Beneath the surface2

AUGUST
The sales pitch.
It was in Greenwich, London that I agreed to meet with Ken the owner of a photography company that supplied bespoke photographic services to cruise lines. I worked with this man eight years ago. He is around fifty, balding and the kind of man verbally retouches reality. Most of the spiel that tumbles from his lips is glorified, exaggerated and quite simply perfume-tainted crap. I always wondered whether he had a forked tongue. The problem was that people bought into it and that included me.
Through the grapevine Ken had heard that I was considering returning to the sea. He had researched and learned that I had recently won numerous photography awards for travel photography. The dollar sign pinged in his pupil- he could use it. Urgently he arranged a meeting with me to discuss his new product. The image he sold me during the three hour long phone monologues was spectacular: the beauty of working on the most luxurious cruise ship in the world and being able to photograph landscapes to my hearts content. The sales pitch was incredible; his company intended to sell my travel imagery exclusively to the wealthy. The product he intended to sell was better than any of the standard ship’s photography found on other ships. I could lecture and I could hold seminars, ‘how to make your holiday pictures better.’ The Cruise Director would interview me on cruise TV. What’s more my photography awards made me an attractive option, teamed with the fact I had previously worked on ships. Apparently I would know exactly what to expect. It was all lies.
Ken and I met at a hotel he ‘frequented.’ We found ourselves a comfortable seat in one of the conference rooms, drank the coffee and ate the croissants. He proudly showed me the product, a large album of world travel pictures.
‘It starts at one thousand four hundred dollars. We put your pictures into the book and the guests take it away with them as a bespoke memory of their holiday.’
Who pays that kind of money for memories photographed by someone else? My expression was revealing.
‘The people on the ship are loaded; they want to spend on something exclusive,’ he argued.
It didn’t ring true. I had a niggling feeling in my stomach, I felt unsettled.
‘Ken are you staying at this hotel?’
‘Nope,’ was his answer.
Then why were we there? Why were we eating their food? I glanced at my coffee and croissants. I had just walked into a hotel and helped myself because I was lead to believe that Ken was staying there. So where was he staying? How did he have the audacity to do such a thing?
‘So the guys on the ship are all thanking me each and everyday. You will earn close to four thousand dollars per month. The pound is dropping against the dollar too. You really could get some savings together. One of the managers made ten thousand in a month, can you imagine? He is soooooooooo happy. He constantly tells me how amazing his life is on board. He constantly e-mails me to say thank you.’
Alarm bells.
‘You know he gave up his business and says he never made a better decision in his life.’
Alarm bells again.

‘He says oh Ken I’m so happy! I love the job, I love the ship and we are making so much money. It is just so amazing! Thank you!’
The bullshit was so deep he was swimming in it; it seemed he believed it too. Still the image of the ship sailing in warm waters and beautiful sunsets was appealing. As much as every alarm bell rang through my mind, the image of turquoise waters and warm climates muffled the sound and I fell for it.
When it came to lunch time Ken made a swift exit. ‘I have to get on the road, you know how it is. I have to get back to Manchester. We’ll do lunch another time.’
In a matter of moments he gathered up his belongings and left.
‘So I have you down to leave on November 9th. I’ll be in touch,’ he said.
I stood there dumbfounded. Did I say yes? I had to take the opportunity didn’t I? Who wouldn’t?
Why didn’t I listen to my intuition?

NOTE:
In October the British and American financial systems crashed. The stock market was in disarray and repercussions were felt all over the world. What better time to leave England and take a chance on this major opportunity? Who wouldn’t? I remembered all the fun times I had had on ships and had mentally erased the crap. It had to be good didn’t it?