Welcome Aboard

By Penny Jarrett

After leaving her job in Hawaii and a failed relationship, moving to Los Angeles and knowing that she was literally going to starve to death at her new job, which was total commission, Penny read about a job in the newspaper that said, “Sail, see the world, travel.” Thinking it was the Navy but knowing that she had to have a job, she applied. Fortunately for her, it turned out to be a cruise company that offered her a job in the gift shops on board a ship. She accepted, having never been on a cruise ship before and with the knowledge that she gets seasick. The book contains short stories about getting settled on board and being the new kid on the block, meeting her new “family,” the job, what it’s like living on board a cruise ship for months at a time, the crew and what actually goes on below and above decks, entertainment, the cast of characters that are the guests, a major fire at sea, mishaps and death, shore excursions, and friendships that are made for a lifetime. It’s a decade worth of stories that have to be told, some sad and some funny but definitely entertaining. It was a life-changing decade for her in only the positive sense and was an incredible opportunity to see and experience distant lands and people, in a way that she never imagined. So welcome aboard!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Jun 23, 2017
• ISBN: 9781635681055

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Welcome Aboard

Penny Jarrett

Copyright © 2017 Penny Jarrett

All rights reserved

First Edition

PAGE PUBLISHING, INC.

New York, NY

First originally published by Page Publishing, Inc. 2017

ISBN 978-1-63568-104-8 (Paperback)

ISBN 978-1-63568-105-5 (Digital)

Printed in the United States of America

I would like to thank all my friends who helped make the experiences in this book possible and the encouragement and inspiration that they gave me. They changed my life forever.

A NEW LIFE BEGINS

I had recently left a wonderful life in Hawaii, where I had lived for the past seven years with a very nice lifestyle. I had previously lost both my parents, almost all my family, and seeing that I was an only child, nothing was holding me anywhere. My entire life was in boxes in storage, and I was looking to start a new life in a new place, but where? I decided to replace it for a brief stint of living in Los Angeles, a place that I had always wanted to live. I found a large house through a friend where every room had different people living (even in the kitchen, there was a family). There was a movie producer that I shared the bathroom with, a movie director that owned the house, the family, a lovely older lady, and a stray or two here and there. There was also one or two that lived in the garage. Consequently, I had to eat out every day or bring ready-made food home as there was no way to cook seeing that people were living on the floor of the kitchen. I found a restaurant where you could eat all you could for $5, so I would go there at about 2:30 p.m. as it ended at 3 p.m., and I would eat as much as I could. On Sundays, there were Cocaine Anonymous meetings in the living room. It was quite a different life for me as I had been brought up in the east coast in a traditional family atmosphere. I quickly got a job selling fax machines, a job I found very boring and unfulfilling. It was not by choice, but because I had no other option. I had to eat. It was when fax machines first came out on the market. We had an exclusive on one particular model that could be used from a car. My territory was to be Century City, so I was sure that I could make a lot of money. For the first six weeks, I got paid weekly; however, after that, it was total commission. After starting working and lugging these machines around in the back of my car and then into the clients’ offices, I realized that this just wasn’t the job for me. I was going to starve, and week 6 was not far away. It just was not a job for me. California so far was not working out the way I had thought.

I then saw an ad in the Sunday newspaper stating, Travel and see the world. Of course, it sounded fabulous, but almost too good to be true. Was it the Navy? I really needed a job, and quickly, so I applied. I received a call, and after two interviews, I was employed by a major cruise ship company to work in their gift shops on board a ship. I had to sign a probationary contract for three months, after which time I would be evaluated, and depending on my performance, I would then be given a permanent yearly contract. My airfare to and from the ship was paid for by the company. I was promised a base salary plus a total commission from all sales, no retirement, no social security, partial vacation pay and medical benefits. I felt it was worth a try, so why not? You can endure anything for three months.

