Aero-Scare: The Most Dangerous Job I Ever Had
- SJ
- Aug 12
- 3 min read
Airports look glamorous from the terminal. But behind the scenes at Melbourne Airport, working for Aerocare (Aero-Scare to those of us who survived it), it was chaos wrapped in a hi-vis vest.
This was a place where safety was optional, equipment was ancient, and casuals were expected to hold the whole operation together for $23 an hour.
Paid Peanuts, Served Chaos
No pats on the back. No job security. Often, there is no proper equipment.
No light-up marshalling wands at night — guiding 80 tonnes of aircraft in the dark like we were waving at a mate across the street, while being blinded by the landing light the pilots needed to use to see me.
Supervisors with God complexes — one jabbed a finger into my chest over “being late” while wearing a watch five minutes fast to trap people.
Speak up? Get punished. I reported the DPL (disabled person’s lift) charging with its power cord sitting in a pool of water. The following week, my 50-hour roster became five miserable 3-hour shifts.
Brutal reviews. After being forcefully assigned a “mentor”, someone I had no respect for, I was told that I was the worst worker they had ever seen in their life... Uplifting mentorship right there!!
Under-pressure, under-staffed. While other airlines would utilise six ground crew per aircraft, we often had three.
Incidents You Couldn’t Make Up
In my time there, I witnessed:
Doors falling off the cleaning van while driving airside.
Aircraft colliding with tugs. (You read that right)
A mate copping a face full of human waste when the toilet service hose blew off — at a facility straight out of the 1970s, where we shoved tampons and condoms down the drain with a steel rod.
A Tiger Airways logo peeling off mid-flight to Alice Springs — the captain refused to fly back until it was fixed.
Ovens in galleys were so caked with food that they were a petri dish.
A boogie board go flying in 80km/h winds, across the active runway and rests against the perimeter fence.
And yes — my stuff-up. I marshalled an A320 onto the wrong line, blocking the taxiway apron and stopping all gate movements. You can’t just hand-push an Airbus out of the way. In my defence, it was my first time on that particular gate, without training.
The “Perks”
There were rare moments worth remembering:
My first start-up and marshalling a jet aircraft weighing almost 80 tonnes with 180 passengers onboard.
Crawling inside 737s, A320s, and Virgin’s 777.
Servicing the Prime Minister’s BBJ.
Not being the bloke who copped a face full of waste.
Remembering some of the interesting names on bag tags.
But they didn’t come close to balancing the risks.
Why It Was a Death Trap
The problems weren’t “bad luck” — they were baked into the culture:
Minimal maintenance on critical equipment.
Supervisors chasing control, not safety.
Casuals treated as disposable — and punished for speaking up.
Paper procedures with no follow-through.
When the cheapest way is the only way, it’s not a workplace — it’s a liability waiting to make headlines.
What I Took With Me
Safety starts at the top — no exceptions.
Casuals deserve the same protection as full-timers.
You can’t fake compliance — cut corners and the truth will surface fast.
Aero-Scare was one of the most dangerous gigs I’ve ever had — and it’s the reason I will never accept “that’s just how it’s done here” as an excuse for risk.
If you think functioning gear, safe systems, and basic respect are optional, you’re not running ground services. You’re running a ticking time bomb.
After the chest-pointing incident, I resigned for my safety and well-being, and so I didn’t end up getting myself in trouble for responding.
Thankfully, for workers and passengers, this mob is no longer around.
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