Fly Byes.

A deadweight has been cut loose from around my neck and I’ve been set free; set free to fly.


I have been accruing wretched, bloody Fly Buys points since… glory, how long has it been? Well, since soon after the scheme’s inception in 1994, so 10 years, at least. Right from the start, a friend of mine who worked in Marketing at BP called Fly Buys, “the worst customer loyalty scheme in history.” As Fly Buys was linked to Shell, not BP, however, I assumed his was just a case of sour grapefruits, and kept on collecting those points anyway. I mean, I had to buy petrol, I had to buy groceries; why not get a little something extra for doing the things I had to do anyway?

The problem, of course, is that it takes more than the odd purchase of petrol and assorted food stuffs to collect enough points for even the smallest of shiny trinkets. It takes strategic purchasing and lifestyle alteration to get anywhere close, and with no credit card, no home loan, and no dupes to farm additional cards out to, I was left paddlin’ around in the shallows.

But I plugged away with my groceries, my petrol, and occasional BONUS! points from a triple-pack of chewing gum or whatever, only to discover several years into the scheme that Fly Buys points have a shelf life! Don’t cash them in within three years and, like your dreams for that ‘Kambrook Pancake Factory + Omlette Maker’, they disappear in a puff of smoke. You don’t just need to work hard, you need to work fast! I was trapped on a treadmill of insanity, frantically grabbing for new points while old ones flew out behind like a ticker-tape parade down Main Street.

I should have jumped there and then, but it was like being on hold for 20 minutes: If I’d known it was going to take this long, I wouldn’t have bothered, but now that I have, I can’t give up, because then it REALLY will have been for nothing. And if I’ve been at it this long, surely the end will come any second now… any second… five, four, three, two, one… and a half, one… damn it! Too late I realised my friend had been right all along, and every time I used my card I felt him and his beloved BP Bookmuncher floating just over my shoulder, shaking their heads in disappointment.

And then, out of the blue, Fly Buys sent me a second card that someone else could use, but that would be linked to my account. With duplicitous words and promises of untold riches I convinced Kate to join me, hoping that together we could knock this one over the fence. And we did actually manage to make some small headway, and so set ourselves the goal of gathering the 12,000 points required for a dozen bottles of wine, before getting out the scissors and calling it a day.

Fast-forward several lifetimes, and at last that great day arrived. The day we held in our trembling hands a Fly Buys statement with enough points for the Wyndham Estate Mixed Dozen! We simply could not believe this journey was about to end. And, of course, it wasn’t. The statement had arrived on the last day of the month, and 300 precious points were primed to be blasted into oblivion when the new month began. A loss that would take us just under the required number of points. “Quickly! Find the phone,” I bellowed. “Let’s cash these first-born in while there’s still time!” Which, of course, there wasn’t. It was now outside business hours, and the head-smashingly perky Fly Buys robot told me to call back tomorrow when the team would be delighted to assist me with my enquiry. “To the Internet!” I screamed. “There are no business hours on the Internet!” Which, of course, there are. And after logging in I discovered that not only had they shut down for the day, they’d also already stripped me of my 300 points although the current month had several hours to live! It seemed as though the excruciating journey would go on.

But then Bomber – who had recently brought his own drawn out Fly Buys saga to a 12 bottle conclusion – swept down like an angel of mercy and bestowed his wisdom upon me. While my 11,992 points was not enough for the Wyndham dozen, it was more than enough for the Cleanskin Dozen. “Cash ‘em in, and be done with it,” he ordered me, and I did. Twelve labels are not worth the grief.

And so, a new dawn. Yesterday, I filled up the car at whatever service station I happened to be driving past, handed over some cash, and walked the hell away. It was great. On my way home I also popped into whatever supermarket was convenient, which just so happened to be Coles. At the register, the checkout executive asked me if I had Fly Buys? “Certainly don’t,” I replied with a smile. “I’ve just set myself free from Fly Buys and ditched my card into the bin. It’s wonderful.” With an expression as bored as a plank of wood, she held my gaze for a second, before wordlessly turning back to her register to complete my transaction.

Oh well, I never expected everyone to share my excitement.