I was told to be ready to go in two days. That meant figuring out how to pay my bills, putting everything I owned into storage, what to do with my car, and condensing my life into two suitcases of casual, semiformal and formal wear. Seeing that I have a history of getting seasick and turning a lovely shade of green, this was the last place I ever thought I would be working. I quit my fax machine job, packed my bags, and left California.

So there I was, after two days of running around like a chicken with its head cut off, trying to organize my life and wondering what my new one was going to be like. I was standing alone in LAX Airport when a gentleman tapped me on the shoulder and asked my name. I gave it to him, and it turned out to be the father of my new boss. Her name was Mary Ann. She had been on vacation in LA and was flying back to the ship on the same plane as I. I was introduced to her family, and before I knew it, I was boarding a plane bound for San Juan, Puerto Rico. A new adventure and chapter of my life was about to unfold.

As the taxi neared the port, a ship appeared, larger than any ship I had ever been on or seen. It looked much larger than the ones that you see on television. This was my new home and where I was going to be working.

Upon arrival, I carried my own bags up the gangway. There was no porter to carry my bags like I had seen on television, but then of course, I was crew. I was then taken to the crew office, where I was checked in. I received my room assignment and keys to my cabin—my new home. A picture was taken for my crew pass, a card that I would need for security reasons when boarding or disembarking the ship. Then I was taken next door to the crew accountant, where I had to sign on to the ship’s manifest, a document saying that I was now a member of the crew. I was also given a paper to fill out if I wanted any money sent directly home to my personal bank at pay-out time or keep it on the ship as you have a bank account there. That was a nice feature, I thought.

Then I was led to the room that was to be my home for the next three months. As the door opened, reality set in. A mansion it was not. You could sit on one bunk bed and almost touch all four walls! There were two persons of the same sex to a cabin. Each person had their own small closet (holding about twelve hangers), a large drawer under the bed, and four of the eight desk drawers. There was a set of bunk beds with blackout curtains that went around the beds so that you could sleep at any hour of the day or have privacy. Of course, the new person got the top bunk. The bottom bunk was for those with seniority. There was a small sitting area with two chairs and a very small table in-between them. There was no television, no VCR, and no refrigerator, but we did have a porthole. I found out that the porthole was a major blessing, because when you don’t have one, you feel like a mole. You never know what time it is or what the weather is outside. You really lose all conception of time.

The bathroom was another case. The showers were so small that if I never took another shower without the curtain sticking to my butt, I would be happy. The sink was smaller than the standard size, and there was a medicine cabinet. The toilets are all vacuum flush. It got to be a joke that if the whole ship flushed their toilets at the same time, we could sink the ship! I was informed that I was to pay $3 each week for our cabin cleaner. What a deal! Some of the Mexicans on board worked extra jobs in order to make more money. Cleaning cabins, bringing new clean towels and linen every day, and making our beds was just that job—and only $3 per week.

My new roommate, Carolyn, who also worked in the shops, was waiting for me. She was older than I, as was her friend Jamie. Jamie worked in the casino as a cashier. Both ladies took me under their wings and showed me and taught me all the ropes of ship and off-ship life. This was very unusual on ships as most people that have roommates lead very much their own existence or have other friends other than their roommates. It is very normal to live a single life and be by yourself most of the time with sometimes no one to really confide in or discuss real problems with. I was very fortunate with my new friends and boss.

I found out later that the reason most people go to work on ships is they are there for the money, have just finished a relationship and need time away, or are running away from something. It is also a great way to save money and pay off existing bills as all money you make can basically be saved: your housing and food are all paid for. The other great reason for working on ships is to see the world. That is why I was there … no major responsibilities.

I met a Filipino couple that were married and both working thirteen-month contracts. Their children were at home, living with the grandparents. They could make so much more out at sea than what they would make at home. What a sacrifice.

A lot of the officers and many other staff were also married. Again, they could make more money out here than in their home countries.

Being a new puppy as they call it, when we would go off in a port, I always seemed to spend more money than I had on me. Somehow, I would always be borrowing from Jamie but end up paying her back as soon as we got back to the ship. The joke between us was that I had my own bank, Bank of Jamie.

