Ema Earns Her Ears: My Secret Walt Disney World Cast Member Diary (Earning Your Ears Book 2) (6 page)

On my last day shadowing Jenny, I was to sit for an exam-style, multiple-choice assessment as well as cleaning a whole room, as a checkout, on my own, which would also be assessed. I found the room cleaning part really easy. I kept a list of all the tasks I had to do to make sure I didn’t miss anything. I passed both parts of the assessment, which meant that the next day I could be completely on my own.

The next six days of training were called ‘ramp up’. This was a slow way to introduce a new cast member to Housekeeping. The first day I started with 8 rooms, then I got an additional 2 rooms added to my board on each subsequent day. On the sixth day I was scheduled to work only from 8:30am til 12:30pm, which let me get back to the apartment and chill.

Although I didn’t feel like I was a housekeeper, or belonged in the Housekeeping community, I had passed my tests with flying colors, and Ema had earned her ears. I could now remove the tell-tale red training sash under my nametag.

I knew I had read about people switching roles if they’d had allergic reactions to the chemicals, and I was certain I’d read some stories about other college program participants who had transferred roles after being successful at an Entertainment audition.

There is an International Service Centre at Vista Way. The people there had spoken to us during our orientation meetings, and they were to be our Floridian “parents” during the program. I thought I’d take my chances and pay them a visit. I’d planned out what I would say and thought I could try and win my case to be transferred to a different role. Even thinking about expressing how much I didn’t enjoy Housekeeping made me tear up, and telling myself “I’m not gonna cry” made it worse. I couldn’t fault the service center for trying their best for me; they fed me cookies, coke, and chocolate, as they could see I was very upset. However, what I wanted was out of their hands. I filled out a form which briefly explained my issue, complete with a tear-drop stain from the one I couldn’t hold back that had rolled down my cheek and onto the paper before I could stop it.

I waited 5 minutes. In that time, a fresh batch of cookies had come out the oven, and I was the chosen tester for the batch (warm cookies are my favorite, especially when the dough is gooey and the chocolate still melted). Then they told me I could go and see Mickey. This confused me. I was emotional, and they were telling me I was going to talk to the mouse himself about my problem. Of course, it wasn’t Mickey Mouse. This guy was even better; he was bubbly and full of life, and even when he was telling me the worst news, he still tried to keep me smiling. The general gist was that my visa restricted me from transferring and the stories I had read were probably all accounts from American participants (who therefore had no visa restrictions). Although this bad news meant no transfer, Mickey did try to help and contacted an Entertainment manager for me to “meet and greet” on my next day off. I was really disappointed that I couldn’t transfer, but I was excited at the prospect of talking to someone doing a job in a department where was dying to work.

The moral of the story is: Do not tick or accept a role you aren’t 100% sure you’ll enjoy!

Mickey also told me to speak to my managers, because I might be able to get an internal transfer within my role which wouldn’t jeopardize my visa. Since my visa application required me to list a specific role, I’d have to update it with any change in that role, and that would give the government an option to take away my visa, and my eligibility to remain in the U.S. for the college program. Despite Mickey’s advice, I didn’t want to chance it. And moreover, I didn’t want to make the situation worse by letting my managers know that I was unhappy with my role. I didn’t want to be seen as negative or ungrateful, and I didn’t want to risk people thinking that any mistakes I made were not of the accidental variety but rather the result of me not caring about the job.

At this point, I’d been transferred from Magnolia to the main section of Port Orleans, and then transferred again to my permanent post at French Quarter. There was a lot more activity here, and the building where I usually worked was right next to the pool, so I could hear the music that was played during kid’s activities.

As a CP, I didn’t have the privilege of cleaning the same rooms every day. I was given the leftovers, or told to cover for other housekeepers on their days off. Being in a different part of the resort meant different managers, as well. In general, they tried their best to make me feel at home. I even confided to one of the managers, Jill, about my problems with the role. I had a bit of a clash with one of the other managers, since she was determined to get me into trouble for the smallest of infractions. Jill, fortunately, got the ball rolling to have me trained as a runner, where I would have more guest interaction, and hopefully a happier experience.

