Preambling... (It could be a word.)

Before I write the blog that I’ve been asked to write regarding this past adventure-laden weekend, I will give you a shortish summary of life onboard.

I learnt my lesson about the crew bar...well, sort of. My first contract onboard as an associate auctioneer involved a weeklong training that was straight out of Wall Street. The training employed fear-based tactics pitting us against one another. We had little sleep as there were long hours of memorization for the impromptu presentations we could be asked to give at any time. The joke around the hotel was “Chicken or beef?” In other words, what do you want to eat when you get sent packing…


When we finally landed onboard, our first week was unpaid, as the auctioneer onboard could choose to fire us if we didn’t prove ourselves on the ship itself. Sea days on a ship are hell for anyone with a nametag. There is no escape, so we all work. Bar bills are always due on a sea day, and the auctions always interfered with our ability to pay those hefty bills. (After all, if the guests can’t go anywhere, why not make them look at crap art and attempt to convince them to become “collectors.”) Thus, I put down my Visa, as I was instructed by my auctioneer and never saw a single bill from the ship. I had also never seen a paycheck from the art company. They didn’t start paying you until 11 weeks into the job, and as I was on a crap run from Galveston, TX, the paychecks weren’t high. (It was solely a commission-based job…and while there was a great deal of money to be made by some auctioneers, those fortunate people weren’t attempting to hard-close field hands and oilfield workers.) When I came home I found out that my credit card had a balance of 3800 due…and after receiving my final check, including my recouped expenses, I had made 3700 USD. Oops. Apparently buying rounds for your coworkers, and going out every night is expensive. Lesson learnt!

As Cruise Staff, you are an actual employee of the cruise company as opposed to a contractor (as I was with the art company). You receive your pay every two weeks in cash, minus federal taxes (if you are an American citizen). Immediately upon receiving your pay, you are handed your bar bill. This includes any purchases you made onboard, including uniforms, snacks or bottled water, internet use (therein lies one reason I’ve been crap at updating this blog), and any purchases made at the bars onboard. It keeps you responsible, and after my boondoggle last contract, I’m completely fine with this arrangement.

I had also planned on not making any regrettable choices in the crew bar. If I’m not spending money there, then I won’t be making an ass of myself, right?


Yeah…wrong. There is a story regarding that photo. The one you’re concocting will probably suffice.

The rooms are…small. Guests (what we’re required to call passengers) onboard may complain about the size of their staterooms (what we’re required to call cabins), but they have no room to grumble. We sleep in bunk beds that are so small that my oversized throw (50 by 70 inches) is just perfect as a comforter. (We’re supplied with one thin wool blanket, and most of us choose to make our rooms more inhabitable by cheering it up with our own duvets.)


We also have curtains for privacy on the bunk beds…well we’re supposed to. Sometimes that doesn’t always work out. The new person coming into the room gets the top bunk. Always. It's the order of things. Sex is possible on the top bunk. I didn’t have a curtain on my last contract…and didn’t realize that there was an additional lock on the door. Awkward.


Upon arriving onboard you’re asked if you’ve had any gastrointestinal “issues” over the past 48 hours. Norwalk Virus or G.I. is a BIG problem on ships. If you have it as a crew member, you’re automatically confined to your cabin for 48 hours. Those rooms are small and being confined can feel like a death sentence. Especially when you’re exploding from both ends (thankfully I’ve not experienced this).

Some of you may know that I was incredibly ill and that is why I’m currently on land. I was stuck in my cabin for two weeks, unable to work, stuck watching the same crap films on loop. I was allowed to leave my cabin to eat in the crew mess and to go to the doctor to have them confirm that I was still unwell (being off duty only lasts one day, so you have to go back every day to get examined and placed back on the sick list). After two weeks of being off duty, they send you home on medical leave to get well, and if you respond to treatment and the lawyers at the head office agree, you’re sent back to a ship.

My doctor is seeing me tomorrow to give me the all clear. Then I wait for them to tell me where to go...