You know those days when you're driving home from the golf course, covered in tiny squirming leeches after having been scuba diving for golf balls in the absolute zero visibility/light ponds for an hour and a half, and a damned stupid turkey runs right out in front of your car?
What's that? You don't have those kind of days? Huh. Now that you mention it, it was a first for me as well.
The good news here is that a) the leeches seem rather disinterested in remaining attached to me and, b) the stupid damned turkey survived the encounter without a scratch and was last seen running at breakneck speed back and forth on the side of a small hill for no apparent reason, like the brainless creature it is.
Monday, July 28, 2008
Saturday, July 26, 2008
Accursed?
It's been a rather dismal week. Without going into too much details (which would probably depress me to see in writing), the following events have transpired. This week, I...
-smashed my knee on a rock while trying to help a scuba diving customer exit the beach when he shouldn't have
-lost a mooring ball in the depths of the harbor when in fact I was supposed to be doing the relatively simple job of replacing the chain
-thought I experienced my first scuba diving casualty, only to find out that the guy I was guiding had separated and decided to swim the whole rest of the way back to the beach without me. I thought he was dead on the bottom somewhere.
-woke up yesterday with the beginnings of a cold (which shouldn't happen, because I'm on a boat or underwater most days of the week!)
-woke up this morning with a full fledged cold, but still had to get up at 5:45am, put on my cold and wet wetsuit, and work as divemaster on a dive boat.
-and finally, I drove straight through a red light on a main street here in Monterey while in some kind of daze, but managed not to cause an accident. I was SO lucky not to hurt anyone else or myself, when it could have easily gone another way entirely.
After all this has transpired, I've found myself wondering if there's some cosmic lesson that I'm supposed to learn from all of this. Then, my good friend John-Paul provided a different perspective. He told me the story of a seemingly healthy middle aged man in the hospital he works at who has genetic health problems which, in all honesty, should have killed him long ago. Instead, the man has been bedridden for a year following a heart transplant. Despite all this, the man apparently maintains a cheerful disposition and routinely expresses his gratitude for the good things in his life. After that, what excuse do I have to bitch? A bum knee, head cold, nearly-dead customer...bah!
-smashed my knee on a rock while trying to help a scuba diving customer exit the beach when he shouldn't have
-lost a mooring ball in the depths of the harbor when in fact I was supposed to be doing the relatively simple job of replacing the chain
-thought I experienced my first scuba diving casualty, only to find out that the guy I was guiding had separated and decided to swim the whole rest of the way back to the beach without me. I thought he was dead on the bottom somewhere.
-woke up yesterday with the beginnings of a cold (which shouldn't happen, because I'm on a boat or underwater most days of the week!)
-woke up this morning with a full fledged cold, but still had to get up at 5:45am, put on my cold and wet wetsuit, and work as divemaster on a dive boat.
-and finally, I drove straight through a red light on a main street here in Monterey while in some kind of daze, but managed not to cause an accident. I was SO lucky not to hurt anyone else or myself, when it could have easily gone another way entirely.
After all this has transpired, I've found myself wondering if there's some cosmic lesson that I'm supposed to learn from all of this. Then, my good friend John-Paul provided a different perspective. He told me the story of a seemingly healthy middle aged man in the hospital he works at who has genetic health problems which, in all honesty, should have killed him long ago. Instead, the man has been bedridden for a year following a heart transplant. Despite all this, the man apparently maintains a cheerful disposition and routinely expresses his gratitude for the good things in his life. After that, what excuse do I have to bitch? A bum knee, head cold, nearly-dead customer...bah!
Sunday, July 20, 2008
As far as the eye can see!
This weekend, while working as Divemaster aboard a 2-tank dive boat in Monterey (the same one I've been on for several months now), I heard rumor of 60-80 feet of visibility at a few spots inside the bay. Seeing as how the report came from customers on one of the other boats, I thought to myself, "Yeah right. I'll bet it's 40 feet or so". Now don't get me wrong, 40 feet of horizontal visibility here in Central California is downright awesome, so that wouldn't be anything to complain about. However, I've seen how far off some people can be when it comes to estimating everything from the clarity of the water, to the temperature, so I tend to take most comments with a grain of salt. Regardless, when I heard talk of 80 feet of vis, I asked the captain if it'd be alright for me to dive. I don't often make this request, because I spend 10 or more hours a week underwater and get a little burnt out on getting wet. Man, am I glad I asked!
