“Fuck you all” she slurred, slapping her fisted forearm with the back of her other hand. “That’s how I roll.” Seconds earlier Katie, our somewhat erratic chief stewardess, announced she had resigned. Her timing, during dinner service for eight guests of the season’s first charter, was less than ideal. “That’ll teach him.” A few days earlier our captain had told her she better “pull her head in” and change her back-chatting attitude if she wanted to stay working on the boat. It took her by surprise. She had taken to giving herself an extra break each day in the hour or so before lunch, which wasn’t sitting very well with second stew Ange. Queue Ange, who had words about this to the captain, and let the meltdown brew. Nobody knew that in the weeks beforehand, Katie’s boyfriend had given her the boot. Then came the hated late shift. Take one drink with the owner and a tendency to turn to alcohol when things get too much, wake up hungover and ta-da - meltdown. Katie decided to confront Barry. He told her to talk to the girls. Nasty “fuck you bitch” words were exchanged between Ange and Katie, tears shed, resignation given. Emerging red-eyed at the end of dinner service she tells us “I’m not allowed to leave.” Come morning, the meltdown is not mentioned and we go back to work as if nothing had happened. No apology, just an overly-helpful approach to the day and the admission that “nobody can punish me more than myself”. Great. My brother’s words of warning about crew politics and crazy chief stewardesses have certainly rung true.
