablanca he enjoyed a sumptuous life style with a fairly light flight schedule. During a cold cut lunch washed down with local beer, Bill confided that he had just been refused an exit visa for tax evasion and was, therefore, unable to leave the country for a weekend in Paris. I was a little surprised to hear this. Personally, I wouldn't have had any difficulty stumping up 3% of a $100,000+ salary. However, I didn't comment on this as we were guests in his house, and apart from that it was none of my business.
In the afternoon we were driven out to the airport where we were hoping to meet the general. His secretary told us that he was temporarily out of the country and that he had not told her when he'd be returning. She added that there were limited openings for 727 flight crew following the leasing of another aircraft.
Jorgen drove us back to town, picked up the bags at the hotel, then took us to his house on a hill overlooking the city. In the evening we were taken to an open air restaurant on the boulevard which runs beside the ocean. Bill White and a couple of other expatriate pilots joined us for dinner and drinks. The sea breeze was welcome as it had been a very hot day, and the food was quite good and not at all expensive. It just kept coming and there was no possibility of walking out hungry.
During the meal I was disappointed to learn that not a single shot of the Humphrey Bogart/Ingrid Bergman classic had been filmed in Casablanca. It turned out that the bazaar scene was shot in a Hollywood studio and that the airport in the film was in Van Nuys, California.
That night I slept on the couch in our host's living room. When I awoke I saw a large black scorpion clawing its way up the curtains. I thought they lived out in the desert but I was told that there were also lots of them in the suburbs. I have an aversion to scorpions so I left it to its own devices while I showered and dressed.
After breakfast we headed back out to the airport on the off chance of meeting the general. This time the secretary was quite brusque. She told us that if we were serious about working for the airline we'd better take up temporary residence in town like others had done who were now flying for the airline. There was no point in mailing a resume as it would go straight to file 13 - the rubbish bin! There was only one way to get a job and that was to demonstrate skill and daring between Casablanca and Paris and return. Normal airline job interviews last for half an hour at most. This one would last half a day!
Over a long lunch by the sea we discussed the secretary's suggestion to take a room while patiently awaiting the mandatory flight check. I must confess it was tempting but in the end we decided to pull the plug and book seats on Swissair's Geneva flight the next morning.
Casablanca seemed like a pretty nice place to live and the expatriate company we had met was congenial enough. However, we were not in a position to wait very long as we had contractual obligations back in the Far East, albeit at half the salary. I suppose my biggest disappointment was not being able to have a drink in the bazaar where Humphrey Bogart had uttered those immortal words to Ingrid Bergman, €Here's looking at you kid.€
At the time expatriate pilots working in Morocco were earning high salaries with a 3% total tax liability. Most of the flying was to Europe with flight times of between two and three hours. My friend, Jim, who was flying with me in the Far East, was also interested in looking into the situation in Morocco. As Jim had family commitments in Copenhagen, where he had been flying previously, we arranged to meet in London the following week.
In London we had dinner in a bistro in the Fulham Road, Chelsea while we discussed our plan of attack for securing employment in Morocco. Jim had a friend in Casablanca who was flying as a first officer for the national carrier, and who had given him an insight into the employment situation.
The airline was unusual in that the chief pilot was also the head of the air force. There was no formal interview process for pilot applicants. Instead the application procedure involved flying the 727 from Casablanca to Paris and back to Casablanca while under observation from the general. During the flight he would take a cursory glance at the applicant's paperwork - licenses, medical certificate, logbooks and curriculum vitae. Effectively, the interview consisted of demonstrating the capability to handle the aircraft satisfactorily in a normal line operation.
As the round trip block time was just under six hours, there was plenty of opportunity for slipping up, especially in bad weather. The reasons why this particular route was chosen was because of the daily schedule, as well as the fairly complex arrival and departure procedures and traffic congestion in Paris at the estimated time of arrival. This was more of a problem for those who had never flown into Paris before. Jim had heard that the slightest deviation from what the general considered to be standard operating procedures, resulted in automatic disqualification. We already knew how difficult it was to meet the him, and that those who did had a fifty fifty chance at best of getting employment with the airline.
After dinner we decided to take the underground to the theatre district to see a show. With over 40 theatres in the West End it took a while to read what the Times theatre critics had to say about what was playing. A few years previously I'd had the good fortune to spend 11 days in London. I exploited the opportunity by taking my girl friend to the theatre on seven consecutive nights.
The following morning we flew to Zurich, then continued on to Casablanca with Swissair. On arrival we were met by Jim's friend, Jorgen, who drove us to the hotel Villa Blanca. They only had two rooms left and for the next few days the hotel was full. Before leaving he handed us two complete sets of Jeppesen charts for Paris Charles De Gaulle airport, so we could familiarize ourselves with the procedures before having to fly them. Neither of us had been there before except as passengers.
Next morning we were taken to Bill White's leased mansion. On the gate there was a sign which read €The White House€. Bill was an American pilot who had been flying for Iran Air up until the time the Shah was ousted. In Casablanca he enjoyed a sumptuous life style with a fairly light flight schedule. During a cold cut lunch washed down with local beer, Bill confided that he had just been refused an exit visa for tax evasion and was, therefore, unable to leave the country for a weekend in Paris. I was a little surprised to hear this. Personally, I wouldn't have had any difficulty stumping up 3% of a $100,000+ salary. However, I didn't comment on this as we were guests in his house, and apart from that it was none of my business.
In the afternoon we were driven out to the airport where we were hoping to meet the general. His secretary told us that he was temporarily out of the country and that he had not told her when he'd be returning. She added that there were limited openings for 727 flight crew following the leasing of another aircraft.
Jorgen drove us back to town, picked up the bags at the hotel, then took us to his house on a hill overlooking the city. In the evening we were taken to an open air restaurant on the boulevard which runs beside the ocean. Bill White and a couple of other expatriate pilots joined us for dinner and drinks. The sea breeze was welcome as it had been a very hot day, and the food was quite good and not at all expensive. It just kept coming and there was no possibility of walking out hungry.
During the meal I was disappointed to learn that not a single shot of the Humphrey Bogart/Ingrid Bergman classic had been filmed in Casablanca. It turned out that the bazaar scene was shot in a Hollywood studio and that the airport in the film was in Van Nuys, California.
That night I slept on the couch in our host's living room. When I awoke I saw a large black scorpion clawing its way up the curtains. I thought they lived out in the desert but I was told that there were also lots of them in the suburbs. I have an aversion to scorpions so I left it to its own devices while I showered and dressed.
After breakfast we headed back out to the airport on the off chance of meeting the general. This time the secretary was quite brusque. She told us that if we were serious about working for the airline we'd better take up temporary residence in town like others had done who were now flying for the airline. There was no point in mailing a resume as it would go straight to file 13 - the rubbish bin! There was only one way to get a job and that was to demonstrate skill and daring between Casablanca and Paris and return. Normal airline job interviews last for half an hour at most. This one would last half a day!
Over a long lunch by the sea we discussed the secretary's suggestion to take a room while patiently awaiting the mandatory flight check. I must confess it was tempting but in the end we decided to pull the plug and book seats on Swissair's Geneva flight the next morning.
Casablanca seemed like a pretty nice place to live and the expatriate company we had met was congenial enough. However, we were not in a position to wait very long as we had contractual obligations back in the Far East, albeit at half the salary. I suppose my biggest disappointment was not being able to have a drink in the bazaar where Humphrey Bogart had uttered those immortal words to Ingrid Bergman, €Here's looking at you kid.€
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