looked at him and frowned, having a pretty good idea how this could happen.
“You’d better set up a court for tomorrow so I can hear it from the horse’s mouth. So what does Keeley look like? Blonde, brown…?”
“They’re all blonde, sir, except Mark.”
“I thought you said Mark wasn’t involved.”
“I mean Mark, the bartender. He has black hair. But don’t worry, they’re easy to recognize because Kelley has blue eyes and a scratch on her cheek. Kylee and Keeley have brown eyes. It’s easy enough once you know what to look for.”
I sighed again, because I started to wish that for recognition purposes at least one of them had a black eye. I sent the security officer away and studied the report a few more times to make sure I had it all straight.
The next day, we met in my conference room – the chief engineer, chief officer, hotel manager, and the human resources manager all reading their copies of the report. The chief engineer had even more problems getting the facts straight than I had the previous day. With a growl, he threw the report on the table.
“You know, I don’t understand a thing of all this. I thought that this Keeley was dating one of my guys, but apparently I’m wrong.”
The Human Resources Manager laughed. “She did, but that was two weeks ago. After that she dated Donny and now it’s Dirk.”
The hotel manager joined in. “I know Dirk. Isn’t he the sound technician? I thought he was seeing…”
It was time to break in before I lost track of all the names again. It had cost me enough time as it was to get everything straight in my mind. The security officer stuck his head around the door.
“They’re here, sir.”
“Send them in.”
The first to enter clearly was Kelley. Nice looking, but way too heavy on the makeup. Then the others came in, but who was that brunette? The only one I was sure of was Mark, because he had black hair.
I turned to Keeley.
“So you misbehaved in the bar and harassed others. There now have been numerous complaints about you, so what do you have to say for yourself?”
Sternly I looked her in the eyes. They were blue! Quickly I scanned my notes. What were they again, brown or blue? Before I could find out, Kylee exploded.
“Complaints about me? From who! I never did anything wrong, only stopped a fight. She pointed at the brunette standing next to her. She’s the one you need to talk to!”
“Wait a minute now.” I exclaimed. Where is Kelley? She should be here, as well.”
“I’m Kelley,” yelled the girl I thought was Keeley. “Who did you think?”
“You told me she had a scratch on her cheek!” I hissed at the security officer standing behind me. She overheard me.
“I’m Kelley, and I have a scratch. Took me an hour this morning to cover it up. I never use this much makeup, but do you really think I’m going to walk around with that thing on my face?”
“But then, where is Keeley?”
“I’m Keeley,” the brunette said, stepping forward.
“You told me she was a blonde!” I turned to the security officer again, who by now had a thoroughly confused look on his face.
“Oh, that,” Keeley smiled. “I didn’t like being blonde anymore, so yesterday I had my hair colored brown. You like it?” she asked coyly.
“Yes…I mean, no! Oh, never mind the color. So you assaulted Kelley, and Kylee interfered. Her boyfriend Mark witnessed it all.
“I’m not her boyfriend,” the bartender chimed in. “I’m dating Dirk now.”
“Yes, you’re right, I got it turned around. What do you mean you’re dating Dirk? Just forget it. I don’t want to know.”
“I want to know!” I’m dating Dirk,” Keeley yelled.
“Well, not since last night. He’s with me now!” Mark gloated.
The court lasted another ten minutes in which the Dirks, Kelleys, Keeleys, Kylees, and Marks were freely mixed up with even more names of both sexes. At some point in time Kylee had insulted Simon when he was dating Kelley. Donny was not entirely innocent either, because he hadn’t paid his bar bill in months, and on and on it went.
The chief engineer lost track early on and glassy-eyed, stirred his coffee while I made a small spreadsheet to better understand the whole situation. It was of little use because each time one girl opened her mouth, I had to add another confusing fact. In the end I dismissed them all.
The hotel manager rummaged through the desk drawer. “Thought you had some aspirin here. Got a terrible headache. So what do we do now?”
I rubbed my eyes and looked at the security officer who by now had taken an interest in studying the ceiling. Then an idea came to mind, maybe not the most ethical one, but a very bright one all the same.
“Why don’t you just write another report? One with the conclusion that the issue is too complicated to investigate further, and we’ll leave it at that.”
Everyone’s face visibly brightened, because after all, this was the whole truth and nothing but the truth.
Chapter 2
Kitchen Inspection
Those who have never worked on cruise ships might wonder what this story is about after reading the title. The crew of every cruise ship on which I’ve sailed knows exactly what I’m talking about, even those who’ve been in their jobs for only a few months. It’s the weekly check of every food preparation area on the ship, whether it’s the bars, pantries, storerooms, or kitchens. The inspections are carried out by the senior officers and are very thorough to ensure that the highest possible food safety standards are met.
Having worked on these ships now for many years, I am often amazed at how poorly many shore establishments compare to the high standards on board cruise ships. One of the side effects of having done these inspections so many times is that I expect every place I visit to measure up to similar standards. Because of this I have embarrassed my wife on several occasions when we go out for dinner and by a stroke of fate, we’re seated in such a way that I can catch a glimpse of the kitchen operation. Invariably I go through the checklist ingrained in my brain. Pffff! No time or temperature control! My God, raw meat stored on top of cooked meat! Can I believe I’m watching the cook taste food every time with the same spoon? My wife will roll her eyes and try to hush me up, but usually to no avail.
Walking out of a restaurant is a fairly uncommon thing. The manager usually asks the reason for this sudden departure in an effort to save a customer or to make a show as to how much they care to know why. Rarely is the answer appreciated. Managers invariably turn red in the face and undoubtedly wish to never see you again. I’m only too happy to comply.
Standards on cruise ships haven’t always been this high. In the
