Shift in Process, Part 3; or, the happy part

Make sure you have read the earlier parts!

3:30 – Ah, the Gazebo. Many memories have been made here (and I’m not getting paid to plug memories and general happiness). There was that one Saturday night, it was quieter than expected, an under 50k day. Nick and I had setup the area with 2 rolls of tape. (Yes: two whole rolls!) At this point, we were milling about on the Fantasyland Bridge making tape art to redirect traffic through the rose garden at a later point. It was mid-november, so we were finally able to break out the 1920s era jackets. In summary, we looked Disney. A group of young college girls walks up to Nick and I and asks if we can take a picture. So of course, being the Cast Members that we are, we say sure and wait for them to assemble themselves in a group. When they look ready, they flag us down. Of course, we are expecting to be handed a camera. Why it would take two of us to do so makes no sense, but neither do 105% of Guest requests. They actually wanted a picture with us. Not the usual can you take a picture of us, or, can we have a picture of you in your absurd Halloween purple pants outfit. These random Guests who we had barely interacted with wanted us to be a part of their vacation memory. Just because of the fact we had pointed out where they could get a front row seat for the parade in an hour. We made simple yet effective magic with no effort. All by just putting some masking tape on the ground. And we’ve only been on stage for a few minutes.

Shift in Process, Part 2; Assignments

Read Part 1.

3:45 – The meeting begins. I’m getting paid now to sit on a bench for 15 minutes and only have to pay attention to grab one small bit of information: my position for the day. Today’s coordinator and manager stand up front, saying nothing new or important, “don’t leave your position”, “make sure you know what you are doing”, “two way …. good ….. not like that disaster…”.

3:38 – They finally start running down the board. But first the old timers whine and bribe and claim they have to be escort today because they are tired. Except they were tired the day before and the day before that. The manager gives it to them for no reason. Backstage One, Two, Parade Escort One, Two, Firehouse VIP, Bridge VIP, Firehouse 1, 2, City Hall Disability 1,2, City Hall Crosswalk, 1, 2, one, two. Exposition Hall, Emporium One, Two, Pivot One, Two, Confectionery One, Two, Center Street East, Center Street West. Everyone listed so far breathes a sigh of relief, except Rick the poor trainer who has been stuck at City Hall Disability 1 for months with training groups. Next comes the most hellish section: Casey’s one, two, window, Ice Cream one, two, window. Those 6 brave souls groan, everyone else still sits patiently waiting to see how their day will be. Hub corner east, west, hub disability, hub crosswalk east, west, castle 1, 2, 3, (plus plugs and ropes), then castle crosswalk north 1, 2, castle crosswalk south 1, 2 and the ever awkward castle corner. Everyone named so far gets up and goes, grabbing the best light wands for the easiest jobs. But tonight is not just any night, it’s a 50k’er. We are staffed to the teeth, as close to new years as you can get, so the newbies are all remaining, waiting to hear what circle of hell they get assigned to.

3:35 – Here come the chutes. A captain for the west and east, plus as many spare bodies are available to help prod the cattle through. Exposition hall chutes are open tonight, this is where they stick the presentable bums. The bypass is coming out also, we have the joint bypass/expo chute captain who doesn’t actually work here, just scmoozes with the managers constantly. The unpresentable bums are stuffed in the dark bypass where they don’t have to speak, just have to stand there and point. I’ve still not been listed. That means they are saving me for the toughest spots, the ones that the regulars refuse to do but they know I am capable of. Hub Popcorn, bridge from hell east and west, Casey’s Hopeless redirect one and two, Exposition Hall two, Tomorrowland bridge, Fantasy bridge redirect, and the Gazebo. And of course, that is where I end up. Again. For the third night in a row. At least I’m good at it, but today they didn’t give me any backup. I talk to the manager and request more bodies, any bodies, and they say they will think about it. Which means no.

3:33 – I head down the stairs to the Parade Audience Control closet, grab two whole rolls of 3M Masking Tape, a blue light wand with dead batteries, and hang up my sanity.

End Act I.

Shift in Process, Part 1; or, the hot tin-can.

4:00 – I get out of my car, still putting on my belt. I grab my vest and poncho out of the trunk, and attempt to observe where I have parked my car after having circled for 10 minutes. I walk a random distance in a random direction and end up under the semi-circle. I rush just to wait, I hear the international Brazilians to the right speaking to each other in tired Portuguese. The VIP tin can pulls up, I wave any white card in the general direction of the blue man, and hop on in. The Tin Can sits for a bit, feeling when it should leave, suddenly taking off and lurching.

