Hub - The Tale of the Reluctant Chief Stewardess

The Tale of the Reluctant Chief Stewardess – AKA The Captain’s Wife

Ah, life on a 120ft yacht, where the sun shines, the sea glistens, and the Captain’s wife—let’s call her Madam Chief Stewardess—is onboard against her will. Why? Because the Captain, in his infinite wisdom (or paranoia), decided it was safer to drag her along rather than leave her at home where she might gasp become unfaithful.

Now, Madam didn’t actually want to be on the boat. In fact, the only thing she liked less than being on the boat was the concept of working on the boat. But that’s a small detail, right? So, to justify her presence—and her complete lack of interest in manual labor—the Captain bestowed upon her the glorious title of Purser. Because nothing says “qualified for leadership” like being the Captain’s spouse with zero motivation or skill. She will disappear all day to go provisioning and return to the boat past 7:00 pm with only two bags, one from Victoria Secret and another one from Sephora looking like she just took a shower and demanding dinner! You got the picture right! A real priority was to keep a permanent sun tan. She will have at least 30 bathing suits, one for each day of the month and if you sew all the bathing suits together you wouldn’t have enough material for a dinner napkin!

Madam quickly established her reign of laziness. Her first decree? Delegation. Why should she bother with actual work when she could just tell the crew what to do… poorly? Need provisions ordered? Don’t bother Madam with silly details like quantities or quality. Just hope the galley can survive on two lemons, three cans of tuna, and a bottle of rosé. (Priorities, right?)

As for paperwork? Oh, please. Let’s just say that Madam’s version of “managing finances” was closer to playing Monopoly. When she wasn’t doing the bare minimum, she was honing her skills in her true calling: being a general nuisance. Every complaint from the crew, every minor inconvenience, somehow spiraled into a full-blown crisis under Madam’s expert (read: utterly useless) guidance.

And let’s not forget her favorite pastime: making everyone miserable. Need some towels? “Why didn’t you ask me earlier?” Want help with a guest request? “I’m on a break, darling.” Meanwhile, the rest of the crew slaved away, picking up the slack from her endless stream of excuses and “emergencies” that involved absolutely no emergencies at all—unless you count chipped nail polish.

As the boat drifted through paradise, the crew wasn’t just sinking under waves of work—they were drowning in Madam’s inefficiency. But hey, at least the Captain didn’t have to worry about her cheating. Too bad he was oblivious to the fact that the real affair was happening between his wife and the yacht’s most comfortable lounge chair.

So, the next time you find yourself working on a luxury yacht, just pray the Purser isn’t also the Captain’s personal liability twenty years younger. Otherwise, you might be in for a trip where the real challenge isn’t navigating the ocean—but surviving Madam’s reign of lazy terror.