Friday, May 5, 2000
by Kevin Yee
Everybody knows somebody who works
at a Disney theme park. At least, it seems that way to me.
Whenever I made known that I worked at Disneyland, instantly people would
ask if I knew Mark, or Jacob, or Liz. Invariably I'd point out that Disneyland
employs 12,000 people in the summer, and it's difficult to know them all.
Of course, if I did know Mark after all, it provided a great conversation
piece ("Mark was shy at school? No way!")
Well, my Disney career started off by knowing somebody. Visiting Disneyland
as a normal guest in early summer 1987, I suddenly ran into my school
acquaintance Cathi working at the Village Haus. She told me it was a great
job and that we should all get jobs, so my friends and I excitedly agreed
to apply that next week. Why not, we figured. Everybody wants to work
at Disneyland! The Happiest Place on Earth! And you get to visit Disneyland
for free as often as you wanted (I thought I died and went to Disney geek
heaven when I heard about that little perk).
Team Disney Anaheim building
Back then, the Casting Center (i.e., Hiring Office) was located near
the employee entrance — just outside the berm as you start to pass by
the dinosaurs on the Disneyland Railroad. Since then it's moved to the
Stadium Towers, and then back to the property when the yellow / green
Team Disney Anaheim (TDA) building opened. But I digress.
Before I finish digressing, I should tell you that there is a referral
program at Disneyland now (I don't think it was around in 1987). The current
Cast Member gets some amount ($25?) of Disney Dollars if you get hired.
That's a mighty powerful incentive to encourage your friends to apply.
The idea is that good people — the current Cast Members — tend to be friends
with others who would also make good Cast Members. Seems fine logic to
me. Oh yeah, and if they refer a manager to be hired? Then it's $500 bucks.
Now back to your scheduled story.
You get an application — a two-sided sheet of heavy bond paper that
asks all the usual questions and information on your background. Once
you turn it in, they mail you (or sometimes call) to set up an interview.
I get the impression that everyone is interviewed, though I've yet to
locate a registered sex offender and ask if he got an interview. Oh wait.
In Florida they've hired sex offenders. But that was a little while
ago, now. And I'm digressing again.
I spent twelve agonizing days checking my mailbox. Twelve days is just
long enough for discouragement to set in — can you imagine the Christmas
song if you counted down the days to the holiday while unsure if the holiday
would even arrive? Children would revolt! Finally I got a postcard, telling
me to call for an interview, which I did inside of ten minutes. Two days
later my interview day finally came around. Do they really have to waste
two weeks between receiving the application and my interview date? I thought
they needed people in record numbers! I was wasting valuable summer days — with all that time I could either have been making money already or
working up a wicked tan at the beach!
Back in the 1980's, they did group
interviews. Mine was with two boys roughly my age (seventeen).
The first was a long-haired freak who guffawed easily and for just long
enough that I wondered if he was slightly unhinged. I forget his name.
The second was a guy named John, who seemed built for football. I recall
noticing his thick fingers — could this guy ever play piano? — and his
habit of twirling around his class ring.
A note about current practices, if I could interrupt myself once again:
I think they do individual interviews now. Bigger budget in the Casting
Department? (it's called Casting because Disneyland puts on a "Show" for
its "guests," more about that next week) And a few years ago they were
doing secondary interviews with the manager of the location to which
you were going to be assigned. I think the secondary interview has been
abolished, probably because most managers weren't using their power of
veto and it was just a formality that wasted everybody's time. I'm sure
someone will set me straight if I get the current practice wrong.
My interview began with introductions and proceeded with several questions
gauging our friendliness, asked to each of us in turn. Not that the interviewer
said he was looking to see how friendly we were; that's the sort of thing
I decided later in retrospect. Halfway into things the man said to John
that he had a question for him after the rest of us were done, would he
mind remaining behind later? The inquisition continued — all the while
John has this smug look on his face, damn him for being so confident — and after a bit he asked if I would mind waiting around for a few questions
too. He then shook hands with the undead grinning guy and told him we
would all hear by mail the results of the interview, waited till he left,
then told us:
"There's no need to wait for the mail and waste time" he explained.
Thank God, I screamed in my head. Already wasted two weeks just getting
to the interview! Later I realized he had blatantly lied to the hippie.
He told us one thing while that guy was here, then the exact opposite
when he left, all in the same breath and without batting an eyelash. That
was a bit of a shock. The Happiest Place on Earth apparently leads to
the Happiest Circle of Hell for Liars (so sue me, I was young and idealistic).
"I'm prepared to offer you guys a
job right now. Do you have any idea what you'd like to do?"
The glamour job at Disneyland, any seventeen year old will tell you,
is to be a sweeper (by the way, that's not a glamorous job, it just has
that reputation among teens. At least it did with me. The real glamour
job is in an attraction or Guest Relations). So naturally I said I wanted
to be a sweeper. He checked and discovered that the custodial department
didn't need people, except for third shift.
