to insure prompt service

A couple of days ago I had the Harbormaster's mobile pump out boat come by. I had only used the pump out boat once before and at that time two other boats in my small marina also wanted pump outs. I just paid my $5 for the pump out, but it sounded like the other boats tipped the guy. I didn't know what is expected or appropriate, so when I got pumped out the other day I tipped the guy a buck. That's 20% of the $5, but I felt it might have been chintzy and wanted to know the etiquette for tipping in that situation. Oh, did I forget to mention the guy is cute and chatted me up a bit? Regardless, I know well what it's like to depend on tips, so I wanted to make sure I was doing the right thing.

I dropped an email to a friend whose judgment I trust so I could get his advice and view on tipping for pump outs. He definitely tips and tips well; generally $5 on a pump out. He has sailed, but is primarily a power boater. Feeling comfortable now that tipping is called for, and that a $3 to $5 tip for pump out, depending on the service, is a reasonable range, I could have (should have) just moved on. But being curious by nature, I decided to see what the forums had to say about it. And true to form, the forums pretty much make my blood boil.

The reputation that power boaters tip much, much better than sail boaters appears to be very well grounded in reality. When searching on Sailnet for "tipping pump out" and "tipping marinas" not one relevant search result even appeared. Cruisers Forum had a variety of threads on tipping launch drivers and marina staff or dock hands, and on tipping in US marinas.

Apparently tipping is customary, appropriate, and expected along the US east coast. (I seem to remember my ex tipping dock hands twenties when we were running his brother's 54-foot yacht in Miami and the Keys.) It sounded as though tipping is less common on the west coast, but that dock hands being around to help is also infrequent. The Canadians, Brits, Kiwis, and Aussies mostly showed themselves to be not only cheap, but incredibly resentful of tipping just about anyone, ever. Even when they know very well that it is expected in the US. Not tipping or tipping very little may be the custom in their countries, but it is very bad karma to bring that attitude to the US. I read ridiculous posts along the lines of "employers should simply pay a good wage" and "I don't tip because I only frequent businesses who pay their employees well." Yeah, right. I seriously doubt anyone is out there asking just how much the dock hands are paid before they book a slip at a marina. And who exactly gets to be the arbiter of whether someone's wage is good, livable, or fair?

Make no mistake, in jobs where tipping is traditional--restaurant staff, hairdressers, taxi drivers--tipping isn't "optional." It is part of the price you are expected to pay for the service. If you can't afford to tip 20% then don't eat or drink out.

Many people don't seem to realize that most waiters in the US make effectively nothing. In the Annapolis area servers and bartenders make $3.63 an hour. (Apparently federal law allows it to be as low as $2.13 in some places.) One's "paycheck" is zero because that whopping $3.63 an hour is all withheld for taxes. Whether you tip or not the server has to pay taxes as if you did because the restaurant declares tips for the staff based on the server's sales. The server may also pay 2.5% in credit card processing fees, and usually tips out 10% to the bar and another 15% to the busser.

I saw one post saying it's not fair to have to tip a server since all they do is carry some food, that someone else cooked, to your table. Wow. There's a lot more to it than the time a server spends with you at your table. They arrive hours before the restaurant opens to clean, prepare the dining room and service areas, cut fruit, cut bread, educate themselves on that night's soup and specials, et cetera. Most servers really are there to provide you a high-quality professional service that not just anyone can provide. They almost certainly know and care more about cuisine and wine than 99% of their customers. The ability to stay organized under pressure, timing meals, dealing with rude, difficult, or mean customers, knowing about the food preparation or being willing to check with the chef to accommodate customers' peculiar allergies, diets, or preferences, those are not skills that everyone has and they are not easy to teach. It can be back-breaking work carrying large trays of food and kegs of beer. And it can be soul-sucking work when after recommending the perfect wines and catering to the table's every whim, you find a measly 15% tip.

Tipping actually makes a lot of sense for paying servers and bartenders because the server at a breakfast diner and the server at a fine dining restaurant probably shouldn't be making the same wage. Having it keyed to the cost of the meal often reflects the difference in skills and education needed for the role. In fine dining customers expect the server to know wines that may cost as much as the server will make that night. You would probably be shocked by how many customers I've had who didn't know French or haute cuisine terminology for food and needed me to explain it. Even more frequent were customers who use the wrong bread plate or don't know how to place their silverware to indicate they are ready for the next course. Fine dining is a dance that requires both the server and the customer to know the steps to be truly successful.

