The cabinmate on a cruise ship can make a huge difference to life onboard. Depending on who we share our tiny cabin with, it can be a challenging experience or a great one. Here are some of my general experiences and honest advice for everyone working on cruise ships.

Adjust your tolerance level

We can tolerate our environment—on a cruise ship or on land—but only up to a certain point. Sometimes we realize that the more we tolerate, the harder it becomes, especially when you’re sharing a shoebox-sized cabin (6–7 square meters) with a random person from another nationality and culture.

It’s honestly a miracle how we learn to adapt to other people and backgrounds. That flexibility is a skill every crewmember needs to survive the demanding cruise ship environment. We all have different beliefs and experiences. We grew up in completely different circumstances. Yet we still have to get along and maintain respect. Just because someone eats different food, has different beliefs, or wears extra layers doesn’t mean we can’t live peacefully with them.

Give people time to adjust

In my ten years working on cruise ships, I shared cabins with crewmembers from more than 70 countries. Amazingly, I never had any major issues with my cabinmates.

The most important thing: when someone makes a mistake that affects your privacy or rest, give them a chance to correct it. If your cabinmate wakes you up by slamming the door, don’t run straight to MSA to request a cabin change. Talk to the person first, explain the issue, and try to find a solution—because even if you change cabins, there’s no guarantee the next roommate will be better. Sometimes it can be worse.

A roommate story (and a lesson)

I once had a roommate who was my paisano—probably one of the worst cabinmates I ever had. He wasn’t friendly at all, even though I tried hard to keep a normal level of daily conversation. I’d ask how his day was, or how his family was back home, and I’d get blank replies—usually one or two words.

I tried to respect him, but he didn’t care. And it’s hard not to care when you’re sharing the smallest cabin in the world with someone. Sooner or later, you have to communicate and adjust to each other’s needs. That’s respect. But in this case, it didn’t work.

I worked in the bar and often finished around 2:00 a.m. By then he was already asleep, because our departments and schedules were different. I would gently open the heavy metal cabin door (those doors had strong magnets—if you let them close too fast, they would slam). I’d come in quietly, on my toes, and turn on only the small light above the sink. I’d slowly open the cabinet to get my stuff.

Then I’d go into the shared bathroom (on some ships, two cabins share one toilet with two doors). When I showered, I did everything as quietly as possible. I brushed my teeth gently. When I climbed the ladder to the upper bed, I moved the curtain carefully. But the moment I took the first step into bed, I’d hear my paisano mumbling and breathing heavily to show he “couldn’t sleep.”

If I had a superpower to enter the cabin and be in bed in one second, that would be great. But I’m human. I needed to shower and brush my teeth—and I was always respectful about it.

In the morning, though, he acted completely differently. He’d turn on all the cabin lights loudly. He’d bang the toilet door and even sing. He’d use the cabin phone to call friends and talk for half an hour, knowing I was sleeping.

If I needed to call home, I’d buy a $10 phone card and go into the crew corridor between cabins. I’d sit near the crew stairways and talk to my family for an hour—certainly not inside the cabin while my roommate was sleeping.

So I kindly told him I would appreciate it if he could be quieter during my rest time. Good sleep matters, especially when you’re working 12-hour days. Instead of adjusting, he got worse.

One night, while I had work the next day, he brought three friends into the cabin. They were banging around, laughing loudly, and showing zero concern that I was trying to sleep. It was 4:30 a.m. when I jumped down from the upper bed—only in my underwear—and told them:

“I know you want to party, and you have the freedom to do it, but you don’t care that I’m here trying to rest.”

I shouted at my roommate: “Either you adjust and learn manners, respect, and care for others—or get your selfish, arrogant ass out of this cabin right now!”

He froze. He didn’t say anything. He only mumbled, “Sssorry,” and they all rushed out. I didn’t mean to scare them, but honestly—they deserved it.

Don’t mistake my kindness for weakness

I’m kind, friendly, welcoming, and easy to adapt—but everyone has limits. A glass can only hold so much water. When it’s too full, it overflows.

I like this saying: Don’t mistake my kindness for weakness.

Sadly, many people onboard (and on land) do exactly that. My cabinmate took advantage because I was too nice and too willing to adjust to his needs.

I’m not saying you should be rude to your cabinmates and expect peace in return. It’s about balance. With people who show care and respect, be even nicer back. But for those who take your kindness for granted, sometimes teaching them a lesson is necessary. It costs energy—but sometimes it’s worth it to protect your dignity.

Setting standards matters

After I finally had enough, my roommate stayed in the cabin for two more weeks before signing off. During those two weeks, he was respectful and acted like a different person. Sometimes that’s the only way people learn.

And remember: even if you request a cabin change, it can take weeks or even months depending on availability. In many cases, the fastest solution is to set clear standards and make it known what acceptable cabin behavior looks like.

Be kind, be humble, and always respect others—but also protect your boundaries.

Have a wonderful contract!