Park Audit for my Hospitality class.

Secret Shopper

“You're one with the mouse!”

“Stop pointing that way!”

“Why do you keep singing?”

My family was convinced I had been brainwashed when they came down to see me, and that after this program I'd never be the same again. And you know, it's true. Luckily, it's all for the best, because I've found that being here has instilled Disney's quality standards, imbued me with a second culture, and taught me how to carry myself-- professionally-- in front of others. But like all things, there are those good points and bad points, the latter of which become glaringly obvious when you know how this well-oiled machine should work. I realized that I had become a permanent secret shopper.

I chose Magic Kingdom because it's the iconic park that should uphold the tradition we were taught. It's where the magic is at!

I arrived just when the 3 o'clock was beginning, which is always a good way to start the day. Unbiasedly speaking, Magic's parade has nothing on Hollywood's Block Party Bash, but I'm not here to do an audit on the parades (I do that mentally anyway!). I've been trying to get my friend into Vinylmations and pins, so we stopped by Exposition Hall to buy her first Vinylmation. The cashier, a girl named Caitlin, did not really greet us-- she was more like an automated robot, ringing my friend up. Before we had come to the desk, she [Caitlin] had offered to open the Vinylmation box of the guest before us. The moment my friend pulled out her card for a discount, however, it's like the atmosphere changed. She didn't even offer to open my friend's box, and proceeded onto the next guest behind us, abruptly ending our interaction... what little of it there was. I pointed this out to Vero, my friend, as she painstakingly opened the Vinylmation box. Have you ever tried to manually open one of those things? It's government sealed!

We moved on to Toontown, which I hadn't been to for years! This time, however, we were hunting for pins. Well, I was... Vero was just tagging along. We entered the Hall of Fame tent there, where I found the most amazing Mickey shaped pretzel pin. Why is this exciting? Well, I spend most of my time holed up in the pretzel kitchen at work, slaving over pans and ovens. Yes. It's like Stockholm syndrome-- you don't want to like it, but you break. Eventually. Vero said I had to have it, so ignoring the price (and trying not to die on the inside because of it in comparison to my paycheck), I approached the cue and waited. Geoff, the cashier, didn't even look at me. He reached for what I was buying, rang it up, got frustrated when I took a little time to pull out my cards. Wow. I can understand Tragic Kingdom isn't what it's cut out to be when you're actually working there, but put a little effort forward when you're in Toontown-- everyone there is practically in strollers! No 'have a magical day!' No 'thank you.' Zero, zilch. He completely ignored my existence. Luckily on the way out – pin creeping, stage one! – Disney merchandise regained favor with Jeremy, who greeted both my friend and I and chatted with us about pins. He even gave us stickers! I've never gotten a Mickey sticker before-- I was pretty stoked about that.

That's when I demanded to go to Frontierland, because (weirdly enough) it's my favorite place. We got there just in time for the little jamboree that was going on, and while watching Breer Bear dance, I decided to go buy a pretzel (I told you! Stockholm!). I was crossing my fingers for a better response from these fellow ODFers. Now, I don't want to say I was setting myself up for failure, but... I set myself up for failure. Wes, the cast-member at the register, just barely acknowledged my existence (at least he looked me in the eye?), didn't smile, didn't call out the order, the whole deal. There were two other, younger, cast-members with him, who stood around doing absolutely nothing. They chatted in Spanish with one another and the girl was too busy adjusting her clothes to even greet me. Wes had to remind them to fill the order before they even started moving. I just wanted to smack my face and sigh. After I'd gotten my pretzel (which was not that good, it was time for that batch to be thrown out), we walked back to Fantasyland.

After trading for my amazing pin trade with Jeremy in Toontown, where I found the most awesome Kim Possible pin, Vero saw the light. She wanted to buy some pins of her own! However, it wasn't until I found the pin of all pins for her that she actually went and bought a pin for herself to trade. As we were walking by It's a Small World, I paused to glance at a cast-members pin pouch-- and there, sitting like the holy grail, was a giant Hades pin. Now, I like the god of the underworld just as much as any other person, but Vero is OBSESSED with him. That's her Disney boyfriend, I feel. So when I pointed it out to her, she lit up like the fourth of July. Kimi, the cast-member we were haranguing was VERY friendly in spite of the busy-ness of the ride she was having to direct traffic for. She even flipped her pouch around when Vero told her she'd 'be right back' as she ran off to buy a pin to trade with. That's when I lost her. She ran into Fantasyland, I ran to Frontierland, and it just all went to pot.

Running back to Kimi (because I could not bear to see my friends first trade go awry!), I sacrificed my beloved tangram Goofy for Hades and bolted back into Fantasyland in search of Vero. To no avail. I felt like a lost parent. I headed back to It's a Small World, and lo! Vero was there-- when she spotted me, I handed her the Hades pin... and she handed me my Goofy pin, which she had saved. I HAD to turn around to thank Kimi, who was just glad we had found each other again.