We dropped the anchor on a pinnacle called Ball Buster, the peak of which is about 50-70 feet (depending on tide). I quickly suited up, hopped in, and headed down the anchor chain.
My first thought was something along the lines of, "Well, looks like they were full of sh*t!". The water was a green haze, but still the visibility looked to be about 20 feet or so, which is just fine for me. Just a few moments later though, I broke through the upper layer and, there before me, was the ENTIRE pinnacle! 75 feet from where the anchor lay, I could not only see the anchor with clarity, but another 30 feet or so beyond! My first thought was that I must have somehow wound up in the tropics, which was quickly followed up by the realization that it was FAR too cold for that! I estimated it to be more than 100 feet of crystal clear visibility if it was an inch. Maybe even 110'.I could read the bloody label on the tank of the diver who had descended ahead of me, and he was on the far side of the pinnacle!
Whenever I dive from a boat upon which I am working, I like to keep it short and quick, so that I don't neglect my duties on board. Thus, I dashed around the pinnacle once or twice, pointed out an octopus to the first diver, and then headed back up to the boat (which was visible from the bottom). I have been training an enthusiastic new guy on the boat to work as deckhand and divemaster, and so when he asked me how it was after I climbed back on board, I said simply, "Get in the water. You won't believe me if I tell you, just get in. Now." He came back with the biggest eyes I've seen on a diver in a long time.
I've never seen, nor even heard of such incredible conditions in California (except perhaps down at the Channel Islands). It's times like these that remind me why I love diving, and the Pacific Ocean, so damned much. Though I try to deny it, my hearing seems to be getting worse these days. This may or may not be a result of diving, but today I was reminded yet again of the need to take full advantage of the time I have underwater, because opportunities like these are rare treasures indeed!
We dropped the anchor on a pinnacle called Ball Buster, the peak of which is about 50-70 feet (depending on tide). I quickly suited up, hopped in, and headed down the anchor chain.
My first thought was something along the lines of, "Well, looks like they were full of sh*t!". The water was a green haze, but still the visibility looked to be about 20 feet or so, which is just fine for me. Just a few moments later though, I broke through the upper layer and, there before me, was the ENTIRE pinnacle! 75 feet from where the anchor lay, I could not only see the anchor with clarity, but another 30 feet or so beyond! My first thought was that I must have somehow wound up in the tropics, which was quickly followed up by the realization that it was FAR too cold for that! I estimated it to be more than 100 feet of crystal clear visibility if it was an inch. Maybe even 110'.I could read the bloody label on the tank of the diver who had descended ahead of me, and he was on the far side of the pinnacle!
Whenever I dive from a boat upon which I am working, I like to keep it short and quick, so that I don't neglect my duties on board. Thus, I dashed around the pinnacle once or twice, pointed out an octopus to the first diver, and then headed back up to the boat (which was visible from the bottom). I have been training an enthusiastic new guy on the boat to work as deckhand and divemaster, and so when he asked me how it was after I climbed back on board, I said simply, "Get in the water. You won't believe me if I tell you, just get in. Now." He came back with the biggest eyes I've seen on a diver in a long time.
I've never seen, nor even heard of such incredible conditions in California (except perhaps down at the Channel Islands). It's times like these that remind me why I love diving, and the Pacific Ocean, so damned much. Though I try to deny it, my hearing seems to be getting worse these days. This may or may not be a result of diving, but today I was reminded yet again of the need to take full advantage of the time I have underwater, because opportunities like these are rare treasures indeed!
Friday, July 11, 2008
Moving on
I felt I needed some closure to the situation on the whale watching boat before I left the company. I spoke with the Captain yesterday and told him what I thought about the whole fiasco, as well as how I feel the deck crew was wronged by the end result. He essentially agreed, but made as if his hands were tied. That's crap, because he's the captain, but it's out of my hands. I then spoke with the owner this morning and basically gave him the same spiel, to which he responded in a way that makes me glad I'm leaving now, rather than later. It is obvious to me that the problem will persist, and so I thanked him for the opportunity to work for him and told him that I won't be available to work on his boat so long as the current "policy" regarding distribution of tips is in place.
