Yachting is a word-of-mouth industry wearing a professional costume. Jobs are posted, sure — but the best ones are filled by "I know someone" before the listing exists. I've been hired through an agent, word of mouth, a fellow yachtie, LinkedIn and Instagram. Here's how the web actually works.
Stay in a crew house in Antibes, Palma or Fort Lauderdale at the start of a season, and you're living inside the grapevine. The deckhand across the hall knows a boat that just lost its chef; someone's chief stew mate mentions an opening over dinner. Be the person others want to recommend — because a recommendation out here is someone spending their own reputation on you.
Walking the docks asking for daywork feels old-school because it is — and it still works, especially for green crew. Every daywork stint is a networking event where you're paid to demonstrate your work ethic. Do a delivery well, and three crews now know your name. This industry is small; it remembers.
Register with the agencies, then actually build rapport. Check in politely, update them after every stint, thank them when something works out. Agents place people they remember and trust — the chef who's pleasant and reliable gets the call before the stranger with the better CV.
I was one of the first documenting the behind-the-scenes life of a yacht chef, and it has genuinely brought me work — captains, crew and even guests look you up. You don't need followers; you need a clean, professional gallery of your food and your attitude. When someone asks "anyone know a chef?", make it effortless to vouch for you with a link.
Your reputation travels faster than you do. The crew you're kind to this season are chief stews and captains in five years. Leave every boat — even the bad ones — professionally, with a reference and relationships intact. Persistence and grafting got me from a dive boat to superyachts; the network I built along the way did the rest.