But enough ranting about tipping. The bottom line is one should tip, and tip well. It makes a difference. It will insure you prompt service the next time around. It's good for your karma. If you're a sail boater and usually thrifty, be the one to stand out and tip well.

Sail boaters have a well-earned reputation for cheapness and they should not be proud of it. That is not to say it isn't admirable to get by on a tight or small budget, to make the most of everything one has, or to fight for a good deal. Frugality can be admirable; frugality is about not being wasteful of anyone's resources. It benefits both the individual and the commons. Cheapness, on the other hand, is a character flaw. Period. And if a potential romantic interest is cheap, run don't walk. Cheap people are often not just tight-fisted with their money, but also with their time, energy, and physical affection. The last thing anyone wants is to go on a date or hang with a friend who invariably complains about the cost of things or has to find the cheapest deal available. Somehow, money and prices always come up. Quite the opposite, I had a friend who would arrange at the outset for the bill to be taken care of. The last thing he wanted at the end of a wonderful meal was to ruin it with discussion of money.

a chill in the air (and some pet peeves redux)

We had a few mild, pleasant days over the holiday weekend, but the heat kicked right back in. The boat was back to 85 to 90 degrees inside the past few days and yesterday topped 95. I'm running an oscillating fan and I've had the forward hatch open plus port lights open along the sides of the boat to get some cross ventilation. Worried about rain coming through the port lights, I draped a tarp from the cabin top to the life lines, secured with bungee cords, to keep any rain from coming through the starboard port lights and put a towel down to catch any rain coming in on the port side. 

I was planning to head out first thing Thursday morning to buy a portable room air conditioner despite the painful $300 price tag. It would take up space in the cabin and need its vent hose run to a port light, but setting it up would be something simple enough for me to handle. My friends on S/V Octopussy urged me to let them take a look at my old air conditioning unit before spending money on a new one, so I held off. Yesterday evening, we disassembled and inspected, not finding any obvious failure right off. But it turned out the problem was an incredibly simple one: the unit was overheating because I had kept the cover on. The cover is made from the same blue fabric as my bimini and dodger, but has mesh panels in the sides and back to allow the unit to vent. I had put the cover on for the winter and had not had any problem running the heater with the cover on. But when I was running the heater it was below freezing, so the unit was not likely to overheat. We removed the cover and instead of tripping the breaker after ten or twenty minutes, the unit just kept happily humming along. Within a couple of hours the temperature inside the boat dropped from about 97 degrees to 70. I feel pretty silly that it was such a simple solution that I should have been able to figure out myself. But I'm grateful for good friends, cold beer, and the opportunity to look at the guts of the unit so I won't be as nervous troubleshooting it next time. 

Here are some photos of my lovely rooftop RV air conditioner. It may not be pretty, but it works.

Before getting the air conditioning back online, I did a few "loads" (read: buckets on the deck with a hose) of laundry and gave the boat her first wash of the season. I think it will take a couple more washes and a lot of elbow grease to get her really sparkly clean, but she definitely looks better. When I started washing the decks there were no bird droppings on her at all. Within a minute of finishing, a bird had shit on the deck. Seriously? But I cleaned up the cockpit and removed the various non-matching door mats scattered around for the dog to have traction because she hates walking on the non-skid. In their place I put down the cockpit cushions I inherited from my friends at Life Afloat Archives and pulled out my striped cushions that happen to match my robin's egg blue decks perfectly. Once I get the propane tank mounted off the rail (meeting with my handyman this weekend to get the job started), I can remove the blue tarp-monster and the cockpit will be back to seating several people comfortably for entertaining. 

A few minutes ago I headed topsides to take the photos included in this post. I had heard some people in the marina, which is uncommon at this hour on a weekday since I'm the only liveaboard. I saw a powerboat and dink in the slip recently vacated by my neighbors. The guy was getting out of the dink and when we said hello he asked if I live aboard. I said yes, and he mentioned he lives across the creek and what type of boat he's on. I'm sure it sounded really weird, but I blurted out "Are you [so-and-so]?" He looked at me askance and said, "Yes." "I'm RunningRabbit!" I proclaimed, "I replied to one of your posts asking for marina information in Annapolis." Yes, from the type of boat he lives on and the hat he was wearing, I was able to correctly identify this guy I've never met but have briefly encountered on the boating forums.  It's a very, very small world we live in indeed.