3:55 – After making a brief stop where the dress and wig wearers that reek of cigarettes hop on, I arrive at the fantastic entrance under the village house. I disembark the tin can that unfortunately I will have to cross paths with later. There is a hint of fries in the air, with a dash of Aramark. I walk briskly straight ahead, do a quick shuffle to the left to dodge a late gray shirt, and continue ahead. When I arrive at the junction, I grab the magic slip of papers that hold all the answers I don’t want, but everyone else does. I continue ahead, straight, down, and under 200 foot buildings and 10,000 wild animals emerging eventually at the sound of jungle drums and the smell of hot dog cheese. Cutting across the very empty concrete lot that does not believe in tin cans, I turn the corner, only to be halted by a parade of absurdity. Heads go flying off, hands let go of hands, and lobsters show the bright pink on their inside all while dancing until they cross the magic white line. As the large presents round the corner to get ready again, I continue straight ahead. I go out the loud green gate into the show after checking my tie. Playful over-sized squirrels pass by in the opposite direction, no attention is given to them. Cutting right while trying to stay invisible I stop briefly to straighten the other magic slips of paper that hold the real answers that everyone ignores. I continue around the corner and through the door where the giver and taker of all that matters waits, the god-box. I punch in the 6 magic digits, 537848, hoping I did everything to it’s satisfaction. Unfortunately I did not and it tells me I’m clueless. I pickup the line to the god-box gods and press their magic digits, 8880, 2, then 1. I inform them the god-box is wrong again, and they poke and prod it for a time just long enough to be worrisome but short enough to keep their hands clean.

3:46 – I try again, 537848, enter, pray, get assignment. The god-box gives me it’s blessing, I turnabout and exit the door, trying to stay invisible as I round the corner, pass the rodents, open the green door, and run up the stairs to the Mother Office, 2. I sit down on the cold hard bench, and take advantage of the one small break I will have before all the trials ahead,

End Prelude.

Read Part 2.

The Fall of Americanism

I’m constantly seeing problems everywhere, inefficiencies, stupidity, laziness, general mediocrity. People have complete disregard for policy that works, yet complete regard for policy that fails. Mediocrity is acceptable, as long as you aren’t wronged you accept inefficiency. Lack of improvement is the norm, and improvement is frowned upon. Politicians run on change, when they could run on the much superior motto of improvement. Genericism is accepted, specifics frowned upon. Let’s concentrate on reflecting on the problems instead of actually doing something about them. The standard of criticism is “Oh, that over there is lousy. Oh well. Maybe they should fix that.” instead of “That over there is lousy. It needs this done to this, we can do that via that, and the when on that is now.” If you actually choose the latter, they like to stick you in the former and ignore the latter. (If someone would like to offer improvements on the latter or the former, I’d be willing to consider it in the present.) The ones who choose to recommend improvements are frowned upon as dreamers instead of heralded as doers.

America used to be a country of doers, but has turned into a country of dreamers. Now note that these two are not mutually exclusive, just exclusive dreamers cannot achieve without mutually doing. Our early leaders did, our current leaders fancy. They dream, discuss their dreams, reflect upon their dreams, share their dreams, but do not act upon dreams. They are the definition of a fool, one meant to entertain the masses.

What has caused this fall of Americanism? The unwillingness to perturb or challenge, the willingness to concede to popular opinion, the assimilation of culture while integrating the less desirable parts of culture in the interest of political correctness or the apparition of equality. The arts have assimilated to the masses, stopped challenging the status quo, and the media shallowing to appeal to the visceral.

The editorial has died, considered too bias or politically incorrect. Without a social commentary, citizens cease to think, they are only fed. The food is consumed with little thought to the nutrition, consumed at face value, purely on how it tastes. Delicacies are considered for the upper class and the snobbish, not the masses. Fast food is politically correct, judged on marketed healthiness, not on the effort put into it or the quality of the flavor, just whatever is enough to cease the hunger, nothing more. The palate is bland, accepting the fried, rejecting the unfamiliar yet the decadent. Network television is the opiate of the masses, editorials and the cerebral the exhilarate of the few.

1976′s Network predicted it well. The first on-screen murder to increase ratings is not far away, we’ve taken to beating up “not-Is” on television to boost the esteem of the mes. Reality television is to blame, viewing the misfortunes of not-Is to entertain the mes. Wipeout is my favorite example, not just showing the embarrassment of the not-Is but adding a pejorative commentary on top. Where is the value? Reality television such as Big Brother, American Idol, and The Bachelor are already valueless, but Wipeout deserves its own category one below, antivalues. Not only does it fail to provide an editorial, but increases the validity of just watching misfortune and making light of it instead of fixing it. Hollywood used to challenge and show characters attempting to escape difficulties and improve the quality of life for themselves and others even if it first decreases the quality of theirs. Now we are devalued to Michael Bay, Heather Graham and Sacha Baron Cohen. Shrek, Twilight and Iron Man are the top grossing films while in 1967 All The President’s Men and Rocky are at the top of the list. What happened here? We ceased to do and started to stop. The people in this day and age do not wish to think or be challenged, they want potty humor, glitter and action with a dash of others’ misfortune.

