Cinderella

By Maritime Union of Australia

It is a modern day fairy tale - a Cinderella from the suburbs. Worked like a slave from morning to night - injured & then abandoned.

But for her caring godfather & a princely rescue by the International Transport Workers' Federation, this young woman may not have survived to warn others about the dangers behind the seemingly glamourous life on board cruise liners

It was her first real job. Nineteen year old Cheri had dreamt of working on board a cruise ship since she was a little girl. She imagined tropical islands, palm trees and sunshine.

Her family paid $7,000 for her to study at a private college as a beauty therapist. After graduating she was invited back to be interviewed by talent scouts. Crewing agent Steiner travel the world taking their pick of the most beautiful and promising young women.

"I was so excited when I was chosen," said Cheri. "It was my mum's dream for me. Her friend had worked on a cruise liner years ago and had a wonderful time. It sounded so glamourous. We always talked and imagined one day I could get a job like that, too. Everyone was saying 'You're so lucky. It's the best opportunity you could get. I want to do what you're doing.' It seemed the ultimate job."

But Cheri's dream all to quickly became a living nightmare.

Cheri had to pay her own airfare to train in London along with dozens of other young women. But many also had to pay their way home again, rejected, tearful, without a job.

The fast track training was all geared towards producing sales girls - "you were judged a good beauty therapist if you could sell well," said Cheri. "All the girls said the training was terrible. Really intensive - three weeks seemed like three years. We all couldn't wait to get out of there. We thought once we were on the ship we'd have time to relax."

Cheri was flown to Miami where she joined the giant cruise liner Carnival Triumph. The spanking new (1999) 101,509 gross tonne passenger vessel flagged in the Bahamas and registered to Utopia Cruises of Miami US, sails the Caribbean, carrying up to 2642 passengers and 1,100 crew from all over the world.

"You just get told you've got this ship and you're going tomorrow. Pack your bags," said Cheri. "I was so nervous on the flight over. I'd never been to America. I'd always been very dependent on my mum. That was another reason I was going - to learn to be independent. It was so scary, but exciting too."

Cheri flew into Miami one day and sailed out the next.

"We got on the ship and we started work that day - Saturday, June 16, 2001. We were really jet lagged but it was straight into work until 10 that night."

Above deck the rich and famous pay up to US$3000 for the privilege of a private balcony suite. Below deck was another class altogether.

Cheri's three week experience on board was anything but a working holiday - more like a floating sweat shop - 12 hour shifts, six days a week, 8 am to 8 pm with training until 10 pm every second day, sleeping in cramped twin cabins each night and all day on her one day off and all for a weekly retainer of US$50. Like all the crew on board Cheri depended on tips and a commission from selling products and providing services to make money.

"Some girls would lie to get people to buy things," she said. "Like saying you had broken capillaries and had to buy something for it. All the time you would be thinking what can I get them to buy? We got eight and a half per cent commission on anything we sold."

As the new beauty therapist Cheri got the hardest job - giving massages to passengers, both men and women, one after the other - eight full body massages each day. And on Friday Cheri had to stay back after work and scrub the salon ceiling and walls, bottles and shelves until midnight.

Exhausted and disillusioned Cheri's experience at sea came to an abrupt end back in Miami on Friday, July 6, when she suffered a crippling injury in a workplace accident now subject to legal action.

Cheri was lying on the floor, a towel underneath her foot to soak up the blood, while her workmates ran to get help.

They returned with a nurse and a wheel chair and lifted Cheri off the floor. The ship's doctor did a few tests and determined the achilles tendon was torn. Cheri would not be able to work and the ship was about to sail. They had to get her off.

So Cheri was promptly bundled off the ship with one change of dress and undies, $300 and a scrap of paper with the name of a hospital and the telephone number of someone called Stephanie.

Left on the tarmac beside the ship in the sweltering tropical sun, Cheri watched the Carnival Triumph set sail.

Crippled, bleeding and in pain Cheri waited an hour dizzy and sweating in the heat. But the promised cab never came. Eventually someone wheeled her into the shade and called an ambulance which took her to the
nearest hospital.

"The doctor didn't know the tendon was completely severed, only the scan would show that, but he did know I'd need surgery. He put my ankle in a soft caste and stitched up the wound. I got the nurse to ring the woman called Stephanie. She told me to go to the Quality Inn, they'd arranged a room for me."

Unable to explain what was wrong with her foot, Cheri got the doctor to talk to Stephanie. She heard him arguing over the phone, saying Cheri was not well enough to travel back to Australia - she'd need surgery first.

By the time Cheri arrived at the hotel it was late at night. They said they had not heard of her.

"I had to beg them to let me stay. I wouldn't have known what to do."

The hotel was far from ideal - no room service and a long walk to a lift. Cheri had to pay hotel staff to bring her food. This was her home for the next month.

"There was a big, big panic, when I got through to my parents," said Cheri. "I told them I was falling over as I wasn't used to crutches. I was still quite weak and totally alone. I had trouble getting into the bath and to the lift. I had two or three falls. Each time it made the pain in my ankle worse."

Only after the family contacted a knowing godfather and only after a call to the International Transport Workers' Federation, did things begin to look up.

"I was boarding an aircraft when I got the call on my mobile," said godfather Bryant Roberts. "All the warning lights went on. Who would we turn to for help? We knew no-one there. The people on the cruise ship never phoned us to say Cheri had had an accident. She had no money, no clothing, no bank account, no credit card, no lawyer."

Bryant Roberts rang the Maritime Union rooms in Perth and was put onto ITF inspector Ross Storer.

"My instinct was the MUA would have the international connections," he said. "I was right. The unions were her saviour. One phone call from me to the MUA and everything swung into action. Ross was known to everyone. It all happened in hours - just two phone calls and we got a lawyer through the ITF who specialises in crew claims. The ITF really came to her rescue."

Cheri was in contact with Jim Given from the ITF cruise campaign office in Miami and he gave her the name of a lawyer, promising to help if she needed anything.

Two days later a driver picked Cheri up and took her to the company doctor for a scan, which confirmed that the achilles tendon was completely severed. He was scheduled to operate the next day.

But Cheri chose the chief of orthopedics at a major Miami hospital to do the operation. It was a success. Cheri will one day soon walk again - without crutches.

Now back home with her family in WA township of Mandurah, Cheri remembers it all as a bad dream. Thanks to union intervention she is on around $1,000/week in compensation payments and her solicitor is fighting for a lump sum payment as well.

But sadly Cheri's experience is all too common as the crew on board the Ocean Glory I detained in Dover in July can attest (see box). .

"I don't feel that they cared for me as a person," she said. "It was like I was a machine. Once you're broken they discard you and replace you. Once you are no longer working and making money for them, they don't care. It's so easy to get rid of you and get someone else."