Thursday, May 12, 2000
by Kevin Yee
Your first paid day at Disneyland
is Orientation. What you didn't read last time about the hiring
process is the little backstory of how I ended up even applying for a
job.
I had visited Disneyland with my friend Gregor shortly after we turned
seventeen, which was then the minimum age to hire in. Long story short:
we met up with a classmate named Cathi, working at Village Haus. She told
us what a great job it was, and there we were, off to get hired. The point
is, Gregor also got hired, and we went to Orientation together that Saturday
in July.
At the interview each of us had been told where to park and where to
meet for the Orientation (at the Casting Center of course, just next to
Harbor House — now called Harbor Pointe) and we were there bright-eyed
and bushy-tailed. We park in A-lot, what appears on the guest ticket as
"Alice" but is never called that by Cast Members.
Cast Member entrance at Harbor House.
We got seated in a room that would hold 40 or so people, decorated with
framed small posters of Silly Symphonies and the like, and noticed Disney
workers milling about in their uniforms in the hallways. Gregor leaned
over to me: "Dude I just saw the biggest guy in the world." I looked over
and sure enough, a guy in the canoes outfit built like Schwarzeneggar,
only shorter. Really. Gulp. I don't recall the other teachers of this
class, but I sure remember him.
At some point we were called to order. Two or three of these guys ran
the Orientation in a tag-team manner. I later learned that their position
is called "University Leader," that they wear their normal work outfit — wherever that is — even while doing Orientations, and that every year
six or eight new ones get chosen for this honor. They're called University
Leaders because this place, where the Orientation was, had been named
the "Disney University" — a place to teach new hires the Disney way of
doing things.
We kicked things off with a most
impressive slideshow. There were three screens and three projectors,
each changing image in order, such that there were three images, one in
constant movement for our devouring eyes. Images of smiling Cast Members,
happy guests, immaculate uniforms and Disney magic in general flashed
by us for at least ten minutes. Meanwhile a host of happy Disney music
put us in the mood — "When you wish upon a star" was certainly one that
I remember. Disney brainwashing? You bet. But I couldn't be a more willing
victim.
After we were all properly salivating, they began little lecture blocks.
It was impressed upon us that so many people apply to work here, but so
few actually get the job. We were the best of the best. The cream of the
crop. We had a "Very High Standard" to maintain. Gulp. The idea of course
is to expect a lot and thus hopefully reap a lot. Seemed to work, for
the most part. Perhaps the 80's were less cynical.
Up next: the Four Keys to Disneyland's Success. The park succeeds and
will continue to do so if we stress the following in this order as workers:
safety, courtesy, show, and capacity (nowadays they call that last one
"efficiency" instead). The idea is that you never sacrifice safety for
courtesy's sake, or sacrifice show for the sake of efficiency, and so
on.
SHOW, naturally, is the real key
to what makes DL special. We were told that we put on a show
for our customers... So all the relevant terms apply. We don't wear "uniforms,"
we wear "costumes." When people can see you, you're "onstage" and the
non-visible areas are "backstage." The visitors to DL are "guests," not
"customers" — we should treat them like guests in our own home. If guests
can see us, we need to act our part with the right body language: smile
(and not just with your mouth), never cross your arms, never lean or sit,
never point with less than two fingers, never act preoccupied, annoyed,
or bored. We are paid to act happy, you see. ALL THE TIME. Gulp, indeed.
What have I gotten myself into?
After a while, these terminologies seep into your bloodstream and infuse
your cells; they become second nature. I still catch myself saying "guest"
even when talking about a non-Disney theme park. As for backstage, I can't
even think of another word that would apply, that's how completely I've
bought into it. Disney brainwashing? You bet. But it's a good idea in
this case, and like I said before, I couldn't be a more willing victim.
Part of the SHOW is the correct appearance.