The pin debacle/triumph made us both hungry, so we headed over to Cosmic Rays for some much-needed grub. While there, we were met with the most amazing server, Ben, who was adorably enthusiastic. He sang to the birthdays princesses and pirates, chatted with us, asked us about our pins. He was just a really nice guy who, from beginning to end, made us feel like he was only talking to us. It was a nice little dinner, and a cast-member in custodial, his name was Craig, was even nice enough to take my tray for me. I thanked him profusely, because he really didn't need to do that; I hadn't even asked! I left Cosmic Rays with a smile, and headed back into Tomorrowland.

Now I had gotten my two merchandise cast-members under my belt, but this next story is just ridiculous. We stopped by a pin station (because Vero is now obsessed with pins), and as we were browsing the selection, there was a mother and child looking at a cast-member's selection of pins, debating on which to trade for. After a while, she tells the cast-member, Eian, that she'll be back, and her and her kid wandered away. In lieu of their departure, Eian muttered “No you won't. You never do.”

Wait. What?

I tried so hard not to laugh in disbelief. I still can't believe that it happened, but oh! did it. When I told Vero, the only thing she said was 'What if we weren't cast-members and we heard that? How would you feel?' And it's true. A part of me was sad about that, but also glad the mother didn't hear it. I can understand a cast-members disenfranchisement, but don't bring it onstage. That's just unprofessional.

We must have passed through Fantasyland a million times. That's where we pin-crept onto a custodial cast-member, Catherine (I believe!), who was earning her ears. She was pretty quiet, but enough joking around about pins, and she started to warm up to us. Cast-members in custodial are always some of the nicest people I've met. They're always really approachable and friendly, going out of their way to come up to guests that look a little lost and help them on their way. I had a cast-member in custodial offer to take a picture for my friend and I a few nights before. There was one drawing water Mickeys on the ground inside of Toontown-- now that was just plain cool! They're always an entertaining group.

Now, the last cast-member I'll mention is Stephanie, a woman working attractions at Splash Mountain. By this time, we had met up with two other friends, and were preparing to ride when my friend Kyle (half jokingly, half serious) asked the cast-member what the probability was that he was going to get wet on the ride. While I laughed behind my hand (it's SPLASH Mountain!), the cast-member was really rough and rather rude about her response. She told him that 'she had a line,' implying that we were holding it up by asking a question. The kicker is that that is a very legitimate question-- while we may have asked in jest, real guests ask in seriousness. She could have sent the guests around us, answered more courteously, done something better than passively imply that we were getting in her way. It didn't bother us, but had we been guests... how stupid would she have made us feel?

For every bad we experienced in Disney, we saw and heard good. There are cast-members out there that, in spite of their own feelings, continue to go above and beyond when they're working. They may be tied down herding guests into a ride, or in the busiest restaurant on site, but they continue to treat each guest as individuals-- to the best of their abilities. So those few that leave a bitter taste in your mouth, you have those who make you laugh, take time out of their day to talk and and get to know you. I had a lot of little moments like that yesterday. We're human, certainly, but we have to be superhuman when in the presence of guests. It's imperative that their experience – in spite of ours – is the best they get. It's Disney World... we need to make the magic happen!

Oasis Canteen and other musings.

Ahh, Dip Site-- a hell hole to end all hell holes-- had been closed for refurb for a while, and just opened back up about a week ago but under the name of Oasis Canteen. Funnel cakes are back, baby!

I still hate it there.

Unfortunately (or fortunately?), Cindy, one of the coordinators, put my name down as a reliable person to work there first. I'm touched that she thinks highly of me (Cindy is so hard to read, so her suggesting me to the managers is an honor), but Oasis is still a sinkhole. Good thing about it is that we're not making the funnel cakes, someone from culinary is. We just man the register, pour the soda, etc., etc.. They did away with the bottles we used to have, so now it's all fountain-- beer included. Ughhh, I hate draft beer. It wouldn't be such a problem if the run-off (because you have to let it run so it's not all foam) didn't go into a jug that's literally the size of a plastic spray bottle, so every 2-3 pours, you have to dump the run-off into the sink or it'll overflow and make a huge, sticky mess... which happened while I was in there. Not cool. Whose brilliant idea was it to use that instead of something a little more effective? Disney makes dollars, not sense.

On the topic of sense, they also put the drain at the front of the cart. Bad show, anyone? Now when we have to reload ice or drain the cart, Stocker 5 (ice person) has to maneuver themselves around the guests. Not to mention the streaks of water that trail from the cart. Sooo ugly... and stinky, occasionally. I'm praying that one day the managers' ideas make sense.

I've been stuck at Coffee Cart most of the past two weeks. Two-three weeks. That is my home. I was once known as Pretzel Kitchen girl and now I'm Coffee Cart girl. Foreverrr and alwaaaays!


00:00 means midnight, by the way. Goodbye, social life!

Definite difference between a manager and a leader.

Leaders don't call you at 9:24 in the morning when you're on your way to work to tell you you're late to a shift you're positive doesn't start until 10:30 A.M. Managers do, and they also switch your schedule first thing in the morning when you just checked it at 12 midnight earlier that day to make sure your shift said '10:30 - 17:00 - BACKLANDS.'

