Pandemic Stories
Just Another Day Working At Pandemic-Era Disney World
Face shields, layoffs and reservations for the pool.
From 2020 to 2021 I worked in the resorts division of Walt Disney World Orlando, Florida. I was among the roughly 60% of the hourly workforce deemed “essential” and, therefore, dodged layoffs that impacted over 30,000 people.
I’m Going To (Pandemic-Era) Disney World
“Hey Zach! Thank you for coming to work!”
This statement, coming from that day’s leader (Disney-speak for manager), was usually punctuated with a “beep” from the hand-held thermometer and a triumphant reading of everyone’s temperature.
98.5!
97.9!
98.8!
Let me be clear. My “leader” wasn’t excited that we were healthy.
They were excited that they didn’t have to send someone home for failing a temp check. If resorts were operating at a reduced capacity, Disney staffing was operating just above empty.
We needed all latex-gloved hands on deck.
The fact that our management thanked us for coming to work when, logically, we should have thanked them for retaining us when 28,000 were unemployed (technically eligible for re-hire due to the extreme circumstances), emphasized how dire the situation was.
As one exasperated leader said, “I just need bodies.” Bodies could carry luggage, wait socially distanced tables or blow a whistle in an empty pool.
And with both the international exchange program and college program internships sending participants home, we no longer had a deep bench of peppy, youthful and somewhat brainwashed labor.
So it fell to us, the full-time and part-time hourly workers, to pick up the slack.
Training was expedited and, while I normally had a “home” resort, suddenly I was a free agent, being loaned to other resort “regions” like I was a spare iPhone charger.
Traditionally stingy on overtime requests, leadership began green-lighting overtime and even double shifts.
At one point I’d work weeks of consecutive fourteen-hour shifts.
One day, seeing I was tired from the brutal schedule, a leader graciously gave me the choice of leaving when I clocked in at 8:15 a.m.
As long as I was back for the second part of the shift.
Your Lifeguard Used To Be A Chef
Being an employed body meant that even though you were fortunate enough to have a job, you didn’t necessarily get to choose your position.
When you got “the call” to return from furlough there was no negotiation.
Your choice was paycheck or unemployment.
No matter what stereotypes about unemployment say, you want the paycheck. It was reliable. It was security.
And it made you feel grateful, even if you had to break your body to get it.
As one former co-worker put it, the fluidity of role assignment is how we ended up with a ton of “forced new friends.”
My department, recreation, pulled from every corner of the company to ensure we had enough lifeguards to staff the pools.
I had co-workers that were former chefs, performers, photographers and security guards.
At one of my “deployments” (when you’re sent to another resort to help staffing), I met a former ride inspector reluctantly working as a lifeguard.
When I joked that it’s probably not good to reduce your inspection workforce they glared at me like I stumbled upon a terrifying truth.
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The Guests Are Back And Guest-ier Than Ever
The guests that we served, Disney’s first wave (of people, not that other thing), were, in a word, ravenous.
When Disney World announced it was beginning a phased re-opening on July 11th, 2020, you might think there would be some hesitation after the world spent the winter months watching the COVID-19 infection rate and death count climb with the trajectory of a meme stock.
Despite radically changing the park-going experience with temperature checks, plastic-lined ride queues and strictly enforced social distancing, Disney World couldn’t open fast enough.
The guests I spoke with told me that coming to Disney made it seem like the world was normal.
They said Disney felt like the only place that was safe and inviting.
And that was very much by design.
Although the Disney Parks were closed for much of spring 2020, in a rather brilliant strategic move, Disney continued to churn out its brand of family-friendly content, spoon-feeding it to rabid, cooped up fans, including its legion of Disney adults.
While the parks division lost money, Disney + gained nearly 75 million subscribers.
And for as many complaints as Disney Plus got for not having the same breadth of content as competing streamers, Disney’s entertainment division released 15 feature films on Disney Plus between 2020 and 2022.
Not only were guests rapidly and voraciously consuming content, they were creating it, with more than one family creating at-home versions of Disney rides.
The people I encountered in the summer and fall of 2020 weren’t first time guests.
These were Disney veterans.
And, believe me, they made sure to make you, and any manager within earshot, aware of that fact.
Spray, Wipe, Give Up
In retrospect, I had one of the first “COVID jobs” at Disney.
Having worked in media and entertainment I had former colleagues who were able to scrape by with jobs as COVID PAs.
They were responsible for disinfection and enforcing social distancing rules on set, as Tom Cruise pointed out in his now infamous on-set rant.
My job, though outside, was similar.
I had three duties:
- Disinfect chairs
- Enforce social distancing
- Smile (“with your eyes”)
Judging by the above description, I think it’s clear my actual job was not interesting.
Spray. Wipe.
Awkwardly beg exhausted family not to sit down until disinfectant dries.
Repeat.
During busy times I’d also manage pool deck capacity.
I stood outside of the gate and took reservations, restaurant style, for precious pool deck space.
At the height of COVID we even coopted the dining division’s restaurant reservation text system to tell guests when a spot opened up.
What I’m saying is that in 2020 to go to a Disney pool, you had to have a reservation.
Three years later I can honestly say enforcing social distancing and masking was a lost cause.
The guests were going to do what guests do — which is literally everything you ask them not to do.
After a well-publicized attack at Sesame Place, I resolved to fade into the background, another possibly-smiling face greeting guests trying to forget the apocalyptic outside world.
Reduced Role
As time went on, COVID rates dropped and companies discontinued mitigation measures, the scope of my role decreased.
With changing guidelines from the CDC, Disney decided that it would no longer require disinfection of every chair, surface and person.
The plastic barricades between rides came down. Characters began hugging children again. Thermometers were sheathed and carefully stowed until the next global health crisis.
Finally, gloriously, the masks and face shields came off.
The grand reveal of our faces was made more interesting by Disney’s relaxation of its infamous Disney look guidelines to now include bushier facial hair, piercings and tattoos.
At first I thought I would be fired, ironic, given that the diminishing of my role came as the company was calling cast members back in waves.
Instead, the role was “reduced.”
Now, my new duties included:
- Being available for questions
…And that’s it.
After nearly a year of foot-killing, soul-crushing labor, I finally got a chance to take a (now mask-free) breath.
Even better, for the three months before I left the company, I fulfilled every worker’s fantasy:
With no clear duty assigned to me, essentially, I was paid to “look busy.”
After months of darkness, that was truly magical.
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