The Great Superyacht Salary Discount
#26/0362. By Chef Raffie.
THE GREAT SUPERYACHT SALARY DISCOUNT
When Billionaire Dreams Meet Dollar-Store Crew Budgets
Where the yachts keep getting bigger, the expectations keep getting higher, and the salaries are apparently traveling in the opposite direction.
I have recently been reading some fascinating crew advertisements. And after more than three decades in this industry, I have arrived at a disturbing conclusion:
Some people can afford to buy a yacht, but apparently cannot afford the people required to operate the fucking thing.
Let’s begin with a magnificent 47-meter explorer yacht offering €6,000 a month.
The owner wants a female chef with proven experience on yachts over 40 meters, knowledge of Chinese, Asian, South American, and Mediterranean cuisine, exceptional provisioning skills, and experience navigating the Arctic and Pacific Oceans and why not, Samba dance instructor to be able to teach guests on board by the time the vessel arrives in Brazil for Carnaval festivities 2027 Naturally!
Why hire a chef when you can recruit a combination of Joël Robuchon, Marco Polo, Captain Cook, and a Chinese grandmother who makes exceptional dumplings?
All conveniently packaged into one woman.
And the leave arrangements? Not specified. How romantic!
Apparently, the itinerary is more important than knowing when the employee might see her family again.
The advertisement proudly announces an extensive international explorer program.
Unfortunately, you cannot pay your mortgage with photographs of penguins.
And before someone misunderstands me, the nationality of the owner is irrelevant. Chinese, American, European, or Martian—the same principle applies:
If you can afford to explore the Arctic, you should be able to afford to pay a dignified chef salary.
Then we have another spectacular opportunity.
A temporary cook and watchkeeper. €275 per day.
Cooking meals, standing watches, including night watches, and helping move a yacht from Naples to Barcelona.
Apparently, the chef now comes with a complimentary navigation department.
Perhaps next season we can introduce a new position:
CHEF / CAPTAIN
ENGINEER / STEWARDESS / PART-TIME WATCH KEEPER.
Salary negotiable, depending on how desperate you are. But wait!
The masterpiece has arrived.
A 60-meter-plus sailing yacht crossing the Atlantic, offering €250 per day for a temporary chef.
Eleven crew members. Healthy homemade meals. Provisioning before departure. Ships Cook Certificate. Food Hygiene Level 3.
And naturally, the chef must be ready to disappear into the Atlantic Ocean for almost a month. For €250 a day.
Not necessarily an outrageous number for every temporary assignment, but let’s discuss what it represents when you combine professional qualifications, preparation, ocean-crossing responsibilities, personal disruption, and the absence of ordinary shore-side freedom.
Because crossing the Atlantic is not exactly commuting to your neighborhood Olive Garden.
You cannot simply announce:
“Captain, I have decided to resign. Please drop me at the next Starbucks.”
You are in the middle of the Atlantic ocean.
Your family, your commitments, your personal life, and your other professional opportunities are all waiting on the other side.
And somehow, this is marketed as a wonderful adventure.
Adventure is what you offer tourists. Compensation is what you owe professionals.
Meanwhile, I recently encountered a young Tanzanian seaman offering to work for FREE just to obtain sea time. Think about that.
A young man willing to surrender his labor because entering this industry has become so difficult.
I do not ridicule him. I admire his determination.
But I seriously question an industry where desperation risks becoming a competitive advantage.
Because when someone offers to work for nothing, there will always be somebody willing to pay exactly that.
And then comes another experienced chef, with ten years of pizza and baking experience, advertising himself as available immediately.
Nothing wrong with that whatsoever.
But it illustrates how crowded and competitive this marketplace has become.
Experienced professionals searching for opportunities. Newcomers offering free labor. Temporary salaries under pressure.
And somewhere in a beautifully decorated management office, somebody is probably celebrating:
“Excellent news! We have reduced our crew expenses!”
Congratulations!
Perhaps next year you can replace the chef with an air fryer and the now popular Stew cook.
When did professional experience become an inconvenience rather than an asset?
When did crew agencies become so comfortable advertising extraordinary requirements without equally extraordinary discussions about compensation?
Why are some yacht management companies so concerned about the owner’s operational budget but apparently less concerned about the human beings making that lifestyle possible?
And why do we keep celebrating the luxury of the vessel while negotiating the dignity of the people working aboard it?
A chef is not merely somebody who throws chicken into an oven.
A competent yacht chef protects food safety, manages provisioning budgets, accommodates dietary requirements, maintains morale, and feeds the very people responsible for operating a multimillion-dollar vessel safely.
Try crossing the Atlantic with eleven hungry, miserable crew members.
Let’s see how magnificent your luxury program feels after the fourth consecutive dinner of canned tuna and emotional damage.
To be fair, not every yacht pays poorly. Not every €250 daily assignment is exploitation. Some programs offer reasonable compensation, proper working conditions, and genuine respect.
And thank God for those owners, captains, and management companies.
But the others?
Your moral compass isn’t pointing south anymore. It’s somewhere underneath the Titanic.
The industry keeps demanding loyalty, longevity, flexibility, professionalism, certifications, international experience, and the ability to perform miracles.
Perhaps it’s time we demand something equally extraordinary from employers.
FAIR COMPENSATION. CLEAR CONTRACTS. RESPECT.
And to those who believe that owning a luxury yacht automatically entitles them to discounted human beings, I offer one humble suggestion:
If you cannot afford to operate the yacht properly…
DON’T BUY THE FREAKING YACHT!
Buy a kayak.
It’s cheaper, environmentally friendly, and you can prepare your own sandwiches.
But here is something even more disturbing. When you continuously drive salaries into the basement, you risk driving qualified professionals out of the industry while attracting applicants whose credentials, judgment, and backgrounds deserve a little more investigation than a quick Zoom interview. And please, don’t misunderstand me: a low salary doesn’t make someone a criminal. But cutting corners on recruitment, background checks, and experience can turn a luxury yacht into a floating psychological thriller. Personally, the last thing I want after a twelve-hour shift in the galley is to discover that my new cabin mate is Anton Chigurh from No Country for Old Men, sitting on the lower bunk, polishing his cattle gun, and asking me to call a coin toss to determine who gets the top bunk. Heads, you get the bed. Tails, you become tomorrow’s crew special. Jesus Christ! I signed up to cook, not to audition for a Coen Brothers movie in the middle of the Atlantic!
By Chef Raffie
Cooking Was the Easy Part