Ship life is an interesting experience. There is such a conglomeration of nationalities that it is really difficult to have the United Nations living together, twenty-four hours a day, months on end, and get along. The real world does not even get along this well. For the most part, it works though. The staff is more or less in their twenties and thirties, when their libidos are at the highest. Customs and eating requirements are quite different for each nationality. The nationalities are numerous—British, Japanese, Filipinos, South Africans, Norwegians, Swedish, Mexicans, Finnish, French, Dutch, Italians, Danish, Pakistanis, Americans, etc. There were at least some forty-nine different nationalities all living and getting along together on each ship. It is pretty amazing—and a cultural experience.

We ate our meals in the crew mess; however, there was also an officer’s mess just for officers. The Pakistanis and the Chinese had their own kitchen and eating place with their own foods. I remember once seeing a live goat being loaded onto the ship for a holiday the Pakistanis were about to have. It was to be sacrificed. I didn’t want to ask what happened, and we never saw that goat again. It was nice though that the ship tried to acknowledge most nationalities’ customs or requests.

Our mess consisted of large banquet tables and chairs, brightly lit, and a line for the buffet. The food was not anything to write home about. Each department (i.e., the gift shop) paid so much per day for each member in their department to eat. It seemed though that the chief steward, who was in charge of all the money given to him for the food for the crew, found that if he could feed all of us for less than what was allotted then he could pocket the rest, and that is exactly what he did.

The food was awful. The salad mixings and fruits that we were offered were the ones bruised and ready for the trash. There was always a choice of two entrées and a pasta dish. The vegetables would be in serving containers that had been sitting in hot water forever, so the vegetables were always mush. Then there were always French fries or, as the Brits say, chips. Thank goodness for those as the food got so bad my diet became whatever the pasta of the day was and French fries. Not too many carbohydrates! We used to laugh as once a week we had a night that we called organ donor night. The two entrées would be tongue and kidney or brain or some organ. Not among the favorites of the crew, but they were cheap and made the bottom line for the chief steward look good!

Some members began cooking in their cabins. It was not allowed due to fire hazards, but it did take place. One person was caught cooking on a heated iron! Another had a microwave that interfered with the radar system of the ship. We had a popcorn popper that we would hide. Candles were also not allowed. My neighbor had lit a candle in his room and accidentally fell asleep. The ship listed, and his cabin burned up. Fortunately, he was not hurt, and the fire was put out before we had to abandon the ship, but he was let go for obvious reasons.

There was a crew bar for all crew and an officers’ bar just for officers. The liquor and beer were extremely cheap, and it was a great place to hang out and relax. There was also an aft area of the ship where crew could go and hang out to get some fresh air. Crew parties were held here as the bar areas had poor ventilation. If you didn’t smoke, all you had to do was walk in and out of one of these bars, and you would have thought you’d have been smoking a hundred cigarettes by the way your hair and clothes would smell when you came out.

These areas were the social centers for the crew. I was lucky because I had privileges of being able to go upstairs in public areas to socialize with the passengers. Most of the crew members were not allowed upstairs or on deck other than what their jobs entailed, so the crew bar was the center of activity.

It was a privilege to be able to go upstairs; however, there were restrictions depending on how many stripes you had on your shoulder. I was a petty officer with one-half a stripe. That meant that the rules on this ship said that I was only allowed into certain bars and could not sit at the bar. I was not allowed to go to the movie theater. I could go to the production shows, but I had to sit all the way in the back on the sides, never in the middle section, and if there were too many people and not enough seats, then I had to leave. I was allowed to go to the hamburger bar up by the pool but only after a certain hour when the rush died down. I was not allowed to eat in any of the alternate restaurants, dining room, or any of the buffets. I was allowed to go into the pool only if there were not too many people in it. I was not allowed to lie next to the pool or in that area. If I wanted to sun, I always had to go up one level to another area or use the crew pool and that sun area. I was not allowed to use the passenger gym, only the crew gym, which really smelt like a sweatshop. I guess the biggest restriction that I felt was that I was not allowed to dance. If a passenger came and asked me to dance, I would have to say, No thank you, because I was not allowed. We then developed chair dancing in our swivel chairs. That was an alternative, but hey, these were the rules.

