I thought I had gotten passed the feeling that my work was the most overworked and under-appreciated area in Hollywood. I figured that hey, everyone else works just as hard-- I thought merchandise counted their stock like we did, that entertainment, bless their hearts, are out in the blazing sun dancing and singing, even attractions people have to deal with the craziness of some guests-- that, on some level, there had to be some sort of occupational equality with what we all did, because together we build the foundation of Hollywood Studios.
But I'm bitter again.
It's not that I don't love my job. For the few months that I've worked here, I've realized that its the people that construct the occupation for me, not the work itself. I come to work because I feel such affection towards the faces I know I'll see there. But of those few months I've been here, I also can't help but feel this justified frustration in their stead. These people, who work so hard to keep things running, get no acknowledgment. I felt it so strongly yesterday when we were closing.
First of all, who puts a Propane wagon out on Streets of America when Herbie's sells not only corn dogs, but hot dogs and chili dogs just around the corner? When they finally realized the error of their ignorance (because-- listen to this: they FORGOT Herbie's changed their menu about two months before; that's ODF for you), the propane wagon is then hauled out to Animation. Fine. But when it's about 95+ degrees outside PLUS humidity and that wagon is probably 160 degrees+ and there's no shade provided for the cooker who's standing over pans of boiling water and hot metal... how is that even safe? And yet it's our fault if we get hurt?
Do you know how hard it is to push a cart with half-worn wheels down a small hill when your fingers are slicked with oil? How hard it is to maneuver that same wagon-piece when there is a horde of guests milling around in front of you, trying to beat your speed as they cut you off? I didn't get frustrated until the other cast member I was with did, and it just fed my budding bitterness. As we were pushing the pieces backstage, there was someone from entertainment just walking around on the phone and for some reason, I felt this surge of anger towards them. I hoped they heard the ungodly sound of our cart against the uneven pavement. I know they did. I hope it frustrated them indoors. I hope that they thought it was our fault that the wheels were shot and stiff and that we had put those potholes there for the sole purpose of making their phone call noisy. I wanted him to give me a dirty look. I wanted him to blame me for the noise, because I would gladly claim it all.
It's so hard to sit on the back-dock cleaning, and not be acknowledged by your fellow cast members. We're human too. Don't give us dirty looks if ice litters the ground or if their are slick spots from the water in our carts. No smile, no nod, no 'good morning,' or 'good evening,' or 'good night.' Don't look at the ground when you walk by, we're not on the ground. We don't bite. I can tell you, the times I've been acknowledged by other areas of the workforce-- it makes me smile because this great park that we're helping put together feels that much more like a team.
When guest relations complains, it's because of us-- and yet if we weren't around, there would be a huge problem. People wouldn't complain if we were given the equipment to be more efficient, not hand-me-downs from Magic Kingdom. If it wasn't good enough for one park, don't throw it into our laps. Fix our carts, give us new equipment-- if you can refurbish roller coasters and make big, nonsensical floats for the Incredibles to rise up out of, you definitely have it in your budget for some new popcorn machines and motorized soda dollies.
I'm not making the complaints on behalf of myself, but on behalf of the people who had stuck to this job for years. I'm just here for a few months, but they've been here for so long... and they haven't seen many changes. I wish the higher-ups wouldn't forget that we exist, or that our fellow cast-members didn't abide by an unspoken hierarchy. It's so stupid. We still exist underneath these costumes, no matter how much they want us to be automated robots.
But I'm bitter again.
It's not that I don't love my job. For the few months that I've worked here, I've realized that its the people that construct the occupation for me, not the work itself. I come to work because I feel such affection towards the faces I know I'll see there. But of those few months I've been here, I also can't help but feel this justified frustration in their stead. These people, who work so hard to keep things running, get no acknowledgment. I felt it so strongly yesterday when we were closing.
First of all, who puts a Propane wagon out on Streets of America when Herbie's sells not only corn dogs, but hot dogs and chili dogs just around the corner? When they finally realized the error of their ignorance (because-- listen to this: they FORGOT Herbie's changed their menu about two months before; that's ODF for you), the propane wagon is then hauled out to Animation. Fine. But when it's about 95+ degrees outside PLUS humidity and that wagon is probably 160 degrees+ and there's no shade provided for the cooker who's standing over pans of boiling water and hot metal... how is that even safe? And yet it's our fault if we get hurt?
Do you know how hard it is to push a cart with half-worn wheels down a small hill when your fingers are slicked with oil? How hard it is to maneuver that same wagon-piece when there is a horde of guests milling around in front of you, trying to beat your speed as they cut you off? I didn't get frustrated until the other cast member I was with did, and it just fed my budding bitterness. As we were pushing the pieces backstage, there was someone from entertainment just walking around on the phone and for some reason, I felt this surge of anger towards them. I hoped they heard the ungodly sound of our cart against the uneven pavement. I know they did. I hope it frustrated them indoors. I hope that they thought it was our fault that the wheels were shot and stiff and that we had put those potholes there for the sole purpose of making their phone call noisy. I wanted him to give me a dirty look. I wanted him to blame me for the noise, because I would gladly claim it all.
It's so hard to sit on the back-dock cleaning, and not be acknowledged by your fellow cast members. We're human too. Don't give us dirty looks if ice litters the ground or if their are slick spots from the water in our carts. No smile, no nod, no 'good morning,' or 'good evening,' or 'good night.' Don't look at the ground when you walk by, we're not on the ground. We don't bite. I can tell you, the times I've been acknowledged by other areas of the workforce-- it makes me smile because this great park that we're helping put together feels that much more like a team.
When guest relations complains, it's because of us-- and yet if we weren't around, there would be a huge problem. People wouldn't complain if we were given the equipment to be more efficient, not hand-me-downs from Magic Kingdom. If it wasn't good enough for one park, don't throw it into our laps. Fix our carts, give us new equipment-- if you can refurbish roller coasters and make big, nonsensical floats for the Incredibles to rise up out of, you definitely have it in your budget for some new popcorn machines and motorized soda dollies.
I'm not making the complaints on behalf of myself, but on behalf of the people who had stuck to this job for years. I'm just here for a few months, but they've been here for so long... and they haven't seen many changes. I wish the higher-ups wouldn't forget that we exist, or that our fellow cast-members didn't abide by an unspoken hierarchy. It's so stupid. We still exist underneath these costumes, no matter how much they want us to be automated robots.
