Opinion: It’s All Over For The Maestro

Oh Alan.

I’m not entirely sure where I’m going with this clumsy anecdote, but I’ll say this: I’ll miss him. So, forgive me for my trip into trite journalism clichés, but there are some things I want to get off my chest. Alan Joyce was the most famous – and infamous – airline boss in Australian Aviation history. He was frankly the only business figure in this country that every single person on the street knew. He revolutionised low-cost flying in Australia with Jetstar and then ruled the wider Qantas Group with an iron fist. He baited his main rival into a fight it couldn’t win over capacity and then smashed it so mercilessly that they went out of business. And as for the unions. Well, he saw their industrial action and said, ‘Fellas, I’ll show you how to strike. ’ And promptly ground his entire fleet to get what he wanted.

He did all this – as he himself admits with a flourish – as a small, Irish, working-class gay man. The sort of person who, back when he was appointed, didn’t get ahead in life. One day, it’ll make the most fabulous biopic. Because, as even his biggest detractors would admit, Joyce was box office. He was The Maestro.

And, to an extent, as a showman, he got lucky with his timing. Overseeing a period in Australian aviation history of great change. But like all great politicians, he dictated events rather than let them overwhelm him. And COVID-19 was his extraordinary swan song. If it seemed like he played the whole thing over in his head before it happened, then I can tell you he almost did. It’s a little-known fact that the Flying Kangaroo, under his watch, had already prepared a pandemic crisis plan in case the worst were to happen. As his rivals were caught blindsided, he stuck the course and was five steps ahead.

Qantas was one of the first companies in Australia to stand down staff, back when nobody had ever heard of the term. He used his significant clout with the media to lobby hard for the government not to grant Virgin a bailout – while at the same time securing money to keep his aircraft in the air. “A crisis happens in aviation every seven years,” he told reporter after reporter. He used the time to perform the biggest restructure in the company’s history, trimming its costs in a way that would have been unimaginable in normal times. When the premier of WA – the most successful politician in the history of Australia – refused to open his border, he promptly compared the state to North Korea. And thus, the border opened.

But even the greatest can outstay their welcome and get grumpy and tired. After all that success, you can forgive a man a few regrets. When queues formed at the airport, snaking out the door, he blamed the passengers. “They’re not match fit,” he shrieked, as if he were the manager of Manchester United. “They’ve forgotten to take their laptops out of their bags. ” And when their bags went missing, his airline pointed out those pesky passengers were simply the victims of rotten bad luck.

And, of course, it was a frightfully bad look when he started a huge hiring spree, after booting so many of his employees out of the emergency exit. “Didn’t the government pay you to keep them employed?” a dumbfounded public asked. At the height of the anti-Joyce movement, one belligerent passenger waited on the line to Qantas customer service for eight hours to prove a point. What a berk! He would have been OK if it wasn’t for that pesky probe by the ACCC, as an exhausted attack finally took their prized wicket.

And with that, he really was gone.

Some say he’s back at home, looking after his family. Other rumours suggest he’s on a cruise. He once said he fancied the Antarctic – because let’s face it, he got a chillier reception back here.

Oh Alan.

I will miss him. And admit it, you’ll miss him too.