Beneath the surface 19

Later that same evening, while the gallery was quiet Jose and Robert sat me down and revealed all manner of gossip about the previous managers and the shipping line. Sexual harassment, unfair dismissals and conflict...
‘You will hear rumours all around the ship,’ said Robert swigging his whisky. ‘They hate Ken here because he is a pervert,’ he whispered.
Robert glanced at Jose and smirked, ‘you know what he said when he employed Marrissa?’
I shook my head.
‘I have a nice bit of totty for you. She is a buxom Brazillian with big breasts. So now you get an idea of what you are working with. She does not speak English, she is not a photographer so why else employ her? Her tits got her the job.’
An expression of bewilderment graced my face. What had been said about me? I did not ask. I did not want to know. I was not the breast display sort, I was a photographer who worked hard and had worked in a male environments. Sometimes the guys got so used to being around me they forgot I was a woman.
‘Of all the managers Norman is his favourite. He is an arse-licker who comes up with every excuse not to work.’
Jose’s face flushed red, ‘I hate him. I would kill him! He was so unfair. He never turned up for work and left us to it. He would steal our crew cards so we couldn’t leave the ship. We only found out that morning. There was nothing we could do about it either. I tried to complain but it was the old boy’s club and nothing got done!’
Jose shook his head and his expression revealed a bitter taste in his mouth. ‘You see what you are up against? They lie. I have been here six months and I was extended. I have two months left and never again. That is it! Never!!!’ he said with passion.
I folded my arms.
Robert leant forwards and linked his hands. ‘You will work your arse off for nothing Felicity. That is the truth. So my advice to you is have fun - get laid, get pissed but get the work done. Wallow in your escapism - it will get you through. This is like a luxury working prison - accept it and do what you need to do.’
Jose stroked his chin and glanced at Robert. ‘Robert here is the best manager. One of the others, who you might meet was having sex with two of the team. He slowly turned them against each other. He has a wife and a long term girlfriend on board. What’s more he got away with it. He has no morals and I hate him. I hate the way the ship’s keep their sordid secrets and all those wives on land think their little sailor husbands are alone and lonely. I want to film them going to their brothels in port and play it on the net. I want the world to know the truth! Soddom on the sea is what this place is.’
Jose was Columbian, he must have been Catholic - he was already pointing out what I had noticed - floating Sodom and Gomorrah. All the deadly sins were present and accepted. What’s more the scandal was kept onboard, away from the world outside.
Robert unfolded a piece of paper and handed it to me. ‘These are you priviledges, you are allowed to visit the shops and that is about it. You can be invited to eat with an officer in the restaurant but that is only on a rare occasion. You see here - Manager and Assistant Manager are the only ones with deck privileges and access to the passenger gym. You see your name here - you are of no rank and remain at the bottom of the hierarchy. Felicity there have been some comments about you acting above your station already. So to make my life simple please follow the rules otherwise we will have to discipline you and decrease your port time.’

My heart was beating in my chest. What were they doing? Did they have an agenda? And how come it took both of them to sit me down? I only had two months before being transferred to the sister ship for the world cruise. Were they trying to stop me going? Or were they setting me up to resign? I had no clue.How could you take anything seriously when the owner of the company had blatantly lied to the whole team? The lack of privilege and the gossip had already begun.

Jose patted me on the shoulder, ‘you are here Felicity - you must accept it. We are the good guys. We were both lied to as well - we were all in the same boat.’

There was no escape, I simply had to stay below the surface unless I was working. What else could I do? I intended to photograph behind the scenes, the more shit I was given - the better the writing and the greater the incentive to reveal the truth about the living conditions.
‘You can return to the gallery now Felicity. I hope we have helped and made ourselves clear,’ said Robert.

Later that evening Robert emerged from his office fuming. The conflict between Ken and him was growing by day. Rather than say anything he paced the gallery with his fists clenched and his shoulders rigid. While Robert paced Jose explained that Ken had sent Robert some e-mails. Something in those e-mails had seriously pissed him off. Jose sent me to the bar to get some drinks. While I was there I chatted to the bar staff. One of the bar waitresses mentioned she knew ‘Ken the a pervert.’
It was true no-one respected him and it seemed he lied to everyone including himself. Why hadn’t I listened to my intuition? Why had a been caught up in the ‘dream?’
At nine o’clock the gallery became quiet, there were no guests around so I took my opportunity to write in my note book. How could I explain what I saw? The gallery spanned the length of a giant lounge. Thousands of pictures adorned the walls awaiting the guest’s approval, yet hardly anyone had passed by. To my left five hundred red velvet seats formed a circle around a dance floor. No one single passenger. Silence.
While I wrote my mind digested what Jose and Robert had said. It was analysing and searching for their agenda. The problem within being trapped in a confined space was your ability to objectively assess a situation was tainted. It was almost impossible to think clearly; I was trying to work out a vast expanse from the confines of a cage. What’s more I could not judge the situation based on other people’s experiences. Other people’s opinions were dangerous - they tainted your mind with their personal effluvia. Other people's experiences were simply that: their experiences. They were not mine and I had to keep separate: I had to generate my own opinions. Were they telling me horror stories to make me stay? If so that was pretty odd. None of it made sense. One thing was for certain I would only work that contract on ships. It would allow me enough time to write this diary and would remind me never to come back.
I glanced up from my notebook; Marrissa was motionless and simply staring into space - just doing nothing. She had managed to maintain that position for most of the evening. Was she sleeping standing up? What was she thinking about? Jose came out of the darkroom and glanced down the empty gallery. ‘No custom then?’
I shook my head. After all that work we had endured the previous night and it seemed the guests weren’t interested in buying the pictures. Maybe Robert was right. We were going to work our arses off for nothing.
‘What are you writing Felicity?’ asked Jose in his unique accent.
‘A diary to remind me of ship life when I finish the contract. I intend for this to be my last contract,’ I replied. There was no point lying.
‘If you feel weak and decide to go back on a ship call me. I will shoot you,’ he said matter of factly.
‘Nice, very nice,’ said Marrissa, without shifting her gaze.
The rest of the hours in the gallery were spent in the same manner: an empty gallery, limited vocabulary and no money being made. Maybe Robert hadn’t exaggerated.