Disney is all about the ‘show’. We ‘cast members’ are scrutinized for every last detail about having a ‘good show’. No tattoos (my feet haven’t seen the light of day in a month), no piercings (my ears aren’t speaking to me, they feel abandoned) and no hair coloring (my hair literally makes me yawn now), but all of these things I can understand. We are a wholesome, timeless family company, and guests don’t love Mohawks as much as one might think. Fine. We are always overly respectful, and treat every guest like family. Even the lingo! Guests, not customers. Cast members, not employees. There are signs everywhere that remind us that once we come out from our secret tunnels or back areas, we are ‘onstage’. All of these things combined with a million more are what makes Disney so popular. We go above and beyond to make sure our guests feel at home, something I can honestly respect as a business practice. Alas though, there are some things that they do that don’t seem in keeping with this goal.
For a company that is so meticulous with most things, there are some things I wish they thought through more. They make sure we look as awful as possible by making sure our shirts are tucked in, convinced that an untucked shirt could be enough to do a guest in. Honestly, Disney, no one looks better with their shirts tucked in, except European boys with good butts. Make them tuck theirs in, give them a neon sign, and then cut your losses and let everyone else have some breathing room. They make sure that we are practiced in doing the Disney scoop and the Disney point, subliminal signs that guests probably don’t notice outright, but overall add to the comfort of their stay, allegedly. But the main thing that I don’t understand, something that was a major oversight of Disney’s, was their lack of sprinkles.
There’s nothing better than ice cream, except maybe an ice cream cone with sprinkles. Since I was a kid, that’s been my order. Twist in a cone with rainbow sprinkles. I’m twenty years old now, and that’s still one of my favorite things about summer. When asked what my ideal date would be, it always ends with ice cream, and you’d better believe there would be sprinkles on that cone. It could be a night with my prince charming himself, but in order for it to be that perfect night that girls always dream about, there would need to be some jimmies. Hands down the best part of my job is when I hand an ice cream cone to a kid and their eyes light up. The happiest place on earth was made a little better with a little help from the dairy group.
But when asked if I have sprinkles, I have to tell them no. And because it’s Disney, and customer satisfaction is our number one goal, we have to make up a story. I have immense respect for Walt Disney. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t. And when I have to tell a guest that we don’t have sprinkles because Walt didn’t like them, I have to avert my eyes. I don’t believe this lie and I don’t want to have to tell guests that. I don’t want their image of Walt tarnished. Because believe me, if I heard that, that would effectively end our love affair. Disney, how many customers do you think you lose from people so outraged by your lack of sprinkles? And then you blame Walt? Low blow.
Here is my plea, Disney. Let me untuck my shirt, and GET SOME DAMN SPRINKLES!
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