From stewardess to funeral planner

by time news

HONG KONG — Before becoming a funeral planner, Connie Wong was a Hong Kong airline stewardess.

The sudden end to a career he had cherished for six years brought its own kind of pain, he said.

It was one of many losses experienced by residents of the Chinese territory.

Hong Kong’s economy began to deteriorate in 2019, when a proposed extradition law triggered months of fierce street clashes between protesters and police.

Connie Cheung, who ended a long career at Dragonair when it closed in 2020 to become a postpartum nanny, tries on her old airline uniform in Hong Kong on July 20, 2022. o Inspire people to make radical changes in their lives . (Louise Delmotte/The New York Times)

Then, during the coronavirus pandemic, harsh and ever-evolving restrictions that fit the continent’s “zero COVID” policy turned entire industries upside down.

Numerous businesses were forced to close, thousands of people left the city and some of those who stayed have had to reinvent yourself.

Airline staff members walk past a closed Cathay Pacific counter at Hong Kong International Airport, on July 18, 2022.  Photo Louise Delmotte/The New York Times.

Airline staff members walk past a closed Cathay Pacific counter at Hong Kong International Airport, on July 18, 2022. Photo Louise Delmotte/The New York Times.

When Cathay Dragonan arm of Hong Kong’s flagship airline, Cathay Pacificclosed in 2020 when travel stopped, Wong was among the thousands left without a job.

Used to working overnight flights, she couldn’t sleep at night.

“Some people lost their relatives.

Some emigrated.

Others lost their health, and not only their bodily health, but also their mental health,” he said recently.

“This is not just about Hong Kongers, but the whole world is experiencing this. It is difficult to face. I have lost my job. But life will always bring alternatives.”

A guide to grief

At Cathay Dragon, Wong, 35, had often asked to be assigned to flights to Kathmandu, Nepal, so she could volunteer at a children’s home and animal shelter there.

The search for something equally rewarding led her to apply last summer to be a Life Celebrant at Forget Thee Nota Hong Kong non-profit organization that tries to make worthy funerals are affordable for families in need.

Mandi Cheung, who worked for a time as a cleaner at a quarantine center for COVID-19 patients, prepares coffee at a store in Hong Kong, on July 19, 2022. Photo Louise Delmotte/The New York Times.

Mandi Cheung, who worked for a time as a cleaner at a quarantine center for COVID-19 patients, prepares coffee at a store in Hong Kong, on July 19, 2022. Photo Louise Delmotte/The New York Times.

It meets several times a week with the families, in a well-ventilated room adorned with flowers.

As she helps them plan the ceremonies, she suggests writing keepsake notes to leave on or in the casket, as a way to show gratitude or put aside grudges when saying goodbye.

For a 4-year-old girl’s funeral, Wong decorated the seats with cutouts of the girl’s favorite cartoon character.

In some respects, Wong’s previous work experience proved transferable, he said.

Just as it had once found ways to placate passengers facing flight delays, now it was finding solutions for people in far greater need.

The adjustment was not easy.

After her first funerals, images of grieving families played through her mind at night.

She could barely eat from stress and her hair began to fall out.

In November, he took a sick leave, which lasted for months.

Her bosses asked her to reflect on whether this was the right job for her.

Wong returned in April, when Hong Kong was facing its worst coronavirus outbreak.

Hospitals were overloaded beyond capacity, and thousands of elderly people died of COVID-19.

He submerged again.

When family members were unable to attend funerals in person after testing positive for COVID, he arranged tlive streams and narrated the rites.

There are some days when you long to fly again.

But she says she has found more far-reaching satisfaction in helping struggling families process loss.

“The impact of COVID pushed us to face reality,” he said.

“We have to adapt.”

The COVID Cleaner

Although the pandemic practically grounded the aviation industry, Mandi Cheung’s day job as a security guard at an aeronautical engineering company remained unaffected.

