How to Show People Your Appreciation

As I may have mentioned, I worked at Walt Disney World for the better part of a decade. I bring it up because (I love talking about Walt Disney World . . . AND) two of the best examples I’ve ever seen of showing an employee how much you appreciate them come from that period of my life. One happened to me, the other did not. One example is positive, the other very much the opposite.

I’ll start with the positive.

I had a few different jobs when I worked at WDW, For one summer, I was, essentially an assistant manager (I’ll spare you all the Disney-specific jargon) helping to run a crew of what could be called ushers as we managed the crowd at a daily parade, then directed the seating for, and the cleanup after, a large fireworks-laden show at the end of the day. On a good day, it was pleasant work. Other days it was like six hours of riot-control followed by an episode of Dirty Jobs.

One particularly trying night, the manager to whom I reported, with no warning or fanfare, handed me a large peanut butter milkshake from one of the park’s restaurants. Now, a peanut butter milkshake is not a menu item I would usually pick for myself. It was so thick it was like trying to suck a brick through a straw, and when it did melt enough to consume, I remember it being the only beverage I’ve ever drank that made me thirstier. That said, I felt appreciated, and went home thinking about the milkshake, not the trying day I’d had. I enjoyed the milk shake tremendously, and I still think fondly of it to this day. What did it cost the company? The wholesale price of a milkshake, and about two minutes of the manager’s time. Well worth it, I think.

The other example is one I heard about second hand, but from three separate people, all of whom I trust. They all worked as the opening crew on a major ride at the park. They were present when a high-ranking executive took a tour of the building shortly before the ride opened to the public. The executive got into a discussion with an Imagineer about a specific bend in the queue, and the lack of visibility in one corner. They were discussing an expensive re-configuring of the walkway or installing an expensive camera. The executive suggested his own solution.

“We’ll just hire some monkey to stand there.”

I don’t know if anyone ever told him that most of the people in the room with him were ride operators who didn’t appreciate his comment, or if he would have cared if he were told, but I can tell you that story was told to everyone who worked that attraction, and most of the people any of those cast members worked with at other attractions they transferred to for the last twenty-five years. We’ll never know how much weird hostility that executive has noticed without ever knowing why.