The Acceptance

Either Stacy's standards weren't as high as I thought or Grazina gave me a better rating on my dancing than I had anticipated, because shortly after my dance audition, Stacy emailed to say I'd been accepted. I must confess to mixed emotions. I was very pleased and flattered to have reached a goal I set for myself but way in the back of my mind was a nagging feeling of concern about facing the unknown. But Phil, I thought: where's your sense of adventure? So I reveled in being approved for a gig Stacy promoted as "...limited to the top candidates..." and buried my concerns. A few days later I received Stacy's contract, which I signed and returned. With it came a lot of information on being a host that included what to wear (I'll get to that later) and (a huge section on) "attitude/impression." This admonished me to remember I would be "on stage" whenever I was in public, that I must be "approachable" at all times, that I should take the time to "learn guests' names" (depending on the ship, there could be as many as 700 passengers), and that I must participate in all ballroom dancing. I would be expected to also participate in daily activities, go ashore with shore excursions, invite guests each evening to sit at my table - the ideal combination was described as one couple, one single man and four women traveling alone - and dance each evening until midnight or until the last woman traveling alone left the lounge. I must remember that I was to be an extension of the ship's staff and a goodwill ambassador for the cruise line. I must uphold Stacy's organization's reputation by being a "...consummate professional who was pleasant and easy to work with." At the end of the cruise, I would be evaluated by both the guests and the ship's staff and my ability to continue to be a host would depend on these evaluations. In other words, this was really a sales position. But I've sold before, even been a sales manager. I could do that. All of that.
A week later, Stacy offered me a specific cruise. Unfortunately, the entertainment director of Silver Sea, a cruise line with which I've traveled several times, decided I needed more experience before joining one of his ships. I was disappointed. (I've always wanted to sail from Santiago to Buenos Aires). But Stacy assured me that the Regent Seven Seas line was equally prestigious and catered to a similar clientele. She offered me a thirty-day cruise on the Regent Voyager from Cape Town, South Africa, to Fort Lauderdale. The route was the last two legs - Cape Town to Rio and Rio to Lauderdale - of a sixty day cruise that began in Athens. It sounded exciting. I've never been to Cape Town and always wanted to go there. I've been to Rio but way back in 1971. Other ports included Walvis Bay in Namibia, St. Helena (the island that was home to Napoleon's final exile), some additional ports on the coast of Brazil, Antigua, Barbados, San Juan and finally Fort Lauderdale. I liked the itinerary. But that old apprehension popped up from my subconscious, tapping me on the back and asking if I really wanted to be at sea for thirty days in this position for the first time. Wouldn't a shorter cruise be a better way to start? I posed this question to Stacy, and she agreed, but she had no shorter cruise coming up and she thought I'd be ideally suited for the one she was offering me. We agreed that I'd think about it for a few days; she wouldn't offer it to anyone else until I'd reached a decision. I tucked the issue into the darkened room in my mind, the place where I traditionally ponder my most serious questions. Should I? Or shouldn't I?