Stop being horrible to customer service people

As I have brought up before, my daughter Melanie is in the Disney College Program and is living these days in Orlando, Florida. She operates water slides at Blizzard Beach, a Disney water park.

This obviously entails dealing with members of the public, which depending on the day and the person can be the best and worst parts of the job, I imagine.

Recently she relayed a story in which a father basically yelled at her for doing her job. I won’t go into the details, but it has to do with a family raft ride, the number of people allowed on an individual raft, and the challenge of getting groups with different numbers of people onto the ride.

Melanie handled the whole thing very professionally and at the end of her shift was named “Slide Op of the Day” for dealing so well with rude people.

There are two ways to look at this situation. One is to say that, well, it’s good experience for her because that’s how people are and she’s going to have to learn anyway.

The other is to question why we’re OK just saying “that’s how people are” and leaving it at that. Why don’t we hold each other more accountable for being decent human beings? Why is it OK to be nasty to a college kid (or any person) who did not create the policy she is enforcing and could in fact lose her job for not doing so?

I know you get frustrated when you’re on the phone with the cable company. I know it’s exasperating when no one at the electric utility can resolve an obvious error on your bill. I know you just want to get in and out of the grocery store and start seething when the checkout person is slow or inept.

But this is where you need to be a grown-up. This is where you need to realize that the person to whom you’re speaking is trying to fix your issue and has no control whatsoever over the rules and regulations in effect.

If you yell and scream at these people, you have failed as a human being. I’m sorry, but you have.

I realize I’m coming at this with extreme bias, seeing as how this happened (and has happened multiple times to Mel in various jobs) to my little girl. Had I been there when that guy started popping off, I guarantee there would have been a scene.

I get that my perspective may be skewed. But it is so pointless, so immature, and so utterly stupid to yell at a person who’s trying their best to manage the situation and help you that I’m telling you right now to stop doing it.

That’s it. Just stop doing it.

Or work a shift as a customer service rep. If you haven’t done it before, I predict you last maybe two hours before you lose whatever faith you have in humanity.

Happy birthday to my little girl from six states away

Melanie and her parents, 21 years ago today.

I've told you that my daughter Melanie, our youngest girl and second-youngest child overall, is spending six months in Orlando, Florida, as a Disney College Program participant. She operates rides at Disney's Blizzard Beach water park, sweats profusely in the Florida sun, and takes remote classes through Cleveland State University.

She is a very busy young woman.

She is also, as of today, 21 years old. Which I'm sure means she will take a sip of alcohol for the very first time in her life.

I choose to believe this is true.

Do you remember where you were or what you did on your 21st birthday? I was covering the Ohio high school state volleyball tournament in Dayton with my News-Herald co-worker Matt Kantz. I went through a drive-through beverage store to buy a six-pack of beer, mostly because I could.

The beer wasn't all that great, as I recall, but the fact that I could legally purchase it was very cool.

There are many things about adulthood that make you wish you were a kid again. But on balance, being a grown-up beats being a child, in my experience.

So here's hoping little Mel has the best of all possible 21st birthdays. If she does decide to have a beer today, I hope she doesn't also have to work a shift at the water park. Otherwise, her buzzed self may send an unsuspecting child down a water slide at the wrong time to his/her doom.

Happy birthday anyway, kid.

It’s never quite the same once they leave home

Four of our kids are in their 20s, but they’re at very different stages of their lives.

Elissa is 27 and has a thriving career as a marketer and a long-term partner in Mark.

Chloe is 24, married, and living in her first house with her husband Michael while pursuing her PhD.

Jared is 23 and less than four months from earning his undergraduate degree before embarking on a career in sports communications.

Melanie is less than a week shy of 21 and in the middle of a 5 1/2-month stay in Orlando as part of the Disney College Program.

The former two live on their own, while the latter two live with us (or at least Mel does when she’s not baking in the Florida sunshine operating a water slide at Blizzard Beach).

What they have in common, though, is that all of them have spent at least some period of time living away from home. And my observation is that once they do that, once they spend even a semester or so living at school or whatever, everything changes for good.

Yes, they may come back and live with you again, but the dynamic is forever altered. They suddenly feel much more on their way out, no matter how long they remain under your roof.

And that’s a good thing. Your job, from the moment they came into the world, was to help them eventually become responsible, productive, independent adults. If they’re close to doing that, then kudos to you, Mom and Dad. Ya done good.

That does not, however, mean we as parents are always thrilled with the idea. It was maybe 7 minutes ago that all of them were toddling around the house in diapers, a sippy cup in one hand and a stuffed Barney toy in the other.

And now, they’re a lot closer to their permanent departure than they are to their arrival.

Again, that’s good, but it makes me a little sad. A mixed blessing if ever there was one.

Jack, fortunately, is only 15, so we’ve got time there. But it’s time I now know will go by way, way, way too fast.

And, if I’m doing what I’m supposed to do, I’m bringing his flight from the nest closer to reality by teaching him the things you need to know to live on your own and be a grown-up.

Maybe just this one time I’ll slack off a little.

The fine (and possibly lost) art of hospitality

I mentioned yesterday how we recently drove to Orlando to drop off my daughter for a 5½-month stint as a Disney College Program participant (I’m typing this post about two weeks before you read it while still enjoying the Florida sunshine).

I’m a fairly veteran traveler and can generally adapt to just about anything, whether it’s an uncomfortable bed, less-than-ideal food, long car or bus rides, or whatever. I just roll with it.

