Logbook: Help Wanted

I’ve always felt like I live a double life. On one side is my boating life; from spring through fall, a large portion of my time involves lines, fenders and waypoints. But when freezing temperatures envelop New England, my other passion begins, that as a youth and high school wrestling coach.

I have boating friends that I’ve grown close to and a wrestling community that I’m close with, but the two groups rarely overlap. I thought better of my church and state separation this past spring as I was preparing for waxing and bottom painting. Looking out our living room window one morning, the Bertram never looked bigger. As the weather got warmer, our little ship was looking damn near like a Sunseeker.

“What’s the point of training all these kids if I can’t get a hand with some boat work?” I mentioned to Karen. “Maybe I should see if a couple wrestlers want to wax and paint.”

She enthusiastically supported the idea.

I reached out to two of my wrestlers, who competed for me in high school. Hard workers, they jumped at the chance to make some extra cash without fully knowing what they were signing up for. I also invited my 10-year-old neighbor, Blake, who waxed with me last year, as much for comic relief as for his elbow grease.

The morning we were set to wax and paint the boat, Blake showed up with another youth wrestler whom he had over for a sleepover, and yet another kid from the block saw the commotion and asked to join. I laughed and shook my head. “Why not? Come on over,” I replied.

I’d waxed and painted countless boats alone, now I had a driveway boatyard with five employees to manage. Before they could unionize, I channeled my inner Mr. Miyagi and showed my high schoolers how to wax on and wax off. I set the young guns off with rakes to make sure Dan’s Boatyard looked pristine.

I said a prayer to the boatyard gods that they would all stay out of trouble while I took a couple of meetings. I emerged around lunchtime to walk the yard and inspect the work. The waxing team had finished the boat and were enjoying their contract-guaranteed coffee/phone break. The yard crew lost a member but managed to pick up a few leaves while subsequently digging up my lawn. You win some, you lose some, I thought, questioning my hands-off management style.

“Anybody want lunch?” might be just about the stupidest question you can ask a cadre of teens and preteens. I reminisced about the $5 foot-long as I paid for 48-inches of Subway sandwiches. Still, it will be remembered as one of my most memorable lunch breaks.

With another meeting looming, I paid off my youngest employees and tasked the high schoolers with painting the bottom. They did so well with the waxing, I may have been a little too scant with the details when setting them off with pails of blue paint. I handed them each a tarp, rags and paint thinner, urging them to keep my driveway black.

I expected they’d make quick work of the paint. When I checked on their progress after a 30-minute call, I realized I’d made a mistake. I’d given them both a roller and brush but neglected to explain the brush was only for some of the tighter areas. Blue paint flecks covered the driveway. All I can say is thank God I had the big can of paint thinner on hand. I cleaned the driveway and helped them finish.

I ripped through the painting while they pushed paint brushes around like Bob Ross. Still, time went fast as they chatted about the wrestling season ahead and their plans/promises for summer training.

Before long, my tenure as a boatyard manager had come to an end. I paid my employees, thanked them and dropped them back off at their homes. One of them promised to put the money he made to his wrestling training fund. The other’s mother texted me afterwards thanking me for helping to teach her son the value of a hard day’s work.

As a kid, my first job was waxing hulls and painting bottoms for family friends. I’m sure I left plenty of paint in their driveways and missed more than a few spots that they needed to wipe off. I have a new appreciation now for those who hired me in those early days and helped me to understand that wrestling toughness was transferable to actual work and that there would always be a place for those unafraid to roll up their sleeves. It’s a lesson I’m thankful to be able to pay forward.

View the original article to see embedded media.

This article originally appeared in the June 2023 issue of Power & Motoryacht magazine.

Source: https://www.powerandmotoryacht.com/column/logbook-help-wanted