Lilybeth Tan-Ng flies planes. Her father, Lucio Tan, one of the richest people in the Philippines, owns an entire airline.
Words ROBERT JA BASILIO JR. | Photography JONATHAN BALDONADO
When she was about five years old, Lilybeth Tan-Ng was left behind, all alone, inside an elevator of a Hong Kong hotel.
On the way up, the future Philippine Airlines (PAL) assistant vice-president for pilot affairs stayed right beside an aunt, who accompanied her during a family vacation. Her aunt, Lilybeth remembered, bumped into a long-lost friend and turned the elevator ride into an unplanned reunion. “They chatted non-stop,” said Ms. Tan-Ng, recalling the flurry of niceties and small explosions of glee they traded as they went up from one floor to another. As they stepped out, the adults, in their enthusiasm, forgot about little Lilybeth, who watched the elevator doors close, trapping her inside with nothing but a heavy silence that emphasized that she was left behind, although inadvertently. “For three minutes, I just stood inside as the elevator went down and up,” she said.
Despite being too short to press the elevator buttons and call for help, she kept calm. During the descent, the elevator brought her to a cavernous bar that, to her, looked “like a cellar.” She knew she had to do something, if only to get back to her grandmother who was staying in one of the upper floors. When the elevator doors closed again, she jumped and kept on jumping, hoping to hit the button for her grandmother’s floor. In less than half an hour, she found her way back thanks to her resolve to escape what was potentially a tricky, even traumatic, situation.
The anecdote, which Ms. Tan-Ng considers her earliest memory, illustrates—however broadly—the strength of character that helped her become a pilot. It wasn’t easy, especially not for someone whose father—Lucio Tan, one of the country’s richest persons—is also the owner of an entire airline. Sometime in 2000, five or so years after Ms. Tan-Ng worked at the front desks of two international hotel chains, she was accepted to the revenue management department of Philippine Airlines (PAL). Reporting for work at PAL headquarters, she saw a Boeing 737 simulator for the first time. She checked out the cockpit and gawked at the instrument panel, thinking that flying planes for a living might not be such a bad idea.
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Except that her parents were not amused. While supportive about what she wanted to do in her life, they wanted her to keep her feet on the ground—literally, as it turned out. “When I like something, I am ready for a yes or no answer,” Ms. Tan-Ng said. “When I was young, I wanted to do gymnastics and horseback-riding. When my parents said no, it was fine—no problem.” Her dream to fly, though, stayed with her.
And so, just like the little girl who was left behind in an elevator, she had no one to rely on but herself. She knew she had to push the right buttons, so to speak, to get her desired result. She bided her time. A year later, she asked again and was surprised when she was given the green light. She immediately enrolled in PAL’s flight school, an adventure that allowed her to fly all over the country. She became so accustomed to mounting flights on a Cessna 172-R training plane that it became second nature. “It was no longer different from just driving a car,” she said. When she graduated from the PAL Aviation School in July 2004, she was ranked third overall in her class. This came as no surprise to those who witnessed her bag third place in the spot landing competition of the Clark International Aero Sports Festival in February 2004.
“I love the approach and landing part, especially when it’s windy,” she said. “When you do it properly, you feel one with the plane when landing.” Out of all the aircraft in PAL’s fleet, the Airbus A320 is her favorite. According to Ms. Tan-Ng, the short-haul passenger jet is nimble and responsive.
Her skill and aviation know-how put an end to any whispers that Ms. Tan-Ng was benefitting from nepotism. On one of the first passenger flights she co-piloted, she received the third-degree treatment from her seniors. (She isn’t sure if she was given a hard time because she was the boss’s daughter, but one can surmise). “I don’t know whether it was deliberate but the captain was asking me about technical things to check if I really knew my stuff,” she said. During the interrogation, the captain pointed to a line on the instrument panel and asked her what it was called. The question was obscure to the point of being a thinly veiled attempt to stump her. It failed. She knew what it was. “It was a lubber line,” she said, referring to a fixed line on a compass pointing towards the front of the aircraft. “It became fun in the end because I was able to answer his questions.”
Not all flights were marked by toxic pop quizzes, domineering officers, and uncooperative crew members. A few years back, as she was about to embark on a long-haul San Francisco-to-Manila flight, someone who sounded familiar hailed her on the cockpit radio. It was her father, “Kapitan” himself, who was inside the cockpit of another plane that was about to take off. “Huwag masyadong mabilis, ha?” (Make sure you don’t fly too fast, you hear?), he told her. She thanked her father and tried her best to avoid the amused looks of her fellow crew members who overheard.
Now that she’s assistant VP of PAL’s pilot affairs, exchanges with her father—at least those transmitted and received by one plane cockpit to another—might be few and far between. She spends more time at her desk than in the air, managing the concerns of pilots, who are always struggling to establish a work-life balance. Recent events have shown the world how important it is to make sure that pilots are healthy and happy.
As a PAL official, Ms. Tan-Ng was able to bring in a piece of equipment similar to the one that started her life in aviation—another flight simulator, but this time, for the Airbus 320. Prior to the purchase, pilots had to go to Hong Kong for training. “We had to pay for hotels for all pilots. Even without the actual numbers of the finance department, you got the idea that it would be better if we got our own simulator.” Her decision was also motivated by something beyond the bottom line. “We also saved time for the pilots,” said Ms. Tan-Ng, who has two children with her husband, a training pilot for PAL.
Aside from overseeing the welfare of pilots, Ms. Tan-Ng has also been able to pursue another one of her passions: that of improving the standards of teaching mathematics to children locally. With the help of four other mothers like her, she established the Jupiter Makati center branch of the CMA Mental Arithmetic School, the first of several such schools across the country. Students learn to use the abacus and work out complicated equations in their heads. Good thing she doesn’t need to get anyone’s permission to do that.
