Think working on a luxury yacht sounds like a glamorous dream? Well, here’s what it’s REALLY like. A former superyacht stewardess shares what really happens below deck.
From cleaning sex toys to prepping a superyacht to deter pirates, former yacht stewardess Tegan’s* assumptions that working on a superyacht would be a glamorous way to explore the world, were quite quickly dashed.
Sure, you get paid a heap load of money, plus free food, accommodation and Instagram-worthy photos, but her expectations didn’t quite line up with reality when she finally got the job.
Tegan, who worked as a superyacht stewardess for two years, spoke to Capsule journalist Vivien Beduya about the dark side of working on a superyacht, and whether she recommends this line of work.
What got you into working for superyachts?
After uni, a lot of girls in my grade went yachting, I’d watch them do their yachting course and go off to Europe. I always wanted to go yachting, but I was in a relationship, then I got a job straight out of uni so I got stuck. I eventually landed a job in a travel agency, and one of the new hires had just finished up working on a superyacht. Something went off in me, I was still in my 20s, I was single then and thought this was the time to finally do it. I booked my week-long yachting course and gained my Standards of Training, Certification and Watchkeeping (STCW) certificate. The rest is history.
What types of people were you working for?
I mostly worked for ultra-wealthy people, often business owners with holding companies or umbrella companies, or investors. Some were families, others individuals, who used the yacht as a status symbol or for entertaining. If you’re really into celebrity culture and want to work for one, this would be the best way to do it. There are a lot of celebrities chartering yachts to just see the world on their time off. In my experience, I haven’t worked for a celebrity, but I’ve worked for a best friend of a celebrity, who also happened to be quite popular. In all cases, I had to sign an NDA.
What’s the most absurd request a guest ever asked of you?
I don’t know if this counts as absurd. Guests would ask you to do strange things like rinse their toothbrushes. They’d leave an absolute mess – literally imagine the foamy mess left on your toothbrush after brushing your teeth, and not turning on the tap to rinse it off. It’s not like they can’t do this menial task – it’s that they have someone to do it for them. If they need you to clean their sex toys, you did it.
SHUT THE FRONT DOOR, for real?
Yeah, they don’t wash their own sex toys. If they wanted you to fish out a bloody tampon from their toilet, you did it. You just have to.
I don’t know why you weren’t sure these would count as absurd!
I was probably just so used to that kind of thing. You see some things that you’re not supposed to see. Like I’ve “not seen” drugs on board. I’ve “not” had to confiscate them and destroy them immediately because it is highly illegal. However, it is different when you’re serving charter guests as opposed to the yacht owners. I’ve definitely witnessed some things I can’t elaborate on too much, things that would be unacceptable on land. But part of the job is understanding you’re there to do the role and not question what’s happening around you, which is such a moral dissonance. You see nothing and you become whoever they want you to be.
What were your expectations vs reality about the job?
There is a skewed public perception about working on superyachts, because of reality tv shows like Below Deck that paints it as a bit of drama, but it’s still so much fun. Technically, it is like that but it is tough and gruelling work. With the obvious physical and mental challenges of having to be fit and focused, there’s also mind numbing work like detailing the interior – a job that never seemed to end. I started my days at 5am, and got three hours of rest at some point in the day, then did more work. I sometimes finished at 2am depending on my shift. I also didn’t take for account how horrible the crew you’d be stuck with on water could treat you. Imagine being stuck with a bad crew for a month-long crossing – you now have to work and live with this new group of people you most likely have just met, too. There’s a lot of bullying that could go on within a crew. If they see anyone that shows any sign of weakness, they will take advantage of that because they don’t operate the same way we do on land, as I want to say, civilised. Because they have this very military mindset, and on the water there’s none of the same social rules. They can treat you however they want, as harsh as they want, and they can scream at you, too. If you’re on a boat with a bad crew, nothing’s really stopping them from making you disappear. That sounds so grim, but it’s true.
What kind of mistreatment did you experience from the crew?
My chief stewardess (head of the interior department) instructed me to clean the big windows on the bridge during really bad weather. It may sound like it wasn’t a super intense task, but the bridge contains the control room. To clean those big windows, you’ve got to get up in that space, basically crawling, during bad weather with seven metre waves. In fact, I don’t even know if we should have been sailing in that weather. I could fly back, hit all the controls, injure myself and somehow even get the boat off course. When the bosun (in charge of equipment and crew) saw me doing the task, he told me to get down and that I shouldn’t be doing that in such terrible weather. I said, “My chief told me to do this and if I go against that, I’ll get in trouble.” He demanded I get down anyway, and that he’d speak to my chief. That just showed me that my chief really didn’t care about my safety. It does make you question their morals, because you’re often at the mercy of their morals and ethics.
How about from any of the yacht owners?
