Dutch Harbor, Alaska circa 2008

The salty wind of the Bering Sea swept across the docks of Dutch Harbor, and the cool gust provided some relief for the young deckhand working relentlessly.

Mack Morrison was eager; eager to prove to his family that he deserved a place on the family boat and as a part of the family business. His father had been running the wheelhouse of the Eagle’s Take for nearly two decades, putting food on the table year after year after year.

And now that Mack was out of high school, he was motivated to be a part of the family business.

He carefully knotted the mends to the crab pot in front of him, which was weathered from sitting out all winter. He had roughly 50 more pots to fix up before they loaded up and pushed out to the crabbing grounds, which would probably take him another 10-15 hours.

Mack’s back ached, and his fingers were already raw, but if he knew it would be a bad look if he complained on his first day at the docks. The rest of his dad’s crew were already ribbing him as their ‘Green Horn’ new guy; the rookie they would disrespect and demean during the entire trip.

And Mack knew that his dad wasn’t going to give him any special treatment either.

“Hey dipshit!” a voice yelled from the far side of the dock, which prompted Mack to instinctively look over.

A group of men all began laughing together.

“See, I told you he would answer to that!”

The men were the other deckhands aboard the Eagle’s Take, and Mack was pretty sure he just earned himself a nickname.

“Let’s roll with ‘Dipshit’ whenever we need that bait bitch!” yelled one man while high fiving another.

Mack could feel his chest burning with embarrassment, but he knew it was all part of the process. He was going to experience an incredible amount of disrespect while simultaneously enduring the hardest job in the world.

He welcomed it.

He knew what this crucible could do in terms of forging a real man.

He wanted to be a real man, just like his father.