|She looks how I feel right about now|
I don't mean that in a, please say something nice to me way. I mean that in the truest sense of not being good at a thing.
I am not a good deckhand.
It's a crushing realization. More so when I've been told I am embarrassing the company. Especially when I know it's the truth.
So that is the reality I have been dealing with the last few days.
I suppose I could quit. It crossed my mind. And the work is actually fucking hard work. There is not a moment's respite while on a charter boat. I have truly gained a new level of respect for the guys who deckhand on a fishing boat.
Frankly, I asked the boss how close I am to being fired.
He didn't answer, he just told me what time to show up the next day.
It is humbling to realize I don't know a fucking thing about something I thought would be easy. That's fucking arrogance for you.
So is this: The boss is going to have to shove me out the fucking door because, fuck that.
Those moments in between losing gear overboard, falling on my face, being told I am fucking up too much are the reason I wanted to do this in the first place.
The sharks I watch hunting through bait fish schools up close.
The giant sea turtles that get me screaming, RIGHTEOUS! RIGHTEOUS!
The dolphins that toy with us when they steal our catch - they don't just take it, they let you reel it in, then grab it and swim before they let go so you can reel a bit before they grab it again. It's a game to them. One a fisherman never wins but, can't walk away from.
The sea just being the biggest part of this big blue ball and the humbling realization that the only reason it hasn't swallowed me whole is because it hasn't decided to.
I fucking love this job.
I fucking suck at this job.