Last week, my husband and I had the pleasure of taking my parents and sister on a cruise to the Caribbean. They thoroughly enjoyed the cruise and fun was had by all. As we enjoyed the ship, the service and the smiles of the crew, I spent private mental time reflecting about the hospitality industry involved in the art of “the cruise.”
Crew members are taught the value of and trained in the art of customer service. They learn well how to do their tasks and to make customer service a real part of everything they do. From the moment one drives into the port area and begins that initial adventure of wading through security and registration, every last person is working to make your experience positive. Having cruised seven times, I remain enchanted with the process and with the people that I’ve met on board these grand cruise liners.
I enjoy looking around and studying the people who cruise. Beautiful people gather with their families, speaking every language imaginable. These families and individuals have come from all over the world to enjoy this week (or whatever the length). They are excited, perhaps a bit bewildered by the whole process, and yet looking forward to setting feet on the ship.
If one can listen through the din, one can hear many languages. Spanish, French, Italian, German, Dutch, the various Scandinavian languages, British English, Australian English, Scottish English, Irish English…and yes, even American English. The many port staff members do their best to herd us all through to the point of registration where we can get our “set-sail-passes” and get on board.
This time, we spoke with an elderly gentleman who was herding us through, pointing people to the best lines or the next lines. The queue wound its way this way and that, back and forth, as each “almost-passenger” got closer and closer to their destination. This gentleman looked tired. Just before we got close to him, there was a family that really let him have it. They were so vile and ugly that I felt sorry for the man. And, much to my chagrin, they were Americans. What a great visual for all the guests to take back to their respective homes…an American behaving badly and bullying an elderly man whose sole purpose was to direct and move along the passengers.
I felt heartsick. Why is such ugliness necessary? Everyone else seemed to be able to wade through the queue with some sort of aplomb…some sort of decorum befitting the gentle-people all around. And yet, this family found it necessary to be rude in front of everyone. Ugh!
When we got close enough to him, I asked him “How are you?” He smiled. I commented, “You must feel your job thankless sometimes?” He smiled again, and this time he nodded. I reached over and hugged him and said, “Thank you for your service to us and your patience with ugly people.” He hugged me back and said, “It’s always us Americans who are rude…never the foreigners.”
I winced. Here is a man who works with thousands of people daily. He makes many observations along the way, and that is what he had to say. My heart fell. My spirit was buffeted.
What has happened to us as a country that gives any one of us permission to behave poorly to anyone else? I remember as a little girl learning about the concept of “the ugly American.” My father was privileged with a State Department assignment to Ankara, Turkey. We lived there 1967, 1968 and 1969. Some of my fondest childhood memories are of Ankara. Before we moved there, Mother sat us down and gave us quite a “talkin-to.” She told us that we were to behave there as she had always expected us to, but with even more emphasis that we treat the people kindly, eat whatever was offered (I learned to eat eggplant in a million different ways!), and to make sure we played and worked sweetly with the Turkish people. In no uncertain terms, she told us that if we misbehaved or made Daddy look bad because of our behavior, there would be severe consequences. We were NEVER to be “the ugly American.”
Alas, as a child, I saw many Americans who lived there in Ankara behave badly. I learned as a young girl about the puzzling myth of our own exceptionalism that many Americans have– that we are better than the rest of the world, smarter, more clever… And worse yet, there seemed to be the assumption by some Americans could walk all over “other people” because they were not Americans. It was sad to see over and over again. But, what a valuable lesson for me as a young girl.
There I was in this bastion of hospitality, mind reeling with memories of ugly Americans I’ve seen through the years, treating “foreigners” in an unconscionable manner…treating anyone “different” as scum… There I was, looking forward to the cruise, reminded of the hatred outside boiling and bubbling as now Americans are treating each other badly, too. Children have become bullies…as I imagine they watch their elders doing the same thing in different ways. Those who have some skewed sense of entitlement, whether from affluenza or from expecting someone else to provide for them in grand ways, have taught a whole new generation that mistreating others is “alright.” Troubling thoughts to have while looking forward to a week of cruising in the Caribbean.
Thankfully, by the time we had gotten aboard and my parents’ faces were filled with smiles, I had put aside those memories and that one unfortunate experience and given in to the “allure of the seas.” It was a great cruise. I am thankful for the magic of the cruising hospitality industry…and to the “friends” we make on every ship.