Ajax
Super Anarchist
Holy fucking shit, I have had ENOUGH!
I've had this crew, who runs late, doesn't call, refuses to wear appropriate clothing, cannot decipher a simple fucking email, shows up with his spouse for crew, when there's no room on the boat, and I've specifically said we're maxxed out. He's new. I've been patient. I've been generous. Hey, it's only beer can races. The water is shallow, and warm, plenty of other boats around, right? Grow the sport, right?
For the entire season so far, I have provided the following, all at my own expense to all of my crew:
A wide assortment of chilled beverages, PFD's, line gloves, hats, harnesses, tethers, breakfasts, dinners, lunches, snacks, sunscreen, bug spray, sun glasses, to say nothing of the cash I've been pouring into my beloved 4ktsb, so that we have fun, functional gear to play with.
This guy races in his work uniform for fuck's sake. He either wears "mandles" which are not secure on his feet, or he wears monstrous, heavy work boots which will either drown him, or make it impossible for him to assist in his own recovery if he goes MOB. He initially fought me on wearing gloves! I have gently prodded him to get his own gear. I've pointed him to the local chandlery, Bacon Sails that sells used gear at give-away prices. I've pointed him at Goodwill, where you can buy wicking T shirts for $3 god-damned dollars each. I've pointed him towards $20.00 Chuck Taylors and all I get is push-back!
So here we are, 5 days before the Eastport-Solomons Invitational, a 45 mile race at fucking night, and I tell the crew that in matters of safety, "my word is law". The first thing he does, is argue with me on the only thing I've asked him to do: Wear appropriate clothing. It's not a fucking fashion show, it's basic god-damned safety. I swear, I'm not out to break his wallet. I just don't want to be the next skipper in the news, who loses a crew and gets dissected in the public court of Sailing Anarchy and Sailnet.
"But can't I just..." No, you re-fucking-tard, you can't. I'm not compromising on safety. I decide what safety is. It's my fucking ride, and I'm done making compromises.
So dumbass, because you repeatedly can't follow simple fucking instructions without arguing every single time, you're fired. You're fucking-A fired. FIRED!!!
I'd say "Pack up your shit and get out!" but you don't have any shit, because I've provided it all!
[/rant. fucking. off.]
I've had this crew, who runs late, doesn't call, refuses to wear appropriate clothing, cannot decipher a simple fucking email, shows up with his spouse for crew, when there's no room on the boat, and I've specifically said we're maxxed out. He's new. I've been patient. I've been generous. Hey, it's only beer can races. The water is shallow, and warm, plenty of other boats around, right? Grow the sport, right?
For the entire season so far, I have provided the following, all at my own expense to all of my crew:
A wide assortment of chilled beverages, PFD's, line gloves, hats, harnesses, tethers, breakfasts, dinners, lunches, snacks, sunscreen, bug spray, sun glasses, to say nothing of the cash I've been pouring into my beloved 4ktsb, so that we have fun, functional gear to play with.
This guy races in his work uniform for fuck's sake. He either wears "mandles" which are not secure on his feet, or he wears monstrous, heavy work boots which will either drown him, or make it impossible for him to assist in his own recovery if he goes MOB. He initially fought me on wearing gloves! I have gently prodded him to get his own gear. I've pointed him to the local chandlery, Bacon Sails that sells used gear at give-away prices. I've pointed him at Goodwill, where you can buy wicking T shirts for $3 god-damned dollars each. I've pointed him towards $20.00 Chuck Taylors and all I get is push-back!
So here we are, 5 days before the Eastport-Solomons Invitational, a 45 mile race at fucking night, and I tell the crew that in matters of safety, "my word is law". The first thing he does, is argue with me on the only thing I've asked him to do: Wear appropriate clothing. It's not a fucking fashion show, it's basic god-damned safety. I swear, I'm not out to break his wallet. I just don't want to be the next skipper in the news, who loses a crew and gets dissected in the public court of Sailing Anarchy and Sailnet.
"But can't I just..." No, you re-fucking-tard, you can't. I'm not compromising on safety. I decide what safety is. It's my fucking ride, and I'm done making compromises.
So dumbass, because you repeatedly can't follow simple fucking instructions without arguing every single time, you're fired. You're fucking-A fired. FIRED!!!
I'd say "Pack up your shit and get out!" but you don't have any shit, because I've provided it all!
[/rant. fucking. off.]