Closure achieved. Just in talking to three of my other employers today, I've wracked up enough work to more than make up for the days I was spending on that boat. In the words of my good pal John-Paul:
See ya, wouldn't wanna be ya!
Closure achieved. Just in talking to three of my other employers today, I've wracked up enough work to more than make up for the days I was spending on that boat. In the words of my good pal John-Paul:
See ya, wouldn't wanna be ya!
Wednesday, July 09, 2008
Drawing a line in the sand
Two months ago, I wrote about my frustrations while working aboard a whale watching boat here in Monterey. At the time, I mentioned how our naturalist was taking all of the tips given by the customers at the end of each trip and not sharing them with any of the rest of the crew (one or two deckhands, plus the captain). This was not only unheard of in my experience, but unwarranted given that all of the crew working on the boat receive verbal praise from customers on a daily basis. I've mostly kept my mouth shut about the problem (which, I realize now, was foolish at best), but last week it all came to a head. After a brief confrontation between myself and the naturalist at the end of a trip (she took the cash which had been placed in a tip jar reserved for deck crew), a meeting was scheduled in order to establish a protocol for the collection and distribution of tips. That meeting took place this afternoon, and it was (in my opinion) and total disgrace.
I've worked on a number of boats at this point. Further, I have been talking to several more experienced deckhands and captains and every single one of them expressed their belief that the tips should be split fairly between all the crew, seeing as how the quality of the customers' experience depends on the entire crew. At any rate, the end result of this meeting was that the tips will now be split between the naturalist and the deckhands, but not the captain. Furthermore, the deckhands will split 25% of the tips, with the remaining 75% going to the naturalist.
I'm writing rather poorly at the moment because I'm so completely disappointed with the results of this meeting, for so many reasons. If this was just about taking more money home, I would have quit long ago. It's not. It's about encouraging the crew to work together for the benefit of the customers, and reaping any rewards/punishment that comes from their efforts. The result of this meeting basically implies that a) the naturalist is at least three times more valuable than any deckhand, b) the captain plays no role in customer satisfaction and, c) the customers aren't capable of deciding who is responsible for their pleasant trip.
Before I get myself worked up into a frothing rant, I'll simply say that, as a result of this gross failing of the owner and captain to take a stand against the tyrant naturalist and do what's right by the entire crew, I no longer feel it is appopriate for me to work with them.
On behalf of myself and my fellow hard working deckhands, I feel I've been left with just one recourse to take a stand for what is right: Thus, first thing tomorrow I will be informing them of my immediate departure from the company.
I've worked on a number of boats at this point. Further, I have been talking to several more experienced deckhands and captains and every single one of them expressed their belief that the tips should be split fairly between all the crew, seeing as how the quality of the customers' experience depends on the entire crew. At any rate, the end result of this meeting was that the tips will now be split between the naturalist and the deckhands, but not the captain. Furthermore, the deckhands will split 25% of the tips, with the remaining 75% going to the naturalist.
I'm writing rather poorly at the moment because I'm so completely disappointed with the results of this meeting, for so many reasons. If this was just about taking more money home, I would have quit long ago. It's not. It's about encouraging the crew to work together for the benefit of the customers, and reaping any rewards/punishment that comes from their efforts. The result of this meeting basically implies that a) the naturalist is at least three times more valuable than any deckhand, b) the captain plays no role in customer satisfaction and, c) the customers aren't capable of deciding who is responsible for their pleasant trip.
Before I get myself worked up into a frothing rant, I'll simply say that, as a result of this gross failing of the owner and captain to take a stand against the tyrant naturalist and do what's right by the entire crew, I no longer feel it is appopriate for me to work with them.
On behalf of myself and my fellow hard working deckhands, I feel I've been left with just one recourse to take a stand for what is right: Thus, first thing tomorrow I will be informing them of my immediate departure from the company.
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