While working in the manic yachting industry, it’s important to take a look at that bigger picture.
In 2016, a book was published called The Subtle Art of Not Giving a F*ck. A strong title, and it certainly made an impact. In summary, the book proposed that one can’t care about everything — and one shouldn’t. Life is limited, and as such so is your time, energy and attention. This is a valuable lesson, and one that I have learned while working in the often manic and panic-filled industry that is yachting.
I am writing this list on leave, and I’ve got a great view looking out at the lake in my backyard. This year, the ducks have had a rather small family — only four ducklings. Limited ducks! Henceforth, I will be using the word duck to represent the other four-letter word.
A couple of years back, when I started out in yachting — wow, the number of ducks I used to give! It was bordering on unhealthy. It wasn’t just me. This excessive duck-giving behavior was modeled by my first few head chefs, frantic chief stews and stress-addicted captains. The level of stress is generally influenced by the HODs, and I get it! You can have an extremely demanding guest and, sure, stuff needs to happen quickly. That can create very stressful situations, where panicked moves are made, fingers are pointed, and the second stew is whisper-shouting on the “all crew” radio channel, “Who moved the boss’s pool slides and WHERE ARE THEY NOW?!” But at some point, you’re going to pull up and realize that it’s not worth the heart-rate elevation.
At the start of my galley career, I would get so worked up about crew food, in terms of people messing with it, (“What ducking sauce are you putting on my penne carbonara?!”) or people eating off the boat and not telling me, wasting the time I spent cooking. I think the biggest factor in my change of attitude to that was knowing a) I get paid no matter what they decide to do with the food, and b) I am often that person who decides to go out for dinner last minute. (Guilty!)
Somewhat reassuringly, I do see my sous chef getting worked up about similar things, which is a relief to me. Hey! Other people get bothered by it too! And I get to calm them down and help them let it go.
As a head chef, I’d get far too tetchy with the guests (for not being at the table when we clearly agreed they should be) and snippy at the stew (for not taking out the food as fast as Usain Bolt).
While for some there is a gradual realization that this is not a life and death matter, for me it was a clear watershed. There was a definitive moment during a particularly intense charter. I was being badgered for larger (the biggest you have!) chicken wings ASAP and it hit me — these chicken wings will take a while to cook. Don’t rush it. Don’t work yourself up into a frenzy because NO ONE WILL DIE if they wait an extra 10 minutes for wings.
Take a step back, and look at the bigger picture. Why are we acting like it’s an absolute panic station situation DEFCON level 10 when it’s just making sure there are 20 more fluffy towels in the limo tender? There are people out there saving lives, running nuclear power plants — and we as head chefs have the audacity to act like we’re God’s gift to the world, running around with over-inflated egos, flourishing our creative prowess and acting like if the food doesn’t hit the table in three seconds flat then the entire culinary experience will collapse. Phew. Let’s get a price check on that attitude.
There are some things I will always give a duck about, and that’s OK because that’s my job, it’s what I get paid to give a duck about, and it’s how I keep my integrity as a chef. But I now know when to dial it back.
Folks, we all have a finite supply of ducks. Age, experience and a few metaphorical (and literal) ducklings have helped me ration mine more wisely. I’ve learned that perception of the outside world is a healthy addition to the superyacht mindset. That a calm kitchen makes better food. That leadership means knowing when to care — and when not to.
So, my advice? Count your ducks. And spend them where it counts.