Thank you, Managers. Without you, there would be no stress in the world.

Thank you, ODF gods.

Praise be to the ODF gods, who upon knowing it was time to close Coffee Cart at 11 P.M. last night, broke the soda machines at 11:20, successfully stopping the mob of post-Fantasmic! guests, all wanting large Cokes and six cups of ice water per family.

Got out of work at 12:45 A.M. Got home at 1:23 A.M. Today: lather, rinse, repeat.

Cross-post.

We, the glamorous.

Propane.

The rest of Spring Break I was stuck at propane, the most God awful invention in the history of man. They're these gas ovens out at certain parts of the parks that sell hot dogs and soda. That's all. And let me tell you, when it gets hot in Florida, it gets hot. The propane wagon is made out of reflective metal, and when they station you out on Streets of America, where there is no shade and the sun is blazing down on top of you, it's like you're boiling along with the hot dogs in their little tin hot tubs. It's not dry heat, either, which I can deal with-- no, it's humid heat, and it's against policy to lean on anything. Even if you WERE to lean on something, you'd burn your skin right off. The wagon has to be at least above 160 degrees. So if the picture isn't clear enough, let me clarify: hot sun, reflective wagon, no shade.

It was like a tanning salon without the comfort of being able to escape when it gets to hot.

So I was at propane for a good long while during Spring Break. I mostly worked on Streets of America, where New York is, but I was also moved to the propane out in the Icon area-- which is nice because we DO have shade there as well as the High School Musical show to help us keep time, ha ha. Closing is ridiculously tedious though.

Strangely enough, after the first week of Spring Break rush, things started to die down. I heard it was because British Airlines went on strike, so a lot of our guests didn't make it to Orlando. Bizarre much? I'll have to ask Sam about that one.

Sometimes it got so boring at propane that we had to make fun for ourselves. My friend Brittany and I ended up actually bagging 'air' and trying to sell it to the guests. Some were amused, others just wanted their dogs and beer. Oh well. Guess that's how the cookie crumbles!

Or the bun, if you look at it that way.

Backlog on Spring Break

It's hard to keep up with this blog. I have so many unedited, unposted, but saved entries on it.

Work is work, as I always say. I always come home beat, my feet aching and tired.


Spring Break
I just narrowly survived the harrowing first week of Spring Break at work. It was... tough. Real tough. I don't know about the people in the stands, but I was stuck Backstage in the pretzel kitchen... the hellacious pretzel kitchen. They relocated it to Pizza Planet, where we have three different rooms: the prep room, the oven room, and then the freezer way back in Narnia. You'd think that the managers would have taken into consideration that the man usually positioned in pretzel kitchen has a bum leg, but do they? No. They're managers. Anyway, other than being enormous rooms, more to clean, and totally inconvenient, it went... went...

Well, I'm alive. That's saying something. I had two 13 hour day shifts in a row, and just about broke down on the second day from exhaustion after they extended me. I wanted to punch my managers. It seems that Spring Break is the only time they do any work, but also the time where they screw up schedules the most. I mean, who changes a schedule that goes into effect the next day when it's one of the busiest times of the year? How is that convenient-- or smart, for that matter? It's not. At all. Ugh. So basically, I had to come in an hour earlier my third day and stay two hours later when I had worked for 13 hours straight the day before. Thanks, guys. You all suck.

After my day off, which I spent napping and moving very little (as everything from my hips down was sore, sore, sore!), I went back to work in the Sunset zone (we have three zones, Sunset- the front of the park, Backlands- the... essential 'back' of the park [I like to think of it as the masculine area], and Icon- around the hat). I'm usually on Sunset, occasionally Icon, never Backlands. So anyway, I worked at Peevy's the entire day, a boring stand right next to Echo Lake with standing water that smells like a gerbil cage and cheetos fused. Sooo gross. I started missing the pretzel kitchen, which is borderline absurd. I was so happy when Densy came to close me. Oh, Densy, you crazy man, you. The first thing he did when he got to my stand wasn't to be an efficient closer, no. He came up behind me and undid my apron strings. Needless to say, I got him back by hurling a scoopful of ice at him when we got backstage. Closing Peevy's was fun-- not working there.

I did get to talk to a little boy that morning, though, who was waiting in line for Jedi Training Academy (my favorite show on the park; little kids get to fight Darth Vader). He asked me how old you had to be to be on 'this ride' and I knelt down and was like 'Well, how old are ya, buddy?' and he told me four, so I was like 'Perfect! You're old enough to learn how to use a lightsaber and fight Darth Vader-- you know he's been causing ALL sorts of trouble around here in Hollywood. We need a hero!' and he told me how he has two lightsabers at home and fights with his dad and how one was broken... so I told him he was a Jedi already and fighting Vader would be a piece of cake! It's so much fun talking to the little kids... when I left, I got to say 'May the force be with you!'

Dorky moments are the sweetest to me.