I work on a cruise ship. Our pay is put onto prepaid debit cards specifically designed for seafaring crews. Right after the global health crisis, I tried ordering a laptop from eBay using my work card, but the card was declined. I tried making the same order on the computer company’s website, but I got the same result.

When I contacted the company that runs the card, they claimed that sites like eBay, [Computer Company], etc., are “shady” and “fraudulent” sites. They also claimed that for [Major Lingerie/Underwear Brand], so my colleague couldn’t order anything from them, either.

If there was any other way for me to get my pay, I’d drop them in a heartbeat.

I manage a department on a cruise line. We have to go above and beyond for our customers, often to the point of ridiculousness; that’s kind of expected in this industry. This does mean that, within reason, we take a bit more flak from guests than the average service worker, but as a manager, I get to define what the boundaries are.

There are countless processes and procedures for working and maintaining large cruise ships, and I would bore you all senseless if I tried to explain them in this story, so it’s been edited for brevity and sanity.

It’s embarkation day, and the ship is a flurry of activity as guests board and hundreds of staff are guiding the guests around, delivering luggage, and generally doing all we can to ensure we depart on time.

I can see one of my guest relation officers experiencing some issues with an older couple. I hurry over.

Male Guest: “Can you not speak English?”

Guest Relations: “Yes, sir, I am fluent. As I was trying to explain, all guests are expected to—”

Male Guest: “I guess you can’t speak good English if you have ‘expectations’ of us. It’s us who have expectations of you, and don’t you forget it.”

Female Guest: “We paid a lot of money to be here, whereas you get to be here for free. You should be grateful you get to be in our country.”

I can see that my guest relations officer is having a tough time. She is from the Philippines, so she has a very slight accent, but her English is impeccable; it has to be for her to hold the position she’s in. I decide to take over, all smiles.

Me: “Hi there. I’m the guest relations manager. Is there anything I can do to help your boarding?”

Male Guest: “Yeah! This little girl here thinks she can tell us we have to be somewhere at some time! That’s unacceptable! We’re the guests, and we’re the ones that have to tell you what to do!”

Me: “I understand, but please note that all five-thousand-plus guests must report to their designated muster stations for a safety briefing before we can depart. It’s a legal requirement from the Port Of Miami — and from our insurers. It’s not something we can skip, I’m afraid. This was explained in your confirmation email—”

Female Guest: “We paid a lot of money to be here!”

She’s parroting that line again. Does she think it means something else?

Me: “Yes, ma’am, but every guest, regardless of their package, has to report to their muster station for a safety briefing. It only takes fifteen minutes, and you’ll be able to enjoy the rest of your cruise uninterrupted immediately afterward.”

Male Guest: “Where are you from?”

Me: “I am local to Miami, sir.”

Male Guest: “That’s not what I asked, boy. Where are you from?”

Me: “I was born in California, sir.”

Male Guest: *Squinting* “But you’re the same color as her! I guess they didn’t teach you good English, either. Let me say it clearer. We tell you what to do. You don’t tell us what to do. Clear?”

Me: “Yes, sir.”

They get directions to their cabin from me and off they go. This is going to be an issue and is a legal requirement, but I’ve done my job, and now I have to report them to my manager in turn. Their attitude is going to become their problem.

Something must be sorted out because halfway through the cruise, as we’re docked at a Caribbean island, I see the couple disembarking to explore the local town. I am set up at a desk that’s just outside the ship, on the jetty, explaining to guests what time the ship disembarks.

Me: *To another guest* “Please note that the ship leaves at six sharp, and you’re advised to aim to be back on board at least an hour before this time to count for any delays on your return to the ship.”

All the guests so far have been understanding of this; obviously, a 225,000-ton vessel has a schedule to keep! Then, that same couple from before passes me. Before I can say anything, they speak up.

Female Guest: “Look, honey, his English has gotten worse. He’s still telling paying guests what to do!”

Male Guest: “You’re right! I guess we’ll have to have another talk with his manager when we get back on board. He says he’s from California, but his parents must have taught him some weird dialect.”