I had yet another training class, and this meant I got a short board. My class was at 2pm, so I finished my rooms by 12:30 and then had some lunch. I made a little nest in the linen room with a pile of towels and sat on the floor. After I’d finished my Lunchable, chocolate bar, and bottle of water, I went to stand by the stairs near the rooms I’d been given that day. Jason, one of the managers, showed up at 1:40, and said he had sent a runner to come get me, but they were a no-show. So he rang another runner and waited with me until she came. Her name was Hasnet. Such a unique name, I thought to myself. She was American, as well. I had no idea that there were people my age here at Port Orleans speaking English as their first language.

This was a turning point!

The next week of work was easier. On May 27, I finally felt like I was working at Disney. I was engaging in more guest interaction. One oblivious guest even asked me:
“Can you tell me how to get to Disney World?”

As a cast member, you are trained to translate stupid questions like these. And what this guest actually meant by “Disney World” was “Magic Kingdom”. After confirming that Magic Kingdom was her destination, to which she giggled upon realizing how silly she must have sounded, I directed her to the bus stop and wished her a magical day. In addition to the guest interaction, I had learned that I could also enjoy Housekeeping. I was getting on average $20–30 in tips per day. On top of that, I was able to help myself to a variety of groceries and snacks that guests left behind in check-out rooms.

The first part of the morning was like a primary school assembly. The room was freezing, so I started to bring a top with me to wear over my costume during the presentation. Little did I know at the time that this was going to be a topic of conversation amongst the managers. But this is a story you will get in full later. Even after being in my role for a month, waiting for the sheet of paper which had my board printed on it was a nerve-wracking process. Luckily, this day I had the same rooms as the day before and that meant:

• 1 linen change
  
• 5 check outs
  
• 11 occupied rooms
  

When I got to my building, I took the stairs to the floor where I’d be working. I always took the stairs, even though all of the other housekeepers head straight for the elevator. On this day, I passed by an overweight couple who gave me a look somewhere between disgust and confusion. I couldn’t understand why: I was wearing a clean uniform, my face was as good as it was ever going to get, and I hadn’t spoke so they couldn’t tell that I wasn’t American (in case they didn’t like the British). Most of the housekeepers had looked at me in this exact same way when I walked into the canteen on my first day. Maybe they felt I made them look bad by taking the stairs when the elevator was right there (and which they took to their own floor).

I entered the linen room to get my cart and saw that I’d be sharing my floor with some very friendly Haitian women. Over half of the Port Orleans Housekeeping staff is Puerto Rican or Spanish-speaking, and the rest are mostly Haitians who speak Creole, a merged language of African and French. The Haitian were far more welcoming than the Spanish-speaking cast members. I had made friends with these two ladies. One took my board from me, and with my past experiences with the behavior of the housekeepers, I thought I might not be getting it back. She scribbled my numbers down on a piece of paper and handed me back my board. I was clueless. She tried to explain to me what she just did, and I politely smiled and nodded, but honestly, I had no idea what she had said. I didn’t want to seem ungrateful that she was trying to be nice, and I appreciated them attempting to make conversation with me.

When it came to 12:30pm, I was getting hungry, but knew I needed to finish this room. Just moments later, the two Haitian ladies peered through my room’s window and then knocked on the door. They had come to help me finish so I could come to lunch with them.

That’s why she wanted my room numbers!

It was the nicest thing anyone had done for me to date. They also came to help me finish by 3:30pm so I could turn in my board on time. I hadn’t worked for the company for 90 days, unlike my new friends, and so I couldn’t clock out early. I spent the last few minutes of my shift sitting in the canteen with a holographic Tinker Bell balloon left behind in a check-out room by a guest, watching
Bolt
on ABC, and munching on brownies and Diet Coke (which had been left behind in one of my other rooms).

