Things They Don’t Tell You

January 30, 2012

There is a universal truth about engaging in a new job, new activity, or a new lifestyle: you don’t know enough to know what you don’t know. So, when someone asks you if you have any questions, you don’t even have the frame of reference that points you to the questions you should ask. Most learning occurs through trial, error and correction. Such is very true for the life of a crew member on a ship. It is even truer when you are mentored by those very experienced with ships for they can take for granted that which is second nature to them believing it is also intuitively known by others.

This can lead to some embarrassing moments, as previously documented in the Wardrobe Malfunction entry already submitted. But I keep learning some of the more obscure lessons day-by-day. For example, unless you have 3 stripes (I am deficient in this category by ½ ) you do not have the privilege of grazing on the sushi from the sushi bar in the Ocean View Café. Now if you know me at all you understand that I consider sushi an inalienable right, not a privilege, so it never crossed my mind that there was a limitation. The first night that our team dined in Ocean View I happily added several Japanese tasty treats to my plate. When I sat down at the table Laura’s first comment was “I guess I should have mentioned that you are not allowed to have sushi.” Of course I thought she was joking. Alas, she was not. I quickly consumed the offending delicacy lest I cause an international crisis, remembering to not make that mistake twice. But Laura told me the way around this restriction. If I go to eat at approximately 9:15pm, just before they close the sushi line, then the sushi chef is trying to ‘get rid of the remaining sushi’ prior to closing for the night. So, Japanese food on a Continental dining schedule. One of the peculiarities of life at sea.

There is an entire grid of privileges based on your position that is included in the personnel manual. When in doubt, I’ve learned to look there. But even though I now know that I can eat in Tuscan Grill, Murano, QSine, and the Lawn Club, but NOT BLU; and can drink in the Martini Bar but not Cellar Masters; there appear to be nuances to almost everything. The manual refers to some privileges as yes, per policy but fails to add where the additional bits of policy may be found. There are refinements such as I may drink in the Martini Bar, but must do so sitting at a table and not at the bar. I must sit to be served at Café Il Bacio, even if I’m taking my coffee in a To Go cup. When dining in a guest area, no more than four crew members may eat together, without previous permission of the Maître D.

This even extends to cabin servicing. As a two-and-a-half stripe, I am supposed to have my cabin cleaned and made up twice a week. But since I live between two senior officers, my cabin is cleaned daily. Of course, I never assumed it would be cleaned at all. The first day I made my bed. The second day I was running late and did not, but found that when I returned to my cabin my bed was made, turned down, garbage emptied, fresh towels placed in the bathroom and a vacuum had been run! I cleverly concluded I either had cabin service or the neatest burglar ever! However, I’m smart enough to assume that nothing in life is completely free, and was wise enough to ask my manager if it was expected that we tip our attendants. The answer, of course, was yes. So, each time I get paid, he gets paid.

Speaking of pay that is also one of the things that is just a bit different. We get paid in cash. Yep, no direct deposits or EFTs here. To make income immediately available, you are handed the full amount of your semi-monthly pay in a white envelope with lots of bills inside. This strikes me as odd since we run a cashless system onboard. So, after receiving my cash, I take a small amount and put it into a machine to increase my balance on my APass card, which is our onboard debit card. Then the rest of the cash goes directly into my stateroom safe, where it lives until I can arrange a wire transfer from the payroll office to my home bank account. The final thing I will share that they don’t tell you before you sign on is the biggest threat to you on ship.

We are obsessed with preventing gastrointestinal illness (or GI)! With a self-contained community of approximately 4000 persons, 2800 guests and 1200 crew, an outbreak of any virus can spread rapidly. GI is so debilitating and so easy to spread that we are obsessed with its prevention. If cleanliness is next to Godliness, then we are apparently trying to create a ship full of minor deities. We are required to wash our hands both upon entering the mess AND leaving the mess. There are Purell dispensers throughout the ship. If you go more than an hour without washing your hands you start to feel like you are going to be Typhoid Mary. If one percent of the ship’s crew or one percent of her guests contracts the virus, we go to level two of cleaning, which is a complete ship sanitation. As a precautionary measure we completed one of those during Turnaround Day in Bayonne this week. We had approached the magic one percent boundary, and we were going to do whatever we could to back around from that edge.

Sushi, cash, tipping and GI . . . just some of the things they fail to mention when you join this floating community.

And the adventure continues . . .