I simply smile at them as they pass. There’s no point in giving information out to guests who refuse to hear it.

The day proceeds without incident, and as we approach six that evening the last few guests are running back onto the ship. (There are always a few.)

At 18:05, I am going over the final list with my staff, and guess who isn’t back yet?

Guest Relations Officer: “Shall I call [Port Office] and let them know we’re missing two passengers?”

Me: “Yes. We’ll follow the procedure. Tell them we’ll prepare to disembark as usual, but we’ll leave this door open for another fifteen minutes to give them every opportunity. Get all this packed up and back on board.”

Fifteen minutes come and go as we pack up our tables and gear, and I finally have to close the door. Technically, the ship will stay in place for a few more minutes as some technical checks are made, and I could theoretically open the door again if the passengers made a last-minute appearance up until the captain gives the final order. As the manager down here, it’s my call.

Guest Relations Officer: *On the phone, but talking to me* “It’s [Port Office]. They say that our guests have just pulled up to the front and are arguing with them. They’re estimating they’re about fifteen minutes away from us. What shall I tell them?”

I go over to the phone and take over.

Me: “Please tell the guests we can’t speak English.”

And with that, I hung up. The already-too-late ship departed at speed to make up the schedule. 

I guess I just couldn’t understand their dialect of racism?

For my mother- and father-in-law’s thirtieth anniversary, my husband and his siblings all chipped in to get them a seven-day cruise in a nice room with a balcony — very expensive! The kids have always had a rough relationship with their mother, but now that everyone has moved out, she has been more invested in staying connected.

Mother-In-Law: “This is wonderful! I can’t wait!”

Father-In-Law: “Thank you all.”

[Mother-In-Law] walks off, already on her phone.

Mother-In-Law: “Yes, a cruise! How sweet of them.” *Pauses* “Oh I don’t think that’s a problem. Let me see. [Father-In-Law], what do you think about [Woman] coming on the cruise?”

Father-In-Law: “Sure. That’s fine.”

Mother-In-Law: “What do you guys think?”

The kids all nod, not knowing who this woman is.

Mother-In-Law: “Great!”

We all leave, happy that they are happy. A few weeks before the cruise, [Mother-In-Law] sends a mass text to everyone involved in purchasing her cruise ticket.

Mother-In-Law: “[Woman] wants to know what her room number is.”

Sibling #1: “It probably isn’t assigned yet.”

Mother-In-Law: “Oh, okay. She is so excited! She’s bringing her kids and her parents.”

Husband: “We’re glad you’re going to have fun!”

On the day of the cruise, there’s another text from [Mother-In-Law]. 

Mother-In-Law: “They can’t find [Woman]’s reservation. What is the confirmation number?”

Sibling #2: “It should be in the email.”

Mother-In-Law: “What email?”

Sibling #2: “From the cruise line.”

Mother-In-Law: “She never got one.”

Husband: “When did she book?”

Mother-In-Law: “It was whenever you booked for her.”

Sibling #1: “Why would we do that?”

Husband: “We aren’t paying for a whole random family to go on a cruise. You’re joking.”

[Mother-In-Law] calls [Husband]. 

Mother-In-Law: “I asked if they could come along, and you all said yes!”

Husband: “…Because they can go, but we aren’t paying for it. We never said we would, and you never asked in the first place.”

Mother-In-Law: “This is so embarrassing. I was trying to take my friend on a nice, relaxing trip, and now she can’t go?!”

Husband: “I don’t know what to tell you, Mom. We never said we would pay for them.”

Mother-In-Law: “This is ridiculous!”

She hung up. Her friend and family could not get on the cruise because it was all booked.

That was the last time my husband and his siblings did anything nice for his parents. [Father-In-Law] was grateful for the vacation, though he was stuck on a boat with an ungrateful woman for a week. They divorced a few years later.

Fifteen years ago, I took a Safety At Sea course while working on a passenger ship. Our instructor was going over various codes that could be announced over the PA system in cases of emergency — not the ones aimed at the passengers, but the ones alerting the crew to assemble at their stations. One of these was the code for a ship-wide search. Usually, this meant a missing person, like a lost child, but it could be anything, including bombs. And then he told us this story, which I have never forgotten.

