Sue Barr sold her home to live on a cruise ship. Picture: Supplied
A woman who sold her home and everything she owned to live and work aboard a cruise ship has lifted the lid on the true nightmare experienced by staff who choose such a life.
Sue Barr was in her 60s when she boarded a ship in Sydney in 2024 to begin her cruise ship dream.
The decision to uproot her life for a stint on the ocean followed a tumultuous period in Barr’s life which resulted in her decision to sell off her home.
“I was deep in debt from years of juggling single motherhood by choice, building my photography business in an ever-competitive field, and trying to keep an older home from falling apart,” she wrote on Mamamia.
“At one point, I had planned an extended stay in Costa Rica, the tropical reset I was craving, but then my furnace broke down, and the trip evaporated. I needed emotional rejuvenation, but instead I got a new heating system.
“I did not just want a change of scenery. I needed one. Financially. Emotionally. Spiritually. So I sold everything, including my house.”
Discussions with a friend who worked as a sommelier aboard cruise ships cemented Barr’s decision to chase her oceanic dream.
Barr said social media algorithms spurred her on after cruise ship photography jobs began appearing in her feeds.
MORE: Woman drops $2.9m on cruise ship home
MORE: Couple sell home to live on 15-year cruise
Sue Barr sold her home to live on a cruise ship. Picture: Supplied
MORE: Dark side of living on a cruise ship exposed
MORE: We earn $200k and live free on cruise ship
In the end, she was accepted for jobs with two different cruise lines. Then came her first mistake.
“I accepted without doing the one thing I should have done: researching what it actually meant to be a crew member on a corporate cruise ship,” she said.
Barr sold her home in May 2024 before beginning the arduous task of securing a Seafarer Certificate, the qualification required to work at sea on cruise ships.
What followed was weeks of classes, tests and medical exams that penalised women of her age – all at her expense, course.
“If you think working on a cruise ship has glamour or prestige, let me gently ruin that for you,” she said.
“The medical assessment included a functional capacity test and a nuclear stress test. I had to climb a 50-centimetre step 150 times in five minutes without passing out. It’s a very specific kind of humiliation: sweating in front of strangers, while they hold a clipboard.
“Then came the treadmill, the IV, the blood pressure cuff, and the feeling that I was auditioning for my own job. Ageism and sexism are not just alive in the cruise industry; they are baked into the onboarding process.”
Having finally passed all her tests, Barr eventually made her way to Sydney, Australia, where she officially joined the crew of her ship.
MORE: True cost of living on a cruise ship revealed
MORE: What you get in a $86m cruise ship home
Barr joined her ship in Sydney.
MORE: Man reveals shock of living on cruise for 25 years
It was here the true nightmare really began.
Barr said her age and life experiences differed vastly from the majority of crew members who were young and from developing countries.
This disconnect made her entry into cruise life difficult.
“I failed miserably at the art of superficial compliance,” she said.
“On-board, there was a thin line between protocol and performance. The rules felt murky, shifting depending on who you would ask.
“I learnt the rules the way you learn them in a dysfunctional family: by getting in trouble. Not until I did something wrong did anyone explain the right procedure.”
Barr’s idealistic view of cruise life being all cocktails and sunsets was dispelled in the form of gruelling hours and poor living conditions.
The photographer said there was little that appealed to her despite the fact her accommodation was free.
“Living quarters were a masterclass in minimalism. Imagine sharing a windowless shoebox with a roommate, where the bathroom golden rule was: do not flush toilet paper (due to the risk of clogging it),” she said.
“A steamy shower could trigger the fire alarm, leading to a high-pitched wail that pierced the corridors and often took over an hour to silence.
“I thought I would see the world, eat delicious culinary delights, be celebrated for my experience and passion, and deliver images unique to my style.
“Most days, I chose rest over meals, not out of preference, but due to relentless hours, tight deadlines, and the ever-present threat of termination if expectations were not met.”
Barr’s life at sea came to abrupt end after just a few months while docked in Singapore.
Her ship had stopped taking passengers to enable full-scale and maintenance of the vessel. Despite being a photographer with no passengers to photograph, Barr was put to work.
“I was issued a boiler suit, plus safety shoes, and assigned to oversee an influx of international contractors who would live and work on-board,” she said.
“Dry dock conditions were brutal. Airconditioning was minimal or non-existent. Water was often rationed. Meals resembled slop, and we frequently ran out of basics.
“When something got into my eye, it caused a corneal abrasion that would not heal. The specialist confirmed the truth; I needed a few days of rest in the dark. I was put on medical leave.”
“Wearing the eye patch the ophthalmologist deemed necessary, and with less than an hour’s notice, I was sent home on a 28-hour flight from Hong Kong to Miami.”
While Barr remains philosophical about her time at sea, admitting there were some nice moments in Sydney and Singapore, she maintains her experience should serve as a warning to those considering life aboard a cruise ship with rose-tinted glasses.
English (US) · 