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.

Remember the Pretzel Kitchen?

I sort of love it now. Really. Last week I worked in there for about three days with Luis, who is the most awesome full-timer at my job. Seriously! He's like my uncle; I adore him. So anyway, I was in there for three days straight, which was somewhat bizarre since I got practically zero guest interaction because of it. The first day I was in there, I had to work Fantasmic... and close. All by myself. Can you say terrifying? Luckily, Luis is just an absolute sweetheart and helped me clean and prep almost everything before he left, which was about two hours before I did. Then he told me to ask a manager about sending in someone to help me so that I wouldn't be by myself; after all, it was my first time closing. So Katherine, a friend of mine, helped me clean up... it wasn't bad at all. Everything was spotless by the time we had to leave.

The next day, I closed by myself. Thank goodness it wasn't Fantasmic, though, and I passed inspection, so that's good. Again, Luis helped out as much as he could before he left.

Day the third, I met Danielle, who is pretty much all flavors of awesome. It was an incredibly slow day, but to be a prelude to Spring Break. We were able to close about half an hour before we clocked out, and spent gigantic gaps of time between orders talking and goofing around in the kitchen. It was nice to be able to gab and talk to another girl at work, especially another CP. After Luis left us to close, we spent the next half an our skulking around the back dock, trying to find something to do. At least, I was-- Danielle decided to take her camera for pictures around the area for Fanatic Cards. Safe-D pictures, that is... which we weren't being in the least. I got into an ice fight with two coworkers while helping someone unload and recount their combo cart, and played hop-scotch on a tram as well as trying to jump on a trolley. It was one of those golden days before my break.

Long day in ODF.

While I may hate my job and complain about it, I can't say I hate the people I work with. I can't hate people. Ever. There is such a great, under-appreciated group of people working in Outdoor Foods. Under-appreciated by their peers and by themselves, I think.

I saw my mom and brother when I was working a combo cart in front of Star Tours-- they came last Sunday, which didn't work out as well as I'd hoped. That was my first time dealing with a 'Lost Parent.' This little girl approached my cart with a card with her mother's number on it and asked to called. It was bizarre how prepared she seemed despite being lost. After I had dealt with her, a woman stepped up to order and she was surprisingly unhurried, but said 'You did good.' It was nice to be acknowledged by a guest when normally I'd be rebuffed because I'd 'been slow.'

The rest of the day was rough, and though I asked for early release to spend time with my family, I didn't get it. I know that Carlos, my zone coordinator, tried to get me an ER, but no one was biting. He tried, and that's all that mattered. I was grateful and in the end, he ended up tying up the loose ends of my job so that I could at least get out of work... even if it wasn't early. There was real sympathy in his eyes, and I appreciate that.

I had a rough day following the debacle that was Sunday. While I went into work with a high head, the day quickly wore on me. The only thing I really remember from that day is that I spoke with one of the full-timers, Karem; she's from Puerto Rico. And we just talked about food... and somehow, that made me happier.

The next day was the same deal. It started out good. I had to open one of the kiosks and when getting my pretzels for my area, I got to talk to Luis, this older guy that usually works in the pretzel kitchen. He's intimidating, walks with a limp, seems to always be in a foul mood... but he's always sweet to me and seemed real concerned over my well-being. He's like an uncle, real gentle and calls me mami. For some reason, that made my day. My friend Carlos (a different one from the above mentioned-- this one's Portuguese) walked me out to my kiosk and helped me set up. That made me happy; I really like Carlos. The day was relatively unhurried. However, it soon got tiresome as the day progressed and my coordinator forgot that I needed a break. I saw Luis periodically throughout the day when he had to deliver pretzels, and we would chat for a bit, but after the fourth or so hour, my feet were beginning to give out on me. While it wasn't busy, I was getting tired. I finally got my break at 3:40 when I'd been in that kiosk since about 10:30 that morning.

Later, I had to close Icon Nut... which is fine, but I'm notoriously slow at counting bottles and cleaning. I thought I'd never get out of work at a decent hour. After doing my counts, I went to the kitchen to clean the pans for the stand and saw Luis again, and he walked me through where I would clean and whatnot. I like him a lot, I really, truly do. He's such a nice man. Anyway, when I was finally done with all of that, I practically ran back onstage to my kiosk so that I could clean...

...but when I got there, the light was on, and my coordinator, Cindy, was cleaning the area for me. It was done, all of it. I was so speechless, I could have cried. She turned and said: "Well, I saw you put in for an ER and didn't get it, so..."

Thinking about it still brings tears to my eyes. God was at it again. Little things, small kindnesses. He knows me too well.

Yesterday was tough again... just because it was long. I asked for an ER, planning on heading out early so I could go to Wal-Mart. I'm literally out of food. By 5:30, however, I realized I wasn't going to get it. I felt like my insides were wilting. I was so tired, so very tired that I couldn't even keep the corners of my mouth up in a smile. It's terrible, really. I'm an awful liar and I couldn't even feign happiness for our guests. I just wanted to go home. I had to close a combo cart, which included counting and restocking, which I abhor because I'm so slow at it. The guy that helped me close (I don't know his real name because he wears a nametag that says 'Craig -- Jamaica' and he's clearly Hispanic), he'd helped me close before, and I was under the impression he hated me. He looks so serious, so mean. As we were getting ready to go, I asked about a Petco coupon and headband someone left behind, told him I'd feel bad if we threw it away. He laughed and asked if I had a pet.

I said yeah, a dog, to which he responded that I could use the headband as a collar and just use the Petco discount card. I laughed and told him the sparkly, green headband wouldn't exactly fit around my 95 lbs. Doberman's neck. He was surprised I had a Doberman-- apparently that's his favorite kind of dog. He told me how his aunt had two, she had to put them down, then we headed out on our way backstage.

We met up with another stocker and the three of us moved our carts backstage. On our way there, 'Craig' asked if I knew how much stock goes in the cart, and I told him no, I hadn't memorized it yet and that I'd never get out of work on time because of it. He told me the numbers and then let me take my cart in first. And I made it past the corner without crashing! THAT was a feat! He humored me by telling me I deserved a fanatic card.

Well, anyway, I went into the office to return my money and sort through my cards, then I had to plug a bunch of undocumented spoils into the machine I'd been using. Ugh, time consuming. When I FINALLY got outside for reload, my cart was gone... and around the corner, 'Craig' and another guy were doing the counts for my soda and reloading for me. I ran over to help, not without being stunned to silence, of course, and tried to get some work in. After I'd parked the carts, we were walking back and Craig said 'See? And you said you wouldn't get out on time.'

It was something like 7:49 P.M. Let me tell you what a feat that is. When I close, I usually have to stay 45 extra minutes afterward because of how slow I am. I don't even know what to say....

The people in ODF are wonderful. I love the people I work with, even if they're not aware of my respect for them. They need more than free hotdogs to commemorate their hard work, but that seems to be all management thinks they deserve. And what of management? I could care less for them; they hardly pull their weight and often mess up schedules. But the full-timers... they're amazing and blessings to us CPs, though a lot of us have yet to realize it.