Still, while the whole idea of travel is to have experiences outside of your everyday routine, it’s nice to enjoy some of the comforts of home.

We experienced all of that and more in Orlando, thanks to Terry’s cousin Cindy. Cindy and her husband Steve have always been such kind and gracious hosts when we’ve traveled to Central Florida. And while I feel Cindy goes above and beyond for her guests, it’s the kind of thing any of us can do, really.

Cindy, for example, made sure I had half-and-half for my coffee and plain oats for my breakfast. I would have happily made do with any food she set out, but that was an extra-mile act of kindness that was greatly appreciated.

“Offer hospitality to one another without grumbling” is the instruction we read in the biblical book of Peter. I don’t know if Cindy ever grumbles about it (I highly doubt she does), but she sure checks off the “offer hospitality” part.

Pre-Covid, Cindy used to come to our house and stay for a few days every spring. I hope she returns sometime soon.

I will personally go to the store and get whatever she needs to temporarily recreate her life in beautiful Apopka, Florida.

Except the weather. As hospitable as I would love to be, I can’t do anything about that.

I am perhaps not the long-distance driver I once was

Over the years, Terry and I have often talked about doing a two-week family road trip out west with the kids. The kind of thing where you cover, like, 3,000 miles over the course of 14 days and hit some of the biggest landmarks on the other side of the Mississippi.

We still talk about doing it with whomever in our family can come, but now I’m not so sure.

We recently drove from Wickliffe to Orlando, a distance of about 1,000 miles. And that was more than enough driving for me, thank you very much.

I discovered my tolerance for long-distance driving has diminished somewhat. This could just be reflective of the fact that I hadn’t done a truly long car trip in a while.

Or it may be that I’m getting old.

Either way, by the end of the second day (we did it over two days), I would much rather have walked those thousand miles than spend one more hour in the driver’s seat. We had to bring two cars, as we were taking Melanie for her 5½-month Disney College Program experience and she’ll need her own transportation while there.

Which meant that while Terry drove her own car, I piloted Mel’s tiny Toyota Prius. It was comfortable enough, though I admit the disco ball on the dashboard and “One Direction fans only” sticker on the side of the car drew a few stares from fellow motorists.

The thing is, I didn’t even have to drive the return trip home like Terry and Jack did. I flew back so that I could get to work without burning more vacation days than necessary.

Still, the thought of driving 2,500+ miles to points far west is somewhat less appealing than it once was.

I have a solution, though: We will rent a private jet. As the family drives to each one of our touristy stops, I will fly ahead in comfort.

You know, to make sure everything is ready once they get there.

Flying used to be such a part of my life (and maybe yours)

We're driving my daughter down to Florida so she can participate in the Disney College Program starting next week. I'll then fly back alone in order to minimize the time I miss at my new job. It will be the first time I've been on an airplane since November 2019.

This 20-month hiatus marks the longest I've gone without flying in probably 25 years. There was a time when the airport felt like my second home.

I spent the summer of 2005, for example, crisscrossing the continent, jetting from place to place to do work on behalf of various clients as a public relations agency professional. There was one nine-day stretch when I flew to Minneapolis to work alongside the Northwest Airlines PR team for two days, then flew to London to meet with various journalists over a five-day period, then flew directly back to Minneapolis once again to work with Northwest.

Terry was pregnant with Jack at the time and was having to take care of four young children by herself while I was gone. She was less than happy with my travel schedule.

It will be strange going through the airport security process again and, you know, actually streaking into the sky. I never used to pay much attention to takeoffs and landings, but I'm going to soak up every minute of my 2 1/2-hour jaunt from Orlando to Cleveland.

There is some business travel in store for me at Goodyear, but nothing on the scale of what I used to do 15-20 years ago.

And this, I assure you, is a very good thing.

In a month, my daughter will be off to experience the Disney College Program

Melanie has grown a bit since this picture was taken, but this is how she'll always look in my mind.

Before the pandemic, my daughter Melanie applied for and was accepted into the Disney College Program (DCP), which I suppose you could describe as a massive college internship program, Mickey Mouse style.

She was supposed to have spent six months living and working at Disney World in Orlando, Florida, finishing up this past January.

Then of course everything changed, the virus hit, DCP was postponed, and she had to stay home.

Now, with the world shaking off its rust and resuming something resembling its normal course, Disney has not only restarted the program, but also graciously given preference to 2020 applicants who, like Melanie, were impacted by The Great Shutdown.

So starting August 2nd, Mel will join scores of other college kids from around the country to experience a life of servitude to The Mouse.

Interestingly, they don't tell you what your exact job is going to be until a week or so before the program begins. Melanie could end up in foodservice, custodial, retail, lifeguarding, or whatever the Disney powers-that-be decide she should do.

There are also courses to take while she's there, including the very ponderous "Traditions," a 4- to 5-hour orientation session conducted through Disney University. This is where you are indoctrinated into Disney values, "The Disney Look," and also, I'm guessing, a long list of rules that, should you break any of them, will have you on a bus back to Cleveland within the hour.

I kid, of course, when I compare being a Disney Cast Member with indentured servitude, but this is only because I want to be able to enter Disney parks in the future without being pulled aside for reeducation and interrogation.

It is, in all seriousness, a wonderful opportunity for my daughter, who will turn 21 while she's in Florida and be away from home for the longest period of her life. Terry and/or I will undoubtedly fly down to see her a few times over these next 5-6 months, but for the most part, she'll be navigating it on her own.

And she will do wonderfully.

Thanks, Mickey!