Here's to finally cleaning up your messes
I often find myself telling people about how Disney is the reason I came to Orlando but I don’t usually share how I left the company. Because it’s embarrassing to tell people you were fired from a job that you loved.
The story usually includes how when I was a kid I’d always look forward to watching Wide World of Disney on Sunday nights and would beg my parents to let us all eat in front of the television. I have clear memories of having to cry myself through chores that I’d put off all day and peering through the windows in winter to see my family happily huddled around the tv eating supper while I cried into my mittens because I had to go pile wood instead. Tinkerbell flying on the tv screen and tossing her pixie dust on Cinderella’s Castle before the movie started, all while I huddled in the snow wishing I’d done my work earlier in the day.
I worked as a Cultural Representative at Le Cellier Steakhouse in the Canadian pavilion in EPCOT for about 15 months as part of the International Program. I was invited to return as a seasonal worker and took out my American citizenship papers to make it official. I stayed at EPCOT for a few years after the original contract and won an array of service awards while I was there. My brother joined me and we’d tell obnoxiously Canadian stories about our childhood in Northern Ontario and do moose calls at their request.
It all came to a sudden end when it turned out that we were all ringing in desserts incorrectly under the Disney Dining Plan and since I was a trainer and a seasonal employee with no right to a union rep (even though I’d been paying dues) I was fired. Everyone else got to stay though - which was wonderful for my friends but a hard pill for me to swallow at the time. I was stamped with a “No Rehire” status too, further crushing any hopes that I could find my way back at the company.
In the years since I continued to think about what it would be like to still be working there. I’d have dreams about serving at the restaurant almost weekly, only to wake up and laugh them off and get about with my day. I finally had the opportunity last year though, to appeal the status, make my case, and remove that black mark from my employment record.
It wasn’t easy, and it took about two months to get through the process, but when I got the email saying that my No Rehire status had been revoked, I couldn’t help but cry a little bit into my laptop. And I haven’t had a bad server dream since.