To this end we each received a "Disney Look" book, visually detailing
guidelines on such things as earring size, fingernail length and color,
hair styles and length, tattoo's, jewelry allowable, length of skirts
and pants, beards and mustaches, and so on. The rules are actually pretty
specific. I plan on dedicating a column to the "Disney Look" at some future
point, so let's just move on shall we?
After a break, during which time Gregor and I eagerly one-upped each
other on our level of excitement, we got more handouts. Lots of them.
It had suddenly turned legal, it seems.
We got our forms on tax declarations, joining our respective unions
(you have no choice in the matter, you must join), joining the credit
union, doing direct deposit, doing stock purchase plan, signing up for
the pension plan. With that many people and with that many forms, there
wasn't time to read everything. They mostly just told us what to fill
in and sign and we dutifully did so. Gulp.
Present-day CM manuals — Artwork © Disney
Another booklet. The "Disney Way" booklet, provided a mixture of pixie-dust
happiness and down-to-earth work expectations. Nowadays the booklets all
have different names, as seen above. Someday I'll lay out these guidelines
in more detail, but an example would be what is said about holidays: we
get paid to work while others play (reading between the lines: don't ever
expect to have a holiday off). Disneyland's busiest days are holidays,
thus we should expect to work all of them.
Finally it was time for lunch.
Boxed lunch, naturally, and one of the few times DL has ever paid for
my lunch. Containing a chicken sandwich, apple, chocolate chip cookie,
and a canned soda, this was not an exciting lunch. But at least it was
free!
Then we were treated to a video, explaining what to do on our first
real day of work: get your ID card, sign out a costume, and report to
your location for training. The video explained things humorously by showing
how a bumbling idiot did everything the wrong way first. Nowadays all
these tasks are done for you by someone from your location that meets
up with you on your first day; they call it the Buddy System. Back then
you had to figure it all out for yourself. Turns out it wasn't so hard.
But it sure was a lot to remember.
When I asked a more recent CM how all that works nowadays at TDA, they
said:
First you sit in a theatre, and the trainers show you videos
to get you all jazzed up, then they introduce themselves, then they show
you this lame ass bit about TOTAL GUEST SATISFACTION (TGS) where someone
talks about it as if it's a special message he's sending you, then more
video, then they do role playing, they tell you the top eight ways to
get fired and all that fun stuff.
After that it was time for our Area
Tour. It had been rainy, so there was thought that it would
be canceled, but the weather cooperated and we felt happy. Gregor separated
from me here; he went on to be a miserable CM at Tomorrowland Terrace's
hamburger assembly line, grabbing white-hot patties off the belt with
bare hands. He lasted but a few months.
I was off to New Orleans Square with others going to the West Side.
Before leaving, we were given ribbons to wear with our nametags proclaiming
"We're 32 years old today." Yes, my Orientation was on July 17th — Disneyland's
Birthday. At Orientation you wear business attire, loosely defined, so
if you see a group of young people dressed as professionals and wearing
nametags on a weekend, you've just seen an Area Tour.
Area Tour Representatives are a separate
group from University Leaders, they told us. Leaders give you
the "pixie dust" version of working at Disneyland, while the Reps deal
with the nuts-and-bolts. As this was a much smaller group, we did lots
of informal question-and-answer stuff, such as: what can you wear while
driving to work (answer: whatever you want).
We also get hints of the magic at Disneyland we might not have known
(smellitzers at Main Street candy shop, for example). And we'd learn about
disabled issues, possibly meaning we'd stop by a ride and view the special
entrance.
We toured the backstage area of NOS and Adventureland, then the Rep
took each of us to our schedulers to set up a training schedule — something
I took for granted at the time, but later learned is far more haphazard
and arbitrary than you could imagine.
After we collected all our new-hires from the various Area Offices,
it was time to go! It had been a great Orientation, filled with great
expectations (gulp) and great promise. Had it been Disney brainwashing?
You bet. But.... well, you know the rest. I couldn't be a more willing
victim.
Next up: First Day on the Job
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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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