What Happened when We Expected More of Ourselves

In 1975, the US Naval Institute reported on the status of the US Merchant Marine, then in its federally-subsidized heyday. Its officers, sons of the middle or stable working class, were disillusioned with the rambunctious, hedonistic crewmembers sent forth by the union hiring halls. Being manager, foreman, diplomat, and warden, these officers' skills could be put to productive use in business ashore, rather than a professional career at sea. In 1983, CJ Forsyth reported the same sociological conditions in a Louisiana State University thesis on the occupationally-induced marginality of Amerocan seafarers. Just a decade later, the carefree "sea daddy" was gone. Mandatory drug testing did him in. Initially, unions were wary of this mandate, believing it was another device in management's toolbox. Yet, with the higher standards implemented, safety, efficiency, and morale improved. In the past couple of years, a one-time in-service maritime training requirement on human resources came into full effect. This was a collection of coursework, which for seagoing engineers included a total of three weeks in human resource management, leadership and teamwork, and the management of electronic systems. Fpr the most part, unions and employers covered the cost of this training. Yet a one-time continuing education requirement drove a good number of senior-level American seafarers to take their retirement. Maybe it was for the better that these rigid and unchangeable individuals pursue satisfaction in another activity. Self-reflection and human insight has, for half a century, been seen as a critical part of safety-sensitive work. By raising the bar, counterproductive habits and people are whittled away.

The Fantasy and the Facts

In a suburb of Washington, DC, Tracy Rebello opened the "Piratez Tavern" after a career in corporate communications. Like many brick-and-mortar entrepreneurs, she sold the family home to start this restaurant, and keep it running for 8 years. As revealed in a memorable July 2012 episode of Bar Rescue, the establishment was a million dollars in debt; but the owner was found to be thoroughly living the dream as captain of a pirate ship eatery. Displeased with the sleek renovations aimed towards the white-collar lunch crowd, the family sang sea shanties while burning Jon Taffer's new furnishings (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PSPkbJohdyo). I never went myself, though. While I knew that the "pirate tavern" existed during my undergraduate days, it had a dive reputation, as seen in contemporaneous discussions on City Data forums. I celebrated my 21st birthday at Phillip's Seafood Restaurant in Downtown DC, before the Wharf area was redeveloped into its condo-friendly form. "Piratez Tavern" closed down shortly before my 22nd birthday. This episode hit home with me, not just for the nautical theme, but over our occupational identity as swashbuckling mariners. This attitude is more prevalent in the lower-compensated and less-regulated sectors of the industry, such as research ships and small government vessels; and non-existent in oil-and-gas. Between the oil price drop of 2015 and the Great Resignation, we hit an inversion point where college-educated marine engineers could get higher-paid work ashore in maintenance and R&D environments (power plants, Tesla, and others), despite the challenging lifestyle and working conditions. Fortunately, instead of blanky shouting "nobody wants to work anymore", new contracts between maritime employers and their unions have restored the supply-and-demand equilibrium of mariners to jobs. This experience is one more reminder to keep nostalgic sentiments at bay when thinking about business, personal or corporate.