What can we do to bring back that Americanism, that original spirit that got our country going? Challenge the status quo. If something can be improved, improve it or suggest improving it. If something is wrong, make it right. Don’t give up on fixing something because it is hard or might offend, fix it. Be willing to not conform, be willing to question, be willing to complain and use your voice. Be willing to write 800 word essays when you should be working on something else, be willing to protest, be willing to fight for not change, but improvement. Political correctness is not always correct, say what you think, and think what you say. If we are not willing to on occasion offend or challenge, our change will be boring.

Change is dull and nothing new. Improvement is much more exciting.

EDIT: The Google ad placement on this article is hilarious. Nothing like “Find your Bella!” and “Twilight Fan Site!” to go along with my point.

Steam Cleaned and Spotless

Every night, every inch of Main Street USA is steam washed. Not hosed down, not just pressure washed, but steam pressure washed. Is it costly? Yep. But I’d eat off of the street in the morning at park opening.

Last week, The Magic Kingdom had incredibly long operating hours, some days being open 7am – 3am and then opening again at 7am. Guests are generally allowed in view of Main Street 10 minutes before open and will linger on Main Street 1.5 hours after close on a normal night, maybe 20 minutes on a EMH 3am close. This means that the 3rd shift custodial show keeping team gets three and a half hours to get the park show ready, while on a normal schedule they have 8 or more hours. Yet when you walk right down the middle of Main Street USA the next morning it is always as spotless as ever. That’s some serious behind the scenes magic.

Entertaining Banality

Is “Entertaining Banality” possible?

What are reality shows? Or Twitter?

DISorientation

For years, I had wanted to see the utilidors, know the capacities, be able to calculate the wait time in my head, and know the locations of all the secret doors in The Magic Kingdom. I finally got to enter that world.

I’ve always wanted to work in The Magic Kingdom but have known that to do so would require submitting myself to “that” work world. That $7.25/hour world. The world that my world has always told me to avoid, a dead end. But this Fall, I had the chance to enter it on occasion, taste the forbidden fruit, and enjoy it. Albeit, I did have an advantage of it all being overtime, bumping it up to the downright posh $10.87 world. Still, I’d be willing to do it for $7.25.

In “that” world, you have yourself, your voice, and your hands. No desk to sit in front of, no overflowing outlook inbox or hour long meetings on how to introduce diversity to the office. The earth is your office, the weather your pace car, the season your mood, and your Sunday a Saturday or maybe a Friday or two. Your day is about point A to point B. No detours needed, your lunch handed to you, the clock running your bladder, and the silent boss the timepunch watching over you. Check in on the way in, put your brain on the shelf if you want, keep yourself occupied for 8 hours, punch out. Go home, forget the day, sleep, eat, drink, whatever you think (or don’t think).

Then exit that world.

At least I have that choice. And that is what lets me get through it. If I don’t like the work, I leave. If I’m tired, I work less. If I’m brimming with energy, next Thursday my pockets brim with money. Ah, there’s the catch. Even at a seemingly glorious overtime rate of $10.87, it’s less than squat per year. $22,000 dollars. Before your taxes. Just barely above the supposed 4 person household poverty line. If all you do is work, it’s fine. But you can only handle 60 hours a week for so long. When you’re down to 40, you have all this free time, time to spend but no money to spend in it. You sit on the couch and wither, watching football any time you are home. Heavily drinking cheap booze to pass the time. But then there goes your paycheck. You slide back in the hole, the dirt wall sliding down as you climb up it, scampering like an ant in the sand. Not a place to be.

But as far as climbing down into that hole as long as you have a ladder in place to come back out? Go for it. You will come out for the better.

NYE at Magic Kingdom

Never having been to the theme parks on New Years Eve before, I decided to go to Magic Kingdom yesterday with the only goal of seeing Fantasy in the Sky. I arrived at 9:30AM as I knew the park would be having phased closings throughout the day. Pulling up to the parking booth was a bit scary.

I finally was able to park, finding myself way out in Donald at 9:30 in the morning. All that was left in the lot was Sneezy, Bashful, and a bit of Grumpy. Roughly 7500 of the 10000 spots were filled. Getting out of the car, there were massive crowds waiting for the trams. They were actually loading multiple trams simultaneously in an attempt to keep them moving. Read more

Finally!

So I’m very happy for once I get to write a positive blog post about GT Dining.

Our new full service Chick-Fil-A opened this month, and they finally got customer service right. The workers take initiative, if you are standing around for more than a minute waiting on your number to be called, the cashiers will ask what you had and personally assemble it.
In addition, when I went to get a refill on my Diet Coke once, they noticed they were almost out of syrup and the brix was off. So instead of just handing me my drink, they went back and changed the syrup out instead of standing around. They apologized for the slowness. That is good, regular, customer service. What makes this excellent customer service is they silently gave me a larger drink back instead of the same size. This is a basically free gesture on their part but is noticed by the customer and is appreciated.

I don’t know what GT Dining did, but all the staff at the new chick-fil-a consists of their friendliest best staff from around campus.

PHP Country Code Array

I spent awhile searching for a PHP array of the 3 character country codes and name to use for a dropdown, but could not find one formatted well. So I did some VIM-fu with some PHP and here it is: Read more