Later, as I sat in the canteen until it was time to go outside in the sun and queue up for the bus, a cast member named Ronnie walks in. We chatted for a bit while he waited for two of his friends. We all went to clock out together. I told him I was to the bus stop, and Ronnie said that he lived in Chatham and would be glad to drive me back to Vista. I don’t really know how it happened, but as I went to get into his car, the top of my cheekbone bounced off the door frame. I quickly got into the car and pretended like nothing had happened. I chatted away the whole journey back and couldn’t believe it had taken me a month to meet these people. I was acting totally normal, even though I wasn’t able to blink and my eye socket felt like there was something that stopped my eye from closing the entire way when I tried to shut it. I could feel the swelling and knew that if I didn’t get some ice on it soon, I was going to have a massive egg on the left side of my face. I recognize the road we were on and knew we were getting close to Vista. I was trying to inconspicuously catch a glimpse of my eye in the mirror to see whether there were any visible signs of what I had done. There was nothing to see. Just as we turned in by Walgreens to enter Vista, the heavens opened. It was normal in Florida to have a torrential downpour in the afternoon with no forewarning. Ronnie drove me to my apartment block to minimize the time I’d have to walk in the rain.

The next day was the cherry on top of a brilliantly turned-around week. Although I was ridiculously tired because I hadn’t slept much due to the violent thunderstorms and the minor black eye from my face making friends with Ronnie’s car, this day was like nothing I could have anticipated. I actually had friends and was enjoying myself. I had a “good” board with 5 linen changes and 12 occupied rooms. Ronnie was my “houseperson”, and after doing a full round of the building he’d come help me with my rooms. He finished my 2 remaining linen changes with me, leaving me with only 4 occupied at 12:30pm.

Ronnie came back to get me when he was going for lunch. I had brought a bag of snacks with me, as it was easier to grab little things throughout the day just in case I got a bad board and wouldn’t have time to stop and eat. Ronnie asked me if I fancied going out for lunch. He mentioned a few of his favorite places nearby, and when I said I’d never been to a restaurant called Steak 'n Shake, that decided it, because apparently I had to try it. So Ronnie drove us to Steak 'n Shake, where I was overwhelmed by the menu. I had a steak burger and fries, with a chocolate chip cookie dough milkshake from the special menu. There were so many shakes to choose from, and I did just want to try them all. The best part about it was that my lunch was technically free, because I’d paid for it with the tips that I had made that morning.

After having an amazing lunch, I returned to reality. As Ronnie and I were talking, he referred to someone calling him “Dan”. I was confused, and I questioned that Dan was a weird nickname for Ronnie. But, as Ronnie explained, his real name was Dan, and he changed his nametag when people started calling him Ronnie. This was after he forgot his nametag one day. It is Disney policy that you must wear a nametag when you are working, which means that if you forget yours, Costuming will lend you a replacement. As a result, a lot of cast members become “Chris from Orlando” at some point in their Disney working lives. At other times, you might get a replacement nametag with a hometown that doesn’t match your accent. Shauna, who worked at the Main Street Ice Cream Parlor, forgot her nametag one day, and got the famous Chris. She was stopped by multiple guests to tell her that she had a funny accent for an American; one guest going into great detail about how she managed to move from England to Orlando. But in Dan’s case, he had been given a Ronnie nametag, not a Chris nametag, and the nickname caught on amongst his friends, leading him to request a permanent Ronnie.

No one prepares you for how bad homesickness feels. It was like a dull ache for the first month, and every time I thought about my family and home, I broke into tears. I convinced myself that it was because I didn’t enjoy my job, and that I was just being emotional, not homesick

The program certainly wasn’t what I had expected. I had high hopes for what I could achieve while at Disney, and I was getting nowhere. I never really thought about Housekeeping as a job; I was just excited to be living and working at Disney. I’d written a rather intense journal entry on June 17, and I’d never wish for anyone to see what I wrote because it isn’t like me at all.

June 17, of course, is Father’s Day, and as usual my alarm went off for work, but I was already awake because Abbie’s alarm had gone off 30 minutes before mine. I didn’t mind. I finally got out of bed and began to get ready. Abbie had rushed off to scoff down some breakfast, leaving me with the room to myself and 40 minutes before I needed to catch my bus. I had planned to ring home to wish my dad a happy father’s day. After two failed attempts at adding the international code, it was third time lucky and hearing my dads voice was great. However, the second I hung up the phone, the sick feeling set in, and the tears streamed down my face.