As anyone who’s worked a job where busy season coincides with summer knows; August is ancient Greek for ‘bone-tired and over it’; though many shorten this to ‘I have fucking had it.’ It’s a hard month but at least it only has 31 days. And is stonkingly hot. And comes on the tale end of July, which is Greek for ‘I’ll give you something to cry about.’ Need a reason to climb out of your bunk? Or not get in it? Here are 9. And a half.
- You made it this far. Giving up now would be like having climbed the mountain (of guest sheets), fought the (Russian) bear, forded the river (of expensive wine) and solved the riddle (of Italian jetski regs) only to give up just as you’re about to be rewarded with your tribal name (like He-Who-Internalizes-Great-Frustration, or She-Who-Laughs-Hysterically).
- Everyone says you won’t make it. Like everyone. They come into our offices (yes The General Alarm has offices, globally and in many other places) just to tell us, “Hey, you know that person reading your list right now? Never going to make it through this season. Not ever. They just don’t have what it takes. They’re probably crying right now. You should give them a tissue. And a hug.” Here. Now get back out there slugger, and prove this idiot who is sitting in our offices uninvited, eating all our mints, that they’re wrong. (Just so you know, I hit them in the face for you. No, open-handed. But I didn’t warn them, and my hands are pretty cold).
- If this was a marathon, you’d be lost, and there wouldn’t be any other runners, or spectators, or actually any race at all. You’d have just started out for what you thought was a Sunday stroll and are now sweaty and really tired and your feet hurt and it’s either Friday or Monday you aren’t really sure. But as everyone knows, the best thing to do when lost is stay in one place. And scream for help.
- You have no way of getting ashore dry. Definitely not with your laptop and luggage. Push through until you don’t have to pay the deckhand €1000 to run you to the dock in the tender at 2:00 AM.
- You don’t know where you are. Which makes it hard to work out where you’re going.
- You miss your friends. You miss your family. But they think you’re happy, because your Facebook posts say so and show photos that only happy people take. If you leave now you’ll have to tell your mama you were sad, and that the good life wasn’t good. This in turn will make your mama sad. Don’t make your mama sad.
- Your memoirs are going to suck if you don’t at least try to hook up with Kelly at the end of the season. After going on and on for an entire chapter about how you basically stalked her around the boat for three months, if you don’t do this you will never enjoy 104 weeks at the top of the NY Times bestseller list. Get with Kelly for your future.
- You think the basic premise of yachting is lame, and the business in general is pointless. So is everything if you pull it apart enough. Deal.
- You think you might kill someone if you stay. Legitimately. As in you’ve made a plan on graph paper and thought about how you’ll dispose of the body and have practiced looking surprised when someone says, “Hey have you seen that dickhead Brock? He’s late for his shift and there’s a three foot wide trail of blood down the crew corridor.” If you leave you won’t get to make good on all those hours in front of the mirror, and that would be a waste.
The half: You signed a contract and want a good reference. Yeah, well, it’s true.