Beneath the Surface - 18

November 12th Grand Cayman. In Port Manning.
I woke up early again this morning. I laid in the darkness listening to Marrissa breathing, she slept deeply. Silently I got changed in the dark and walked out into the bright corridor. While my eyes were adjusting to the light I accidentally collided with the chest of a rather attractive officer. He smelt lovely and I remained for a short time with my head buried in his chest. Woops! It was apparent that neither of us knew what to do so after what seemed like forever he broke the silence. ‘Good morning,’ he said.
‘Hi,’ I replied. ‘I’m new.’
Without looking him the eye I stepped back into the darkness of my cabin and closed the door. How cool was I? Needless to say that was probably one of the best starts to a day that I have ever had.


Training - Sparkle essentials.
Sparkle essentials training effectively taught you how to arse lick guests without making a mess. The prime example on the video was when a stewardess was asked where the lavatory was. Rather than point the direction, the stewardess escorted the passenger into the bathroom. ‘And ma’am would you like me to wipe your arse?’
Obviously she did not actually say that in the film but it was intimated.
It seemed I was developing an issue with servitude. I knew servitude was intrinsic to customer service and in many Asian countries it was believed that servitude was close to Godliness but there had to be boundaries. I worked with customer service in many other capacities and I believed in providing the best service - but there were limits. From that moment on everything that left my lips had to be considered; I was not allowed to be genuine. I had to sacrifice my ‘self’ in a false environment to appease the wealthy and their egos. Yes I had realised there was a certain level of politeness expected before I set foot on board but I had forgotten the level at which I had to ‘appear’. What’s more I had been lead to believe I was to be an independent photographer, not an arse-licking servant. Rather than churning out factory imagery I wanted my photographs to matter. I intended to create beautiful pictures that were something special. That was what I did - so why had that changed? Where was my incentive to create images of inspiration when I felt complete suppressed? What I had been lead to believe was contrary to how I was being treated. I had attempted to contact Ken but I assumed he was purposely not answering. Nothing would change unless he contacted Robert and advised him that I had been recruited for a specific role. Until then I was stuck! I had to make a decision: false or real? I had been mislead - decision made. I intended to remain true to myself - it was amazing what you could say as long as you said it with a smile.
‘Madam would you like someone to deal with your overly abundant facial follicles?’ Smile.
The response would be dazed, ‘oh how very considerate.’ Turning to her husband she would frown. ‘What she say?’
The husband would have an inkling but to avoid trouble would shrug.
I would not conform and follow the brain washing. I intended to talk to the passengers as equals. I was not lesser, so bollocks to being false. I would not curtail to that which I did not believe in. I would not be rude but if Ken didn’t like it then they could send me home!
During the training the tutor provided us with some rather interesting statistics.
The passengers who travelled on Sparkle were usually millionaires. In a recent survey it stated that the majority earned at least one hundred thousand dollars per year, a high proportion earned two hundred thousand and other half greater than two hundred thousand. Was it any wonder they holidayed on that ship? The company appealed to a certain ilk. In an environment that was essentially ‘keeping up appearances,’ the vacation became the perfect networking opportunity with those of a similar standing.
I found it interesting how the wealthy chose to pay a minimum of one thousand dollars per day to be there. Admittedly it was considered the best ship in the world and that in itself was the appeal. Still I had always assumed the wealthy did not squander money and felt that particular ship was excessive. There were so many better places to be at a much cheaper price. Still it was their choice and no doubt a certain ‘sort’ chose to cruise onboard.
With regard to the survey, many of the passengers were at the top of their field. From the previous night’s impression I have to say I really liked the majority of them. Most had integrity, dignity and class. Although one old bugger threw his camera at me when it didn’t work. ‘You’re a photographer fix this,’ he said as he threw it towards my head. Originally I had my back to him and noticed the object flying towards me through my peripheral vision. My reflex action kicked in and I jumped out of the way. The camera smashed on the floor. He glared at me at if it was my fault and then stormed off.
‘I’m so sorry, he’s not a very nice man and is used to getting his way,’ said his wife apologetically. I was confused, if he wasn’t a nice man then why had she chosen to marry him? Was it worth sacrificing happiness to live with and have sexual relations with a wealthy idiot? Her state of edginess revealed she had spent her married life serving him and justifying his actions. We all made choices and that unfortunately was hers.


My first port was spent ‘in prison’, I was not allowed to leave the ship so I utilised my two free hours and photographed around the ship. My intention was to create a series of lifestyle images for my various photographic-libraries. What’s more I hoped to make some good photo-documentary shots. If it wasn’t possible to make money as a photographer on board then I had to find other ways: i.e photograph ports and sell those images on library. My new goal was to travel around the world for free and sell my imagery on stock library. It was the perfect distraction from my reality and the perfect motivation. The itinerary was amazing so anything was possible.

That evening, after talking to a few of stewardesses it became apparent that over-work was common place on that cruise line, actually on all cruise lines. From what I had learnt, the hours of work were unrealistic, and in my opinion were inhumane. When your manager let slip that he had worked so many hours that he passed out in the shower; it is apparent there was something fundamentally wrong with the system. When he came round he found himself wrapped in a towel and lying on a bed in the medical centre. It turned out his cabin steward had found him collapsed on the floor of the shower cubicle.