October 26th
That week was beyond hectic. After being told I definitely had a job on the ship Ken asked whether I would be interested in photographing the world cruise. Of course I said yes but that meant I would be away for six months in a row. Seven days per week for six months - that was close to one hundred and eighty days without a day off. Could I put myself through that again?
The ships were two of the most exclusive ships in the world. They had an international crew and a wealthy American clientele. Eight years ago I worked for that cruise line and admittedly the ship was the best ship I ever worked on. I spent hours bouffant spotting. When I identified an ornate hair construction I could spend time transfixed. It was astounding the size of bouffant that can be made from thinning hair. Some were so ornate they resembled caramelised nests, others looked like wire mesh constructions created by a hair engineering genius. When photographing I always did my best to back light the gravity defying oddities to reveal the complexity of their construction, obviously those images were less likely to sell.
The memories were flooding back: Diamante visors, the gold lame and being asked ridiculous questions. ‘If there is a sperm whale is there also an egg whale?’
How did I forget? I must have suffered trauma and sectioned off those memories to a secluded vault in my mind.
My exhausted days onboard were spent in absolute fascination watching old couples in white shell suits strolling the decks with ‘his and hers’ written in gold brocade on their backs. Why did so many of the men choose to wear Captain’s caps, beige shorts, black socks and white deck shoes? Was it guest uniform? Oh God and what about fanny packs? They all had fanny packs and had no clue how funny that expression was to an English person!
When photographing the cocktail parties the photogs played the game of spot the ‘who hasn’t had plastic surgery.’ We developed a sign language to communicate our findings. We were always so amazed by the fact that so many clientele appeared as though they had suffered random incidents of G force. Or as my mum warned, ‘you’re face will stick like that when the wind changes.’ Well it seemed the wind had changed and at that precise moment of change each had suffered an expression of shock, horror and constipation. It was like visiting a human zoo or even a freak show. Admittedly the majority of guests were lovely people, even if they didn’t understand what I said.
‘Honey I love your accent, I just don’t know what you’re saying. Larry what she say?’
My goodness did I really want to return to that insane environment? Oh God… I just remembered… I accidentally fell over one of the guests who was about eighty. He was bending over in the corridor tying a tag on his suitcase. I wasn’t paying attention and basically walked straight into his posterior. What made it so awful was that he wore a leaopard skin thong. When he stood up he put his hands on his hips and said, ‘I bet you wanted to do that for a long while.’
Speechless and repulsed? Understatement!
What was I doing? Was I mad? What was I getting my self into?
Why leave lovely England, the country that has not had a summer for two years, whose population were evolving into amphibians?
The current economic climate was the worst it had been and in truth I wanted out. If I read another ‘credit crunch’ headline I would most definitely cry. I wanted to travel to warm, dreamy places. I liked the idea of floating around the world being paid and fed. I had to go… I had to accept the Larrys and Vinnys of the world and go. Stop thinking - just go!
October 27th
E-mail
‘The good news is you are on the World cruise the bad news is that you need four visas in two weeks. Oh and you need a medical.
Linda.’
What they didn’t mention was that each visa costs around sixty to seventy pounds. What kind of idiot shells that out before they even start work? It’s always the same, the crewing companies expect you to achieve the impossible. That week saw me arrange an American C1D1 Visa, An Australian crew visa, a Vietnamese Visa for the World cruise and fail to obtain a Chinese Visa. There just was not enough time. On top of that, that same week I received news that I had won a travel photography award with a major newspaper. Luckily the awards tied in with the visa acquisition and the medical. Kill every bird you can with a stiletto.
E-mail.
‘Dear Linda, I see that I have to get a medical. I notice the cost for the medical is three hundred and fifty pounds. Who is going to pay for this?’
Answer: ‘Each photographer is responsible for their own medical.’
I don’t think so!
Response: ‘Dear Linda, Ken did not advise me of this and since you expect me to spend on four visas to the sum of seventy pounds each and pay for my medical which makes a total of £630 plus train fares of eighty pounds per time (four times) you may well understand why I am reconsidering the position. The above for me is a deal breaker.
Kind Regards
Felicity.
Surely they need to employ an idiot! Who is willing to spend close to eight hundred pounds before they even start work? Can you imagine Marks and Spencers making such a demand of a new employee?
Two hours later: E-mail.
Dear Felicity,
Ken has advised me that we will pay for your medical but you will pay for your Visas and travel. We will send you a cheque. You will receive it in the next few days. We would like to remind you that we pay for your flights and hotels prior to joining the ship.
Regards Linda.
Well thank God I don’t have to take my own sleeping bag and tent!
Wednesday, 13 January 2010
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?
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?
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