Summer jobs have long been the subject of coming-of-age teen comedies, elementary back-to-school essays, and of course, youthful scorn. All the same, they are usually the only way to make decent money before resuming an education (unless you really took Risky Business to heart).
I, too, have spent my summers working to earn my keep. But my flirtations with wage work have been quite a unique experience compared to most. No, I didn’t intern for Obama, volunteer in South America, or compile a research project for the Library of Congress. I spend my summers laboring under the heavy yoke of the service sector, guided by the leadership of a mouse. Because I work at Disneyland.
Let me clarify—I work for the Disneyland Resort. My specific title is “Attractions Hostess” in Disney’s California Adventure. You can find me at Soarin’ Over California, a flight simulator that features some of my home state’s most beautiful locations, or working guest control at outdoor events like the new nighttime spectacular World of Color. I wear hideous uniforms that come up to my ribs, I pretend to like interacting with children, and I deal with really, really stupid people.
I’m sure that in their daily lives some of these people are very intelligent. Disneyland gets visitors from all walks of life: doctors, scientists, politicians, teachers, and everything in between. But for some reason, once these people check in to their hotels and put on their Hawaiian shirts, all common sense goes out the window.
In light of the many frustrating experiences I’ve had with less-than-informed guests, I’d like to provide the Georgetown community with a few insights into the wonderful world of theme park work.
1) Everyone paid the same price you did to get into the park. You are not special. More than of 100,000 people come to Disneyland and California Adventure each day, and logic dictates that they cannot all experience everything. If you did not get a Fast Pass for World of Color, there is alternate viewing. If the line for Toy Story Midway Mania is too long, there is nothing I can do. If you want to be escorted to the front of the line because of some clearly bullshit medical condition, take it up with Guest Relations. It is incredibly frustrating to see guests acting like the Resort is in operation to please them alone.
2) Rules are there for a reason. We are not keeping you from doing what it is you want to do just to make you miserable. Climbing on rocks is dangerous. Letting your child stand on a lightpole to see the parade is dangerous. Taking a child who does not meet the height requirement on a ride is dangerous. Keeping guests safe is the most important aspect of the job for Disney employees, and this is stressed this in every level of training.
3) The Walt Disney Company knows what it is doing. Thousands of college graduates across many different fields work for and with Disney to make things run perfectly, from the track on a roller coaster to the flow of guests into and out of an area. No aspect of theme park planning is left untouched. It is not advisable that you walk up to any employee (or “cast member,” as we like to be called) to complain about the way things are done. We have no control over that sort of thing, and unless you are a municipal planner or civil engineer, whatever method you have of correcting the problem you think exists will definitely not be better than the current system.
4) Please read. The return time for your Fast Pass is clearly indicated on the ticket. Your map is labeled with the name of every attraction in the park. Large signs with arrows indicate the location of bathrooms. I’m happy to help guests, but it is baffling to see, judging from the number of times I am asked the exact same question, just how many people fail to discover the most obvious facts. A co-worker once told me that a guest approached him while he was standing next to a restroom and asked, “Are these the nearest bathrooms?” Every summer a few people ask what time the 5:00 parade starts. We like to respond cheekily, “4:59.”
5) We are only human. Mistakes happen. I’m genuinely sorry that a ride broke down, or that the park is too crowded and no one is being let in, or that your child does not have a good view of the fireworks. There is only so much a single cast member can do to make an experience great; sometimes it is simply out of our hands and we’re left to do damage control. A little patience, understanding, and empathy rather than anger, threats, and complaints can go a long way.
All told, it’s not such a bad gig. I get paid well over minimum wage, I’ve made some great friends, and I get free entry to any Disney park in the world. The stories—both horrifying and hilarious—make it interesting, and cast members have something to talk about on the shuttle ride to the parking lot. But damn, sometimes even Cinderella can’t keep me from wanting to hurt somebody.