I actually have worse experiences from friends of yacht owners than the owners themselves. My very first boat job, I worked for a wonderful and lovely family. They barely used the boat and probably had it for a status thing or to use it whenever they felt like sailing. They were the best guests ever when we sailed. But when they lent it to their friends, it was their friends who treated us poorly. Their friends weren’t as wealthy and they wanted that ego boost, to take pictures and all that. They would charter the boat for a night and we would just go off the harbour. There was a party on board once, and one of the guys couldn’t handle his alcohol, grabbed my face and started squishing it. I guess he thought it was funny or endearing, but it was highly inappropriate. The captain found out, pulled him aside and told him he’ll get kicked off the boat (he wasn’t really, but it was moreso a threat), and really drilled into him that he had to apologise to me. There’s also this unspoken rule that when you charter a yacht, you have to share the food and all the leftover goes to the crew. They were super drunk, and in the middle of the night, they told the captain they wanted all the food back right at that moment. The woman was saying we’d steal their stuff. Like, okay, nobody cares about your little bobs of chocolates and chips.
What other things did you have to watch out for at sea?
Part of the job is to do what we call ‘watch hours’. We went to the bridge, charted our journey and kept a lookout with binoculars. You’re looking for other vessels, for pirates, for things like icebergs or even people in trouble.
Wait, you have to watch out for pirates?
Absolutely. It’s not quite like Pirates of the Caribbean. Generally, it’s like getting a spam call. They present as dingy little boats and tell you they need help. It’s marine law that you must help someone in trouble on water, but you have to discern whether it’s a pirate trying to pillage or take command of the ship. When we sailed through this specific sea known for piracy, our defence method was quite funny because it was kinda like the Home Alone movie. We put dishwashing liquid on the deck, and we blew up fenders – it looks like big long balloons – and hung them all around the boat. If you make it too hard for them, pirates will leave you alone. That said, we also got lucky because there was an oil tanker behind us that acted like a chaperone.
What can living and working in the middle of the ocean do to a person?
If you have a good crew, it’s fun for a while. You enjoy the little moments and the days can go fast but it will take its toll. You need privacy, and often you share a cabin with another crew member. You need to walk on a street that isn’t floating and constantly moving. You need to stand and sit up straight in your bed rather than hunched over. And for the love of God, you need to hug people and that really doesn’t happen. We need eight hugs per day and months can go by, or some spend years on a boat and get no hugs. God forbid you’re stuck with a horrible crew, then you just put your head down and work. You don’t talk or laugh, and you just message friends and family in your hours of rest. You have to look for the little things to get you through. For me, it was to go out and watch the moonrise or sunsets. In the mornings, I get to see whales breaching the water, and realise this is what I’m doing it for.
I have to ask, because I know this is the tempting part about the job. How much was the pay?
As a junior stewardess, it’s between 3000-5000 USD or EUR (roughly NZ$6,000 – $10,000) per fortnight as a base salary. On top of that, if you’re on a charter, you make more in tips which is often an extra 5000 USD ($8,775) a week. At the end of a charter, the crew will split between 20,000 to $30,000 USD in tips (NZ$35,000 – $52,000).
Was the pay worth it?
That’s something I’ve grappled with. If I was younger, I would genuinely recommend this for an 18-year-old straight out of school. It teaches you so much and builds this grit strength within you – the mental, emotional and physical stamina. It’s the closest thing you can get to military training without being in the military. It is also a great way to travel, though not in the way people think. You’re not the guest when you’re working, but when you’re off the job and have months free in between, you have so much money to play with. But in terms of being isolated, missing family and friends and their milestones, you don’t meet new people or get to date – I really don’t know. At the end of it, when you calculate how much money you made against the hours you worked and the risk to your life, it made me realise that it was slave labour. Really, truly, it’s modern day slavery. I don’t know if it’s worth it. The yacht industry is pretty good at making it known you’re a glorified maid.
Would you go back?
Not at this stage in my life. Although, I swam in the ocean the other day and I really thought to myself, “Oh my god, I miss yachting. I love the ocean so much.” I think I just have to deal with the fact that I will always have that feeling probably even when I’m 95. Despite all the dark parts, if you’re working with a great crew and an owner who only has to show face, flaunt their money and rarely sails, then fantastic. That’s a unicorn, but you do find them. Would I go back? No, not at this stage. But I’m always tempted.
*Tegan has remained anonymous because she signed an NDA.
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About the Author:

Vivien Beduya is a video journalist and content creator at Capsule. She’s most passionate about inclusive storytelling that centres underserved communities, women’s health, mental health, travel, food and the ways technology shapes our everyday lives. She made a bold (and terrifying) career switch to journalism in her late 20s after years across banking, insurance and travel.
She’s worked for NewstalkZB and TVNZ’s youth news platform Re: News, and has also been published on 1News, NZ Herald, and Stuff. She was selected by the Asia New Zealand Foundation as an emerging journalist for the Splice Beta 2025 delegation in Chiang Mai, Thailand. Vivien lives in Auckland with her partner, close(ish) to the beach, and is always on the hunt for Auckland’s best affordable eats.
You can read other stories by Vivien here or email her here.


