Why Diver Attrition Is 65-70% in the First Two Years

By Ray Whitfield, ADCI-certified commercial dive supervisor. Reviewed by Dana Whitcombe, technical reviewer.

Commercial Diving Contractors Alabama | Commercial Diving Contractors Alaska I remember a kid on a bridge job outside Portland. He'd been out of dive school for three weeks, and he got his hand caught in a sling on a concrete lift. He panicked, surfaced without decompression stops, and quit at 3 p.m. He handed in his drysuit and said, 'This isn't what I thought it'd be.' I've seen that scene play out a hundred times in one form or another. The 65-70% number in the title? It's not from a formal study. It's the number that every jumpin' supervisor I know carries around in his head. Call it a guess, but it's a good guess. Two years from the day they get their ADCI card, two-thirds of new commercial divers are doing something else. That's a lot of wrecked dreams and a lot of tuition money. This isn't a complaint. It's an explanation. Because if you're looking at this career, or if you're already in the weeds, you need to know what's real. And the first thing that's real is: most divers don't make it.

It's Not The Water, It's The Life

The work itself is hard, but that's not what scares people off. It's everything around the dive. On most industrial jobs, the actual underwater time is maybe three or four hours out of a 12-hour day. The rest is rigging, tending lines, cleaning equipment, doing safety briefs, watching the weather. You're wet and cold before you even hit the water. You stand there in your drysuit with sweat running down your back because the wetsuit is too hot, then you get in and it's 48 degrees. I've watched strong, fit guys turn to jelly after three weeks of that grind. I'm not talking about the deep offshore stuff either. Most of us start on inland jobs—dam intakes, water tanks, sewer outfalls. That's often zero visibility, silt, claustrophobic spaces. Some folks can't handle the feeling of being in a black pipe with a lifeline as their only tie to the surface. They think they're tough until they're actually in there. And then the anxiety is a physical thing, not a thought. Their breathing rate spikes, they burn through air, and they lose the ability to think clearly. That's not something you can train around; it's something you either manage or you don't.

The Money Trap (And I'm Not Blaming The Diver)

Here's the ugly part. Entry-level commercial divers don't get paid what people think. On a good inland job, you're making $18 to $24 an hour with maybe $50 per diem. That sounds okay until you realize you're not guaranteed 40 hours a week. And you're working outdoors, in waves, in freezing rain. Meanwhile, you're paying off a $20,000 to $40,000 school loan. The marketing from dive schools focuses on top-end offshore earnings—$100k plus. That's real, but it's not first-year money. It's 5-year money, and it's not guaranteed. There's also a systemic thing: the industry uses the 'tryout' model. New divers get hired for a season, maybe as tenders, and if they survive, they get more time. Some companies are great about it. Others just throw you in the water and see if you sink—metaphorically. That's fine for them, but it means the new diver is footing the bill for his own apprenticeship. I've had divers leave after the first month to go work for a plumbing company, and honestly, I can't blame them. The plumber gets a steady check, a truck, and a future.

What Actually Keeps You Under (Or Sends You Home)

The ones who stay—and I've supervised a few hundred—they have a specific look in their eye. It's not bulletproof confidence. It's more like a quiet willingness to be bad at something for a while. They show up early, they volunteer to pack the O-rings, they read the dive manual at lunch. They're not in it for the glamour. They've never seen a James Bond movie and thought, 'That's me.' They're usually the person who works with his hands and treats diving as a skill to bend to the job's needs. And they don't panic. That might sound simple, but it's the whole game. You can teach someone to use a stick welder. You can teach them to read a simple depth gauge. You can't teach them to keep their head when the silt kicks up and everything goes black. That's an internal thing. Divers who survive are the ones who accept the fear, remember their training, and unstrap the problem in front of them. You have to be a little calm under pressure. One job that stands out—we were installing an air lift system at a paper mill. The water was maybe 10 feet deep, but it was the kind of water that smells like wet insulation. My tender was a new guy, and he kept losing comms because he was clenching his teeth. I told him to slow his breathing, and I hear him say, 'I'm not afraid, I just hate the smell.' And maybe that's the real distinction—some guys hate the smell and stay anyway; others let it take over.

Supervisors: Stop Losing People (It's Cheaper To Keep Them)

A lot of attrition is the industry's own fault. We throw rookies at jobs that would break a veteran without any real introduction. I've seen supervisors treat new divers like a warm body, give them zero feedback, and then wonder why they don't come back. That's not toughness; that's waste. If you're a supervisor, treat the first two years like an apprenticeship, not a trial by fire. Pair a new diver with a good tender who can explain why, not just how. Give them checklists. Show them the damage—the folded lines, the scratched helmet—and tell them how to avoid it. Don't yell at a person for a mistake you didn't train them for. The other part is fair pay and fair hours. A divers' paycheck shouldn't depend on the grace of a weather forecast. If you can only guarantee 20 hours, tell them upfront. And don't take forever to let them dive. Some companies keep a tender for two years before they put him in the water—that's not training, that's cheap labor. Give them a chance to get wet early, even if it's just a simple bottom survey. The confidence that comes from a successful dive—even a boring one—carries over.

The Real Advice: If You're New, Do This

First, get yourself into the best shape of your life before you even start. Diving is about carrying heavy gear, climbing ladders, handling hoses. You're not a diver; you're an underwater road worker. Second, find a mentor. There's always a guy in the dive shack with 20 years' experience who likes to talk. Ask him about his first years. Third, learn to love being a tender. The best tenders are the best divers because they understand the job from both ends. You'll not just think, 'What do I need down there?' but 'What does the diver need from me?' And finally, question your own expectations. If you're getting a rush from pushing your limits, you'll wash out. The divers who last are the ones who are bored by the job—they're just doing a craft. The excitement is for tourists. So if you're a new diver, forget the adrenaline and learn the work. And if you're a supervisor, stop losing a third of your crew every year to poor onboarding and low pay. The industry's been doing this same stupid dance forever, and it's time to try something different.

Frequently Asked Questions

What is the commercial diving attrition rate in the first two years? Industry supervisors generally cite 65-70% — two-thirds of new divers leave within 24 months. It's not a formal statistic, but it's a widely repeated figure from people who run dive teams. Why does diving have such high attrition? The work is physically brutal, mostly tedious, and the pay isn't magic at first. Also, the psychological toll of working in dark, murky water isolates out a lot of people. Add in student debt and you've got a recipe for quitting. Can a new diver avoid being a statistic? Yes. Focus on being an outstanding tender, keep your fitness up, ask questions, and don't let fear make your decisions. Be patient about money. The first two years are an apprenticeship, not a payoff. What can employers do to improve retention? Give new divers realistic expectations, structured mentorship, a fair pay rate, and actual diving time early. Don't use them for cheap labor. Supervisors who do that consistently keep more people.