The instructor was doing a refresher course on safety on a large cruise ship which (obviously) was otherwise unidentified. This course featured a lot of practical exercises, including a bomb search. The crew was assembled at their stations and told they were to search for explosives, which in actuality was just a box with the word “bomb” written on it. And off they went to search every nook and cranny of their designated area.

What the crew didn’t know was that the instructor had decided to add a second, more realistic “bomb”, which he had made in his cabin. It was nothing dangerous, just some wooden rods held together with tape and some electrical wires sticking out on one side — your typical action movie bomb. It sat on his desk for several days once he’d assembled it, and he hid it in a completely different location than the other one. The intended lesson was that when searching for dangerous objects such as these, you can’t stop after finding just one.

When the first “bomb” was found and brought to him, he asked the crew to keep searching because they needed to be sure there was only one aboard. And so he waited for the second one to be found. And waited. And waited.

After the crew had all done a very thorough search of the ship, they reported that they were sure there was nothing more to be found. The instructor was confused but accepted it. He’d done the rounds during the searches, and there was no reason to believe they’d been anything but thorough. He headed back to his cabin, intending to collect his more realistic prop later.

It was sitting on his desk. It turned out that he’d hidden the prop in the section assigned to the housekeeper who vacuumed his room. She’d recognised it and promptly returned it to his room. It was certainly an unexpected outcome, but at least he knew it had been found!

I was mostly a witness to the first half of this story, and I was directly involved in the second half.

I’m on a cruise, and I come up to the pool. There’s a water volleyball game going on that looks like it’s in its final round. One guy in the pool (who I’ll call “Mr. D”) is a tall, large fellow who is being annoyingly abrasive. One of my friends who has been up here for the game fills me in that smack talk is allowed, but Mr. D has been overdoing it, and my friend and others around are talking about how done they are with how annoying he is.

Mr. D’s team wins, which he exults in, and the game is over. The host asks Mr. D to introduce himself for all the smack talk he did, which he does. 

Host: *On a microphone* “Allow me to introduce Mr. D, our champion trash-talker.”

There’s slight applause.

Host: “Now, that does it for our game. Stick around for our men’s sexy legs competition! We will need about ten men to compete and four ladies to be judges.”

With a little prodding, I volunteer to be a judge in this contest. I am led to the stage where I sit down on a chair and watch as the host rounds up men for this contest. 

Host: “We now have ten contestants for our competition, and we will no longer be taking volunteers. The show will begin in five minutes!”

The host and his assistant are rounding up the volunteers and prepping them for the competition. A minute later, Mr. D strides up to the host and starts chatting. I can’t hear what’s being said, but Mr. D is getting louder and more animated. Finally, the host returns to the stage.

Host: “Ladies and gentlemen, we will be starting our sexy legs competition shortly, and allow me to introduce our special guest who just got added to the roster, Mr. D!”

I inwardly groan as this guy struts up to the group of guys, ready for the competition. All the other volunteers look like they’re here for the fun, while Mr. D looks like he’s taking it entirely seriously.

The competition begins with the men crossing in front of the stage and pool, doing silly poses, and showing off their legs. It’s all in good fun, even though Mr. D reminds me of a rooster as he parades in front of the judges.

Then, in an interesting turn of events, the host turns to the audience, where a group of people has gathered near the stage to watch. The host walks up to a woman who’s at the front of the audience.

Host: “Well, ma’am, it looks like you’re enjoying this competition.”

Lady: “You bet!”

Host: “However, as great as these guys are, not all of them can make it to the next round. Which of our contestants do you think should not make it to the next round?”

Lady: *Without skipping a beat* “Mr. D!”

Host: “Mr. D? Why did you pick him?”

Lady: “Because this is the sexy legs competition.”

Thoroughly defeated, Mr. D took his cue and left, his walk definitely showing that he had felt this rejection. All of us judges burst out laughing and applauding, but we were also a little jealous that this random lady got to say what we all wanted to.