I just have to revisit my earlier "pet peeves" post here for a bit. I don't think I'm overly touchy (i.e., sensitive) but I do think others are overly touchy (i.e., hands-y). After my earlier post, another guy at the pub was touching the faded tattoo on my arm, even as I kept sort of stepping back to avoid it. Then a guy at another bar kept mussing my bangs and hair, which I had meticulously flat-ironed straight. If I'd have been alone I'd probably have dumped my beer on him, but my friend seemed mildly amused by him so I tried to tolerate it. Then at work a guy was poking my side in a tickling-like gesture and later grabbed my phone out of my pocket (as I was reaching for it to pause the podcast I was listening to). At that point I actually did melt down and yell for everyone to stop fucking touching me. Maybe I'm being overly sensitive. I mean it's obvious that in having a great ass I am inviting every brother at a reggae show to grind his junk on me, right? Uh, no! Guys, if a girl wants you to touch her, she will make it very, very clear. Otherwise, keep your hands to yourself. I don't even pet a stranger's dog without first asking for permission. It's called basic etiquette. I also don't just "drop by" my friends' houses (or boats) unannounced. Before 3PM the likelihood I'm still in my jammies is about 95%. I guess I just value my privacy a lot more than most. Fences really do make good neighbors for a reason. At least I've got this huge attack cat to protect me.

gone fishing

Last week I got to spend a day on the Bay during Rockfish "trophy" season. Other than a couple of forced fishing excursions during childhood, I've never really been fishing, perhaps mostly because I'm allergic to seafood. So, it might be strange that I'd drag myself out of bed at 4:30AM for a fishing trip.  Stranger still might be that I didn't actually know the guys I was heading out fishing with.

The invitation came from a friend from Cruisers' Forum, someone who has followed my adventure aboard possibly from before I had even bought the boat. He and his wife have a first mutt about the same size as Buttercup, so he's shared some dogs-aboard tips. We've swapped marina information, and he's answered repair questions and offered loaner tools. So, although we hadn't ever met in person, he was one of my friends I just hadn't met yet.

But even if I'm not into fish and fishing, a day on the water is always good and I knew it would be a good treat for Buttercup, who deserves plenty of spoiling with how busy I've been lately. So I dragged myself out of bed and promised the sleepy-eyed puppy she was in for a big adventure. She needed some help getting aboard and getting up the stairs to the flybridge, but then spent the day right at the feet of whoever was manning the helm...or whoever was eating something she thought she might catch crumbs of.

I got to learn how the planer boards are put out and assisted with putting out the many lines for trolling. At the helm I learned I needed to give plenty of space when passing other boats, since we had planer boards out and so did most of the other boats out on the Bay with us. It was useful to compare my sighting of a marker with my actual steering as revealed by the chartplotter. Eventually I'll get a better sense of the delayed-reaction in steering a boat and not overcompensate so much.

When the first line when down I hustled down to the deck to help. Little did I know I would be handed the rod and told I had to bring it in. I bellyached about my torn rotator cuff and it was no easy task cranking the reel, but I managed to reel in our only fish of the day, a 37" Rockfish. I am not a vegetarian, but I probably should be. I'm not a hunter, not used to killing things, and don't take pleasure in hurting living things. When the fish came out of the water and was about to go in the net I looked at it and said "I'm sorry I killed you."

Although we had over a dozen trolling lines out, our only other catch was a 14' tree branch that was a bear for the guys to bring in. Buttercup kept trying to grab the fish by the tail when I had to hold it up for the photo.

As I drove back home I glanced at the back seat and saw Buttercup deep asleep. A tired puppy is a good puppy. So glad to give her a good day on the water.

friends I haven't met yet

I never cease to be amazed and touched by the feedback about my blog that I receive from total strangers, or, as one reader put it, "friends I haven't met yet." I've had public, anonymous, and for-my-eyes-only comments left on the blog, as well as emails and private messages via forums. Some are long-time liveaboards or experienced boaters, others are new to the adventure or planning the move. It's incredibly touching to receive these wonderful comments and messages encouraging me, complimenting my writing, thanking me for sharing my journey, wishing me well in finding love, or reminding me that the floppy-haired sailor guy didn't deserve me.

