Assembling the Ultimate Charter Team

Keeping charter guests happy can sometimes feel like the ultimate caper – and with any caper, it’s important to assemble the right crack team.

The sun melts into the horizon over the Amalfi Coast, painting the sea liquid gold. On the aft deck, champagne bottles recline lazily in their beds of ice, beads of condensation running like the nervous sweat on the bosun’s forehead.

On the quay, blacked-out sedans glide into position. Doors open. Security emerges. Dior sunglasses. Diamonds. Hang on — is that George Clooney? Ah, no. On closer inspection, he’s more like the Temu version. Still, he flashes a slow smile at the waiting crew. A stew blushes. So does a deckhand.

He removes his shades, pauses for dramatic effect and steps aboard the gleaming yacht. Is this the opening scene of the next Ocean’s 11?

Sadly not, the assembled crew realize, as instead of Brad Pitt and Matt Damon, “George” is trailed by eight adults and four children who, within 30 seconds, have managed to cover every clean surface with something sticky.

“Is that jam on the ceiling? Where did it even come from?!” wonders the chief stew, smiling politely as she hands out welcome drinks.

While the captain charms the guests, the deck crew whip luggage up the passerelle like they’re at a CrossFit competition. The interior team engage like a military operation, unpacking, pressing, organizing; the chef continues dinner prep in the galley, the engineer gives the all-clear to move, deck crew cast off, captain gets the yacht underway, all while the guests nibble hors d’oeuvres and declare how relaxed they are.

“It must be like being on a nonstop holiday!” a guest beams at a maniacally grinning stew, blissfully unaware that for them, it’s more like  a nonstop triathlon.

All this? It’s a well-rehearsed ballet. Guests see effortless glamour; crew orchestrate a million moving parts at lightning speed. So, how do they make it look so easy? Well it’s like planning a heist. You need the ultimate team….

The Mastermind

Love or loathe it, the captain really is the Danny Ocean of the operation — calm, charming and capable of juggling guest expectations with port authorities, weather systems and the occasional jam-splattered ceiling. But even the best mastermind needs their team. How do they select them?

Captain Paul Duncan of Starfire says the secret is balance. “We look for dynamism, capability and attitude. The best charter crew don’t just go the extra mile — they enjoy getting there. It’s about seeing every challenge as an opportunity rather than something to survive until the next break.”

Captain Grant van Goeverden agrees. “Strong crews think fast and adapt quickly when plans inevitably change,” he says. “If you’ve never had to figure out dinner without calling your mum, charter life can be a rude awakening.”

The Right Hand (Chief Stew/Purser)

If the captain is Danny, the chief stew is Rusty Ryan, running the whole show with a cool head and an encyclopedic knowledge of guest quirks. Attention to detail is everything.

“The captain might steer the yacht, but the chief stew steers the mood,” says chief stew Annie Smith*. “If the interior’s calm, guests feel calm, even when everything behind the scenes is on fire.”

“The first 24 hours are about reading the guests,” she adds. “By breakfast you know who wants champagne and who just wants peace and quiet — and if you get that wrong, the whole day goes sideways.”

Second stew Vicki Jones* adds: “It’s not just about service. It’s anticipating what they’ll want before they even know they want it.”

Before the first pedicured toe touches the passerelle, the crew have already rehearsed like a stunt team training for the world’s most glamorous hostage situation

Van Goeverden uses the pre-charter boss trip to shake down the crew. “It’s perfect for seeing who’s got grit. I’m looking for the kind of resilience that keeps people going when exhaustion sets in and we still have weeks ahead.”

“[Pre-season] training was everything,” chief officer Jerome Fritz says. “Guest safety came first, but we also drilled tenders, watersports and full guest simulations. By the first trip, we were operating like seasoned crew.”

“Communication, communication and a bit more communication,” chief officer Billy Jackson* says. “Different departments peak at different times, but empathy keeps things balanced. If we can help another team, we do; we’re all chasing the same tips.”

“The best crews communicate silently,” Smith says. “One eyebrow raise can mean ‘We’ve run out of champagne’ or ‘The guest’s about to cry.’”

“It starts with the leaders,” Fritz says. “Captains and HODs have to show no one’s exempt from helping out — whether that’s garbage runs, provisioning or cleaning the crew mess. That builds team spirit fast.”

“Crew are like a good sourdough starter,” Duncan says. “They collect their attitude and energy from the environment around them. If that environment promotes professionalism, respect and enjoyment of life, it becomes self-sustaining.”

The Tech Wizards (Engineer/ETO)

They don’t say much, but everyone prays they never have to. When things break — and they will — the engineer is the difference between smooth sailing and explaining to 12 guests why the stabilizers quit mid-cocktail hour.

The Wild Cards (Junior Crew)

The acrobats, the newbies, the ones who bring unexpected sparkle. They might be green, but when cast right, they’re the glue  that keeps energy up when everyone else is running on fumes.

Showtime

The plan’s drawn, the prep’s complete, let’s go. Guests relax, crew smile and it all looks effortless.

But every Ocean’s 11 job has its plot twists:

1: The weather. That serene anchorage? Suddenly a wind tunnel.

2: The menu. Yesterday’s carnivore is today’s vegan.

3: The toys. The kids want all of them — now.

4: The tech gremlin. Wi-Fi drop, A/C tantrum,  bow thruster protest, machine mutiny.

