Would You Like Magic with That?: Working at Walt Disney World Guest Relations by Annie Salisbury Page A
Authors: Annie Salisbury
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take forty-five minutes or an hour. Cast members would literally forget to go to the tip board, or they’d get pulled into a guest situation they couldn’t get out of. So that half hour at the tip board suddenly turned into an hour, and once again, you’d melt.
Lunch for Guest Relations was a half hour. Some people would walk to the Mouse, but I never did. It took too much time and I wanted to sit and relax, not walk the entire length of the park.
After lunch, I’d return to the counter, and this is when I’d really start to feel the day drag on. Eight hours can be long if you’re standing in one spot the whole time, and even longer when it feels like every single guest who walks through the door is there to yell at you.
Along with the counter, there was also the button cart. The button car is exactly what you think it is. It is a cart full of the celebration buttons. Standing there is almost as awful as standing at the tip board, but a little bit better because you’re in the shade and usually you have someone to talk to.
But once again don’t take my word for it. Imagine this: a little girl comes up and tells you that it’s her birthday. So you grab a birthday button, lean down, and ask, “What’s your name, Princess?” and she tells you. You start to write her name. And then an entire tour group of non-English speaking guests rush the button cart, all yelling and grabbing and pushing each other, and suddenly you and the little girl get lost in them. These non-English speaking guests start pushing buttons at you, pointing at your sharpie pen and the button, the universal sign for “WRITE MY NAME”. But they don’t speak English so you can’t explain to them that you’re trying to help the little birthday girl, who is now just completely lost in this melee. You step aside for a second, go back to the little girl, and then a snotty couple approaches you and politely demands two “Just Engaged” buttons. Those buttons are hidden, so not everyone can just grab them (because those buttons are pink, and little girls like pink, and if they were left out for the taking all the little girls in the park would be wearing Just Engaged buttons).
Anyway. You tell the couple that you’re helping someone else at the moment, and then they spit back that they’re already late for their reservation at Cinderella’s Royal Table (because all Just Engaged couples actually eat there; it’s a fact), so they need their buttons now or the princesses won’t give them the time of day. This is five minutes of your time out at the button cart. It was always that chaotic. One cast member once told me that I was the button “guardian” not the button “keeper”, so it shouldn’t bother me that guests would literally grab handfuls of the buttons before shoving them into their backpacks.
Time would move slowly some days, and other days it would speed right by. About forty-five minutes before it was time for me to clock out, I’d get “bumped”. That meant I could grab my cash till, walk to the Bank Out Room, and sort my money. I put it in a big bag, and then I put it in another big bag, and then I locked it up tight.
I’d gather my things, leave with the other cast members clocking out at the same time that I was, and the group of us would walk underneath Magic Kingdom back to the RCC. We’d deposit our money there. We’d clock out. And then we’d get on the bus to go home for the day.
13
Have you heard about that secret, underground tunnel at Magic Kingdom? It’s like a real working city down there! Cast Members eat down there, they live down there, everything is controlled down there, and it’s like a fascinating functioning basement for the Most Magical Place on Earth.
Except, none of that is really true.
The tunnel — or, Utilidor — is not an underground tunnel. The Utilidor is the first floor of Magic Kingdom. It could not be the basement of Magic Kingdom, because this is Florida we’re talking about.
Lunch for Guest Relations was a half hour. Some people would walk to the Mouse, but I never did. It took too much time and I wanted to sit and relax, not walk the entire length of the park.
After lunch, I’d return to the counter, and this is when I’d really start to feel the day drag on. Eight hours can be long if you’re standing in one spot the whole time, and even longer when it feels like every single guest who walks through the door is there to yell at you.
Along with the counter, there was also the button cart. The button car is exactly what you think it is. It is a cart full of the celebration buttons. Standing there is almost as awful as standing at the tip board, but a little bit better because you’re in the shade and usually you have someone to talk to.
But once again don’t take my word for it. Imagine this: a little girl comes up and tells you that it’s her birthday. So you grab a birthday button, lean down, and ask, “What’s your name, Princess?” and she tells you. You start to write her name. And then an entire tour group of non-English speaking guests rush the button cart, all yelling and grabbing and pushing each other, and suddenly you and the little girl get lost in them. These non-English speaking guests start pushing buttons at you, pointing at your sharpie pen and the button, the universal sign for “WRITE MY NAME”. But they don’t speak English so you can’t explain to them that you’re trying to help the little birthday girl, who is now just completely lost in this melee. You step aside for a second, go back to the little girl, and then a snotty couple approaches you and politely demands two “Just Engaged” buttons. Those buttons are hidden, so not everyone can just grab them (because those buttons are pink, and little girls like pink, and if they were left out for the taking all the little girls in the park would be wearing Just Engaged buttons).
Anyway. You tell the couple that you’re helping someone else at the moment, and then they spit back that they’re already late for their reservation at Cinderella’s Royal Table (because all Just Engaged couples actually eat there; it’s a fact), so they need their buttons now or the princesses won’t give them the time of day. This is five minutes of your time out at the button cart. It was always that chaotic. One cast member once told me that I was the button “guardian” not the button “keeper”, so it shouldn’t bother me that guests would literally grab handfuls of the buttons before shoving them into their backpacks.
Time would move slowly some days, and other days it would speed right by. About forty-five minutes before it was time for me to clock out, I’d get “bumped”. That meant I could grab my cash till, walk to the Bank Out Room, and sort my money. I put it in a big bag, and then I put it in another big bag, and then I locked it up tight.
I’d gather my things, leave with the other cast members clocking out at the same time that I was, and the group of us would walk underneath Magic Kingdom back to the RCC. We’d deposit our money there. We’d clock out. And then we’d get on the bus to go home for the day.
13
Have you heard about that secret, underground tunnel at Magic Kingdom? It’s like a real working city down there! Cast Members eat down there, they live down there, everything is controlled down there, and it’s like a fascinating functioning basement for the Most Magical Place on Earth.
Except, none of that is really true.
The tunnel — or, Utilidor — is not an underground tunnel. The Utilidor is the first floor of Magic Kingdom. It could not be the basement of Magic Kingdom, because this is Florida we’re talking about.
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