Crew Focus in Mallorca
Diary of a Chief Officer: The Deck Daddy and Diplomacy Referee.
With Courtesy of Erica Lay & The Mallorca Bulletin. #25/1097.
Erica Lay owner of EL CREW International Yacht Crew Agency http://www.elcrewco.com/ erica@elcrewco.com
05:45 – Briefing & Bracing
Up before sunrise, armed with black coffee and a clipboard. I scan the day’s schedule, check the weather, and draft a mental apology for whatever the bosun’s about to do to my maintenance plan.
06:30 – The First Radio Call
The bosun’s already radioed twice—once for a missing deckie, once because a beanbag has exploded. I haven’t even made it to the bridge. I say “Copy that” in a tone that suggests I’m reconsidering every life choice I’ve ever made.
07:00 – Deck Walk & Damage Control
Walk the deck, spot three things no one reported, and one that was “definitely fixed yesterday.” Quietly fix one myself because it’s faster than paperwork. Consider whether it’s too early for ibuprofen.
08:00 – Meeting with the Captain
Update the Captain on logistics, crew morale, and whether our youngest deckhand is still learning knots from TikTok. Discuss the guest itinerary, rest hours, and the philosophical question of whether the AV system is ever truly working.
09:30 – HR Mediation Round 1
Get pulled into a stew–deckie argument about cleaning zones. One claims she was “emotionally steamrolled,” the other insists he “can’t be controlled by rotas.” I channel my inner therapist and suggest they go clean literally anything.
11:00 – Safety Check & Document Doom
Update the maintenance tracker, adjust ISM checklists, and attempt to decipher the engineer’s handwriting on a service log. It reads “left widget thingy squawked.” That’s fine. Normal. Chief Stew radios: guests want the Captain. Captain says, “Tell them I’m in a meeting.” He’s on the sun deck ranking guest shoes.
12:30 – Lunch? Allegedly
Grab a tray of salad and eat it at my desk while emailing the management company about crew certificates. Interrupted: “Sorry, but the boss says the sun’s in his eyes—can we reposition the yacht?” Naturally. Because the Earth’s axial tilt is clearly our fault.
14:00 – Tender Ops Supervision
Coordinate guest drop-off. Spot a deckhand docking the tender like he’s playing Mario Kart. Offer polite correction. Mentally scream. Recoil a line myself. Smile. Die inside.
15:00 – HR Mediation Round 2
Resolve a spat between the bosun and sous chef about who’s been yelled at more this week. Hand them both a cookie and say I’m proud. I’m not. But they looked like they needed it.
16:30 – Paperwork, Policies, and a Panic Drill
Update the muster list. Schedule a fire drill. Chief Stew asks if it’s “mandatory.” I ask if breathing is. The alarm goes off; one deckhand dives for cover. Not wrong energy, just misplaced.
18:00 – Guest Sundowners & Subtle Supervision
Guests out on deck. Beanbags arranged. Bosun twitching. I linger nearby in case someone takes a selfie on the rail again. Intercept a stew about to light a lantern with hairspray. Crisis averted. Guests ask what my role is. I reply, “Safety officer, personnel manager, spare tender driver, floating therapist, professional apologiser.”
20:00 – Bridge Watch & Existential Reflections
Radar purring. Radio quiet. I stare at the horizon, wondering if I’ve become the human embodiment of “Don’t Ask Me, Ask the Captain.” The Captain, naturally, is making cocktails for the guests.
22:00 – Night Rounds & Final Emails
Walk the deck one last time. Spot a loose line, a towel over a radar dome, and someone’s socks on the aft steps. Send polite-but-deadly emails. Schedule tomorrow’s crew meeting: “How Not to Touch Anything You Shouldn’t.”
23:00 – Lights Out. Chief Mode Off.
Fall into bed still wearing epaulettes. Drift off planning my retirement—somewhere quiet, no radios, no beanbags, and absolutely no crew.