5: The impossible guest. “Sometimes people are impossible to please,” Fritz says. “You just do your best and protect your crew.”

“The best charter teams are part crew, part crisis-management unit,” Jones says. “You plan every detail, but there’s always a wild card: the 25th wedding anniversary nobody mentioned, the spilled cocktail or the toddler with a passion for destruction. We just smile and adapt. There’s no plan B, only plan Now.”

Chef “Jota” recalls his own Mission Impossible moment — a Saudi princess’s impromptu palace banquet. “She said it was for five,” he says. “Then told me to bring three chefs and a butler. Within 24 hours we had flights, a team and were buying stoves, pans, everything. At 3am Carrefour opened just for me. By 7am, breakfast was ready.”

Through it all, the crew sail through service, smiling like nothing could possibly be wrong. Guests toast, “Living the dream.” Meanwhile, below deck, someone’s hiding in the laundry room muttering “living the nightmare” into a mop bucket.

Morale, Mayhem and Magic

“When morale dips, it’s usually exhaustion talking,” Captain van Goeverden says. “If I see someone struggling, I’ll step in and give them time off. A crew that feels supported will always go the extra mile.”

“Leaders have to walk the walk,” Jackson says. “Send tired crew down for breaks. Burnout shows, and guests can tell when the atmosphere’s off.”

“Morale dies fast if interior and deck stop seeing each other as equals,” Smith says. “It’s not ‘inside versus outside.’ It’s one machine. If the deck team’s drowning in toys, I’ll grab a line. If we’re buried in cabins, I know they’ll help. That’s how you survive charter season with your sanity intact.”

“An unprompted word of thanks goes further than any pep talk,” chief officer Stuart Freni says. “There’s nothing worse than an officer preaching about how hard they had it while sipping tea on the bridge. Make the coffee run yourself, hand out ice creams during pack-down — little gestures keep people going.”

“All the planning in the world can go to pot when things start to unravel,” he adds. “That’s when honesty, humor and camaraderie save the day. A team that can laugh at the absurdity of it all can’t be shaken.”

“On a long season with back-to-back charters, morale hinges on realism,” Fritz says. “Don’t make your team chase perfection when guests just want to have fun. Announce tips early, keep everyone well-fed and rested; a bit of salt or a watermark never killed anyone.”

The Fixer (Chef)

Part magician, part therapist, entirely fueled by espresso, the chef is the one who can turn “vegan keto pescatarian with a dairy intolerance” into art.

Chef Jota once had to throw together a full birthday cake between courses: “They forget their wife’s birthday, tell you mid-aperitifs,  but you find a way,” he says.

Chef Gjorgi Mitev knows the madness well. “I’ve flown truffles in by helicopter and sent half the deck team out at 9pm to hunt for lobsters,” he says. “The key is preparation; the more I know in advance, the better I can improvise. Sauces, desserts, menu ideas…  I have backups for everything.”

As captain Mark Davis* put it, “Get a good chef and you’re 70 percent of the way to a happy charter.”

Part magician, part therapist, entirely fueled by espresso, the chef is the one who can turn “vegan keto pescatarian with a dairy intolerance” into art.

Chef Jota once had to throw together a full birthday cake between courses: “They forget their wife’s birthday, tell you mid-aperitifs,  but you find a way,” he says.

Chef Gjorgi Mitev knows the madness well. “I’ve flown truffles in by helicopter and sent half the deck team out at 9pm to hunt for lobsters,” he says. “The key is preparation; the more I know in advance, the better I can improvise. Sauces, desserts, menu ideas…  I have backups for everything.”

As captain Mark Davis* put it, “Get a good chef and you’re 70 percent of the way to a happy charter.”

The Muscle (Deck Team)

Tender wranglers, toy launchers, fender wrestlers, guest babysitters — the action heroes in board shorts.

“A service mindset is crucial in this industry, no matter your department,” Freni says. "Six months mandatory hospitality service would make society better rounded than military service ever could.”

“The best teams have good synergy, Teflon shoulders and a sense of humor; it’s impossible to survive without all three,” Jackson says.

Fritz agrees: “A strong charter crew doesn’t do interdepartmental politics. Everyone has the same goal — get that tip.”

Fade Out

Every great heist flick ends the same way: the job’s done, the loot’s secured and the crew stroll off looking effortlessly cool. On a yacht, the loot isn’t casino cash — it’s 12 glowing smiles and, hopefully, a tip envelope fat enough to make everyone forget the sleepless nights.

The guests disembark, laden with tans, shopping bags and the blissful belief that it really was “like being on a nonstop holiday.” The crew line up to wave them off, still smiling, still polished, secretly wondering if their uniform buttons will leave permanent dents in their skin.

The passerelle lifts. The quay is empty. And just like that, the illusion fades.

Below deck, hair comes down, uniforms come off, and someone finally exhales. The chef eats cereal from the box. The deckies are horizontal. The chief stew sips wine out of a coffee mug. The captain? Already planning the next one.

“It isn’t a casino job,” says Duncan, “but it’s a job all the same — pulled off with precision, patience and a lot of grit. The best flex,” he grins, “is not getting beat.”

Unlike Ocean’s 11, the only thing this crew stole was the show — and maybe a sneaky nap in the lazarette.

*Name has been changed.