All in all, the crew bar was a better place for me to be. I could do anything there and not feel that someone was watching me. If people wanted to crawl home from the crew bar, there was no one there to say anything or to write them up. Three written warnings, and you were off the ship.

Drinks and cigarettes were extremely inexpensive. A drink was a dollar, and it was a real drink. Even though we received a 50 percent discount on all drinks that we bought upstairs, it was cheaper to drink in crew bar. We were able to buy cartons of cigarettes for $10, a case of beer for $12, and say a bottle of Stolichnaya vodka for about $3.50. Because so many of the crew did not have the privileges of socializing on decks, the crew bar became a major pastime for the crew. It is also why some members become alcoholics. That was all they had to do in their off time. The crew officer tried to organize social events that I shall go into later on in this book that were pizza nights, jazz night, dart games, karaoke, horse racing, etc., etc. The crew bar was a fun atmosphere where one could voice their problems of the day or their lives to friends and acquaintances and relax. It was our area.

The cast of characters there was amazing. There was the Norwegian storekeeper that would drink so much that he would fall asleep standing up at a pole in the middle of the bar. Then there was a Welsh radio officer that the more he drank, the faster he spoke, and you couldn’t understand a word he was saying even though we were both speaking English. He would talk, then he would laugh, and you would just laugh along as you had not a clue what he was talking or laughing about. Another officer was called the Virus, as no matter what he touched, somehow it got messed up or blown up. He was a nice guy, but his name suited him well. If you were eating, even peanuts at the bar, you would hope that he wouldn’t sit with you as he would always seem to spit food at you, and you would end up wearing whatever it was. No one would invite him to go ashore to eat a lunch or dinner, so he would just invite himself and come along. Then there was the guy that could drink fourteen black Russians, five sangrias, two gin and tonics, and three B52s within an evening and still be standing. I never saw anyone drink like that. He drank a lot, almost daily and was still able to perform his job. The crew bar was quite a colorful place.

In the crew bar, I was the new kid on the block, and everyone was hitting on me. It was great for the ego. It was interesting as everyone tries to test the waters to see what you are like and how far they could push. The Italians on this particular ship were my favorite group of people to sit with because they always were full of life, didn’t drink too much, and knew how to have good, clean fun. Most of them were people that in my normal everyday life I would never have met, or some were people that I would never have taken the time to meet, but here, life was different. You met all types of people from all walks of life. One Italian, Antonio, kept talking and making me laugh. I had just ended a five-year relationship in Hawaii, so the last thing I wanted was a new beau. However, Antonio did make me laugh, and that was all I wanted. He asked me to try him for a day, a week, or a month. Try it, you’ll like it! he used to say in that lovely broken Italian accent. He kept on for days. Finally, Mary Ann, my boss, told me she knew that he was married with a newborn son. So I told his roommate what I had found out. Immediately it went back to Antonio through the Italian grapevine. Within minutes, he appeared at the crew bar and asked me to wait while he went and showered as he had just gotten off work. Ten minutes later, he reappeared and threw a small photo album down in front of me saying, My wife, my son, etc. I asked why he had lied, and he replied that he didn’t think I would like him if I knew that he was married. I replied that I didn’t want to marry him. After all we were there for months at a time. I just wanted to have fun with him.

Whatever man, no matter what position he held on board, the ship would most likely tell you the same line, I’m not married. However, come to find out that a majority of the men had wives or women that had had their children and were at home. The week before it was time for their vacation men would go through something called channels. It was a phase that you went through to prepare oneself from leaving the ship and its life, to get ready to regroup with reality and the real family. It was amazing how people can lead two different lives, but they did.

Married men (which a majority of the straight ones were at that time) would sleep with a female crew member on the ship, and the female would expect the man to leave his land wife and kids for her, if she knew about them. I don’t think so.