I could do third shift, I thought. He had mentioned that third shift
crew members make more because they're working odd hours (i.e., over the
night time). But I was to be denied there, too; seems you have to be eighteen
to work third shift. He tried to convince me I wouldn't want it anyway;
he said I wouldn't like it because it's a long, lonely job. If it weren't
against the law I have my doubts that the interviewer would try to talk
me out of it, though.
Since John and I both had some background working in restaurants, he
suggested we work in Foods. I had thought to escape that life, so I thought
twice... but it was a quick deliberation. At that point, I would have
agreed that dangling upside down eight hours a day from the Matterhorn
sounded good. I was getting a job at Disneyland! There is no headier feeling.
So difficult to think when your mind is buzzing with the possibilities.
New Orleans Foods Logo © Disney
So we were assigned to the Cafe Orleans. It pains me to admit it now,
but I was mildly disappointed; I thought I knew Disneyland so well I was
sure to recognize where I was going. Cafe what? Where's that? When told
it was one of the outdoor restaurants in New Orleans Square, I thought
I knew which one he meant. When I eventually got there I realized even
that guess was wrong (I had envisioned the French Market when he said
"outdoor restaurant").
John and I ended up working together at the restaurant, where he quickly
became popular while I wasted no time in learning the hard way that ingratiating
over-eagerness does not, after all, endear you to everyone in sight. Who'd
have thunk it? He quit about a year into the job, while I remained basically
nine years. I always found it ironic that the interviewer was more certain
about John as a choice employee — remember, he had to be convinced about
me with additional interview questions — yet I outlasted him nine-fold.
John's a fine fellow — really, he is! I ran into him a few months ago
at a pool hall, and he remembered my companion Dawson — another coworker
from the Cafe — but not me. Hello? Didn't we interview together?! Once
he remembered me, he expressed some amazement (and a little pity I think)
that Dawson and I had stayed with the company for so long. And if you're
wondering: yes, Dawson is an invented pseudonym; he's still with the Company.
I'm getting a bit ahead of myself, I think. The story for today ends
with the interview and little pink sheets given to John and I. These will
function as our identification when we return for Orientation that Saturday.
It seems it's time for a little pixie dust to be sprinkled on us....
UPDATE: 5/7/00
I've gotten several emails correcting the original post. "Monorail Red,"
for instance, tells me the following:
— -first interviews are by telephone (basic screening for
availability and common sense)
— -secondary interviews (ASAP after telephone interviews) are still
in group format by a CM at the Casting Center
— -available positions are most often offered on the spot
— -Casting's absolute goal is to hire/reject all aplicants within
24-36 hours (much better than 4 months I spent getting hired in 1994)
— -hiring bonus is $50 to referring CM (both CMs must be on the
payroll 90 after referred's hire date)
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Are you a CM or a former CM? I would love to hear and share your stories! E-mail me! Stories and comments you submit become property of and may be published on this site; we normally don't publish last names of current CMs, but if you wish to remain anonymous altogether or do not want me to share your stories, please let me know when you e-mail me. — Shoshana NOTE: The views and opinions expressed in reader-contributed stories do not reflect those of Cast Place or MousePlanet. CM – Cast member; company lingo for “employee.” Empowerment Evolution – The 1995 attempt by newer park management to introduce modern accountability and market forces into the stodgy Disneyland methodology and power hierarchies. The name was meant to “empower” rank and file employees by removing layers of their management, though now there are more managers than ever. TPO – Theme Park Operations; the division of the Disneyland hierarchy that actually works in the theme park itself. TDA – Team Disney Anaheim; the name of the on-site administration building. Area manager – used to be responsible for an entire land, with all business divisions in the area reporting to him. Area supervisor – the immediate boss for location supervisors who divide up a department of intelligently grouped locations. The area supervisors in turn reported to the area manager. Nowadays all supervisors and area supervisors have been replaced by managers and assistant managers — the same idea, but smaller “business units" than a department; usually just one location in fact. RFT – “A” status; a full-time hourly employee. RPT – “B” status; an hourly employee five days a week but just not quite 40 hours usually. CR – “C” status; an hourly employee who works weekends year-round and five days a week during all school holiday periods (including summer and Christmas break). CT – a part-time hourly employee who works five days a week during all school holiday periods (including summer and Christmas break). No seniority, so shifts worked are usually quite short. Locate the employment center to fill out an application, and they will call you for an interview (dress nicely, just shy of an actual suit). Once there, follow these rules, in this order of importance: 1. Smile and be very friendly. They want outgoing people.
2. Do not let the group interview throw you off balance. They want outgoing people who can “perform” a little bit.
3. Do not worry about job (in)experience. They don't care. They want friendly people, not experienced and/or hardened people.
4. Do your best to convince them you already have a Disney attitude: you want to work with people, you're a team player, and you would consider this a dream job (however, don't overdo it on the crazy-Disney-fan side either). Strike a nice balance.
5. Did I mention the importance of a smile? 
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