But he resigned in March to become cleaner in a quarantine center for COVID patients.

It was a chance to earn “quick money” while saving to emigrate to Britain, he said.

The six-day-a-week cleaning job paid about $3,000 per month, roughly $ 1,000 more that your security work.

At the peak of the COVID outbreak this year, Hong Kong’s hospitals and quarantine centers faced a huge overflow of patients.

The Cheung Quarantine Camp near Tsing Yi Port, which has nearly 4,000 beds, was one of eight hastily built facilities.

the experience was more distressing than I expected.

Cheung, 35, was not allowed drink water or use the bathroom while wearing personal protective equipment.

He cleaned bathrooms and used rapid test kits every day, worried about taking the virus home.

His mother would let him in only after he disinfected his entire body at the door.

As the number of infections leveled off and pandemic fatigue set in, she stopped worrying, she said.

“There really was a lack of resources, the distribution of work was unequal,” he said.

“I was filled with resentment while working. He was telling myself that it would be only for a few months.”

In the meantime, he had continued to take on additional jobs.

In May, he worked six-hour shifts at a neighborhood coffee shop after working overnight at the quarantine center.

Cheung had intended to work at the quarantine center for five months, but it closed in June when the number of “VIPs,” as his team leader told him to refer to patients, dwindled.

He plans to work full time at the coffee shop until he leaves Hong Kong.

Before the pandemic, Cheung ran a late-night cafe operation called NightOwl, but it was difficult to sustain financially under COVID dining restrictions.

He hopes to open a similar business one day after he emigrates.

But he is also curious about new experiences.

“In the end, I will explore a new world,” he said.

Connie Cheung, who ended a long career at Dragonair when she closed in 2020 to become a postpartum nanny, with her 2-year-old grandson Kason Ip in Hong Kong on July 20, 2022.  Photo Louise Delmotte/The New York Times.

Connie Cheung, who ended a long career at Dragonair when she closed in 2020 to become a postpartum nanny, with her 2-year-old grandson Kason Ip in Hong Kong on July 20, 2022. Photo Louise Delmotte/The New York Times.

A caregiver for all ages

As a service manager aboard Cathay Dragon, Connie Cheung, 57, had reached the highest rung of her career.

Cheung, who is not related to Mandi Cheung, joined the airline, then called Dragonair, more than three decades ago as a flight attendant.

He had recently extended his contract after turning 55, the retirement age for cabin crew.

She was taking care of her grandson and daughter-in-law when the airline closed in 2020.

She decided to take a series of government courses on postnatal care, learning how to perform breast massages and boil hearty herbal soups.

She began training to be a pui yuet, or nanny, for babies and a caregiver for new mothers, and in 2021 she began her second career.

“Now I am a beginner againCheung said.

She and a friend, Wing Lam, 48, another shipboard services manager turned postpartum nanny, trade tips on how to handle germaphobic moms and whiny grandparents.

They joke about how their fancy suitcases have been replaced by metal trolleys, which they transport from the subway to wet markets to buy food for the meals they cook for their clients.

When he lost his job at the airline, Cheung was earning about $4,500 a month plus benefits, like medical care.

Now, he earns about $3,300 a month. Lam, for her part, misses the thrill of managing a plane crew, despite the stress and uncertainties that accompany each flight.

In May, Cathay Pacific sent recruiting emails to thousands of laid-off employees, asking them to reapply for entry-level positions.

Lam is hopeful that the airline will rehire senior staff.

But in the meantime, she plans to use her experience as an in-flight manager as a nanny agent, connecting caregivers with parents.

It has started training people new to the industry, including former flight attendants.

Cheung stays the course.

Her calendar has filled up as clients have referred her to other pregnant women.

While the job is unstable (no applications one month, then several the next), she hopes it will soon pay for family vacations.

She said that she could see herself taking care of babies for the next 10 years:

“I have found my new direction in life.”

c.2022 The New York Times Company

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