I didn't set out with any particular purpose or focus in starting this blog. I just began documenting the process of boat-shopping and then moving aboard and it took on a life of its own. It became a diary, a place where I rant, and cry, and laugh. My blog provides a smattering of photos and occasionally before-and-after documentation of repairs, but little in the way of "how to" advice. I call it the soap opera of my life aboard. I sometimes think "Why would anyone want to read about my frustrations, heartbreaks, and little victories?" Even if no one does, it's my outlet and doesn't really need to be anything more than that. So I have been moved by the many messages I receive thanking me for sharing my personal emotional journey, for being honest and heartfelt. Not everyone is comfortable "spilling their insides all over the Internet," as one friend put it, but apparently I am.

I've already gone on quite a personal journey without hardly leaving the slip. In online forums I see folks who've circumnavigated and don't have a clue about life, and love, and friendship. As with everything in life, what you bring to the adventure and what you make it determine what you get out of it. As a runner, it makes me think of marathons and ultras. A marathon is a 26 mile tunnel of deep, dark self-doubt, and then .2 miles of glorious, shining personal victory. The success would not be so sweet if it weren't for the pain and the process of reaching deep inside oneself to learn whether you have the mental and emotional fortitude to come out the other side. Aside from obvious physical barriers, anyone can train their legs to run, anyone can learn to sail. But you can get so much more out of those experiences if you let yourself be vulnerable. Take the challenges, failures, and successes as opportunities to learn about your fears, weaknesses, and strengths. If you then embrace and harness them--that is when you find your center, your true north, your inner strength to bring yourself through the roughest seas of life.

My blog may not prepare anyone for winter aboard, or dealing with a full holding tank, or learning to sail. But perhaps it lets a few folks out there know they are not alone in their frustrations or their dreams.

A very heartfelt thank you to all of my readers, whether sailors or landlubbers, friends new and old, or friends I just haven't met yet.

don't count newbies out

I've only been living aboard and on a sailboat for a handful of months. But one keen observation I've made is that folks in both the "real world" and in online forums can be pretty fairly judged by how they treat newbies. And even it it isn't fair, I'm judging them, period. Strangers have welcomed me into their lives and onto their boats, generously shared their tips and tricks. Many of my newfound liveaboard friends will be dear friends for life, I have no doubt. But if you treat "newbies" like the dirt you so despise, if your immediate reaction to their dreams of being on the sea is to look down your nose and say "you really need to take sailing lessons," you won't be getting any rum shots on my boat, but I might make you walk the plank. Everyone was a newbie at some point. Just because someone has been doing something for twenty or forty years doesn't mean they haven't been doing it wrong. Just because I'm a newbie doesn't mean I don't actually know more or have a better way of doing something.

Not too long ago I "killed" my profiles on Cruisers Forum, SailNet, and SailBoatOwners.com. I grudgingly revived the ones on CF and SN and do have some good friends there. I've had many blog readers come from those forums and I deeply appreciate the positive feedback on my blog that I've received from those folks. The forums have some useful information and some good people, but are often overwhelmed by self-righteous schmucks who spend so much time online it's hard to imagine they ever get their boats out on the water. They are snarky and unhelpful and clearly legends in their own minds. It is simpler for me to walk down the street to Davis' Pub, full of sailors, power boaters, liveaboards, and boat mechanics. I can achieve the same effect as posting a question in a forum by working my way down the bar asking for suggestions on my current project or challenge. There, I can tell if someone is an idiot, a jerk, wise, helpful, or too drunk to be handing out advice. The good folks generously share their experiences, both failures and successes. Rather than paranoid cautions of how ignorant you are and how dangerous the sea is, they readily admit that no one ever masters sailing and that if someone claims to they are full of shit. The good folks realize that plenty of folks teach themselves, no boat is ever ready, and sailors less experienced and with fewer wits about them have circumnavigated and lived to tell about it. It just isn't rocket science.

My advice to the newbies out there: buy some books; study up; use your noodle; use some common sense. Even if you're a newbie, you know more than a lot of self-appointed experts online and you bring your own unique experience, skills, and perspective. A little fresh air blowing through the sailing forums might do them good, but I'm too busy living my life. I do check the forums again, and try to post helpful comments where I have something to contribute. I'd like to bitch-slap some of the snarks, but they just aren't worth the drama. I already know of several sailors I'm likely to run across as I cruise but whom I wouldn't be willing to break bread with or invite for sundowners. The sea is a very dangerous place and I've seen from years of boating in Miami how quickly weather can turn, how quickly people can lose their lives. That is why I think having good "boating karma" is especially important. When I have the choice to lend a hand or to cut someone down, I'd rather be helpful than hurtful, and hopefully when my boat is being tossed about on a turbulent sea, Poseidon will show me the same kindness.