It’s a Wednesday afternoon in April 2007 and I’m on one of my most arduous business trips. I’ve been at this career now for about four years and have had some tough groups. Some of them in rough locations. Once, I spoke to a bunch of factory line managers in a filthy break room. I hung my flip charts on a Coke machine.
But this is different. I’m working with a group of government contracting supervisors on a Royal Caribbean cruise. It’s not arduous at all. But. If I didn’t start the story that way, you might not believe me now.
The group contacted me a few months before. They wanted to know if I’d be willing to accompany them on a cruise and do some training. That would justify it as a business/teambuilding trip.
When I asked how much time they needed me for, they told me a half day. I pushed back. It wasn’t worth it for me to take five days off and get paid for one.
But they insisted I come along.
“We’ll pay your daily rate for all five days, plus your accommodations and travel, and if you like, you can bring your wife along.”
Now it was sounding better! I told Barb and she was excited.
For a day or so.
Then she realized she couldn’t make the trip. Too many work commitments. She was still on active duty in the Navy.
So, I decide to take one for the team and go by myself. In my defense, my wife told me to go. I think she visualized that big check I’d be bringing in.
I had been on a cruise decades before on my honeymoon with my first wife. It was in 1985. I just remember a bunch of old people on it playing shuffleboard.
This was different. First, it was right during Spring break season. 2/3 of the passengers were college kids, partying with their parent’s money.
FYI: If your college-aged kids ask you for money to go on a cruise on Spring break, I recommend your answer be: FUCK NO!!
I won’t tell you what I saw, but trust me, just say no.
Second, it was a lot more modern than the ship I was on in 1985. And we would be visiting different ports.
I don’t have my group until Thursday morning, so on this Wednesday afternoon, I am lying on a lounge chair, reading Jack Canfield’s The Success Principles and listening to the DJ down below on the pool deck spinning reggae songs.
I notice people getting up out of their lounge chairs and standing along the rail, looking down into the pool area.
There is a medium sized pool bookended by two hot tubs. Rows of lounge chairs surround it. At one end there is a bar. The other side opens into one of the many buffets. Then, surrounding the entire scene, covered by the deck above, are seating areas with tables.
I don’t know what everyone is looking at, so I join them along the rail.
And there she is. A middle-aged woman in an orange sundress with a big floppy white hat. And she has been camped at the bar for some time.
As the music plays, the lady in the orange dress decides to move towards the makeshift dance floor. She isn’t looking for a partner. She just feels the spirit or likely the spirits move her to dance, I guess. And she does.
A little goofy and conservative at first. Then, as her confidence grows, so do her movements. It’s as if a younger, sexier version of her is awakened. And she leans into it.
The crowd above and below grows. Spurred on by the attention and the legion of margaritas she’s consumed, she gets even more loose. The crowd smiles and shouts its approval.
And then… she spies the brass pole that supports the awning over the bar. She seductively gyrates toward it.
“Please don’t go to the pole,” I silently plead, not wanting to see the upcoming train wreck.
Apparently, I am the only one not interested in seeing the spectacle because the crowd is behind her.
Mercifully, just as she slings a leg around the pole, a couple of the ship’s crew comes along and helps escort her off and inside the ship. The show is over.
The next morning, I head down to the breakfast buffet early. I want to eat before everyone starts putting their dirty paws all over the food. I don’t want my trip to end with explosive diarrhea from Norovirus.
In the corner, sitting alone, is the lady in the orange dress. She’s wearing shorts and a t-shirt now, but I can’t forget that face. Since there are only a few folks here, I decide to go over to her and sit near her.
We make eye contact, and she says hello. I respond and find a seat near her. She doesn’t notice me studying her.
I don’t know what I expected. For someone who nearly did a striptease in front of strangers, she seems really calm and nice. Like that was another person. But it’s her.
I don’t tell her I saw the show yesterday. I’m sure she didn’t want a reminder. She looks a bit tired and worn out. Likely hung over. Not surprising, I guess.
I don’t know who she is or what she does. Perhaps she’s an important woman. Wealthy. Maybe her passion in charity work. This trip is an opportunity to relax and recharge. I guess yesterday took it all out of her because today she seems beaten down. Maybe even a little ashamed. But a really nice person.
I didn’t see her the rest of the cruise.
And I still think about this years later.
I had two encounters with her. The one that made the biggest impression was the first one. No matter how amazing she is on a daily basis, one afternoon of poor judgement ruined it.
Sadly, people will judge you based on what they see, not what you intend to communicate with them. Let that be a lesson for you.