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Damn right, we’re unionizing. Management wants ten shipwrecks a week. It’s ridiculous. Last year it was eight, who knows what it’ll be next year.
Oh, sure, being a siren seems glamorous. Lounge all day, enchant some sailors, punish mankind for mistaking the beautiful for the good. What most folks don’t understand is the amount of work needed to make that possible.
Life at sea is a two-way street. While we’re trying to catch men, men are trying to outsmart us. Just the other day, a ship came by with the captain hanging from the mast. You have to understand, a ship is huge for us. This isn’t some rinky-dink row boat; this is a full captain and crew situation. Management is desperate for these kinds of big-ticket crashes.
So we’re working our magic, and the captain’s going wild, but the ship doesn’t change course. He’s yelling and yelling, but the rowers don’t budge. Right as they’re about to leave our sight, we notice the whole crew has their ears plugged with beeswax. Beeswax! Now, you try and explain that to your boss. We’re still getting criticized for it.