Disney U

Disney U Plot Summary

Introduction

Have you ever walked into a store, hotel, or restaurant and been struck by how genuinely happy the employees seem to be? Not that forced corporate smile, but a true sense of engagement and purpose that makes you wonder: how do they do that? Behind every truly exceptional customer experience stands an organization that has mastered the art of employee development and engagement. At the heart of one of the world's most beloved entertainment empires lies a revolutionary approach to employee training that has transformed ordinary workers into extraordinary memory-makers for over six decades. The institution responsible for this transformation isn't just a department—it's a university with its own philosophy, traditions, and proven methodology for creating passionate employees. Through this unique employee development system, cast members learn not just how to perform tasks, but how to create happiness, solve problems creatively, and become stewards of a magical experience. The principles behind this system can revolutionize how any organization approaches employee development, elevating ordinary training into transformative education that captures both hearts and minds. Whether you lead a small team or an entire company, these insights will show you how to develop employees who don't just understand your values—they embody them with pride and purpose every single day.

Chapter 1: The Four Circumstances: Setting the Stage for Success

Van France stepped into Walt Disney's office with a mixture of nervousness and determination. The year was 1955, and Disneyland's grand opening was just months away. As he settled into his chair, Van knew this wasn't just another meeting—it was the moment that would define his career and potentially shape the future of employee development. "We need you to mold a group of diverse Californians, with no business experience, into producers of the Disneyland Dream," Walt explained, leaning forward with intensity. "These people will create happiness." The challenge was monumental. How could Van transform ordinary job-seekers into extraordinary "cast members" who would consistently deliver Walt's vision of magical guest experiences? There was no template to follow—this had never been done before. But rather than feeling overwhelmed, Van felt energized. Having worked in training roles for manufacturing companies and the military, he recognized this as the opportunity of a lifetime. In the months that followed, Van established what would become the foundation of Disney University. He identified four essential circumstances—four core values—that would be necessary for any successful employee development program. These weren't just theoretical concepts but practical principles that would guide the creation of training programs for decades to come. The first circumstance was innovation. Van rejected the standard notion of a "training department" in favor of something more inspirational. "The function has little status in any organization," he explained. "Years before, when I had actually managed a 'training department,' I grew tired of hearing, 'Those who can, do; those who can't, teach.'" By naming it a "university," he elevated both the perception and the expectations of what employee development could achieve. The second vital circumstance was organizational support. Disney management, from Walt himself down through the ranks, didn't just approve of the training—they championed it. Dick Nunis, then director of operations at Disneyland, became one of Van's biggest cheerleaders, providing both resources and vocal support. Without this high-level commitment, the Disney University might have been just another corporate initiative that faded away. Education formed the third circumstance. Van knew that generic training wouldn't suffice—they needed to create a custom-tailored educational experience that would prepare employees for the unique environment of Disneyland. Just as Walt had established his own art school for animators in the 1930s because existing schools "didn't quite have enough for what we needed," Van built an educational program specifically designed to create artists of happiness. The fourth circumstance was perhaps the most distinctively Disney: entertainment. Van believed that learning should never be dull. Working with the Art Department of the Marketing division, he ensured that handbooks and training materials were "creative and interesting, rather than the opposite, which would mean 'dull and academic.'" As Walt himself often said, "Laughter is no enemy to learning." These four circumstances—innovation, support, education, and entertainment—created the perfect environment for the Disney University to flourish. They weren't just values on paper; they were living principles that infused every aspect of employee development. Together, they transformed ordinary training into something extraordinary—a system that has consistently produced the world's most engaged employees for generations.

Chapter 2: Capturing Hearts and Minds Beyond Mickey Mouse

It's 1982, and Dick Nunis, president of Disney's Outdoor Recreation Division, is exhausted. The grand opening of EPCOT Center—an $800 million expansion at Walt Disney World in Florida—is just days away. Despite his packed schedule overseeing both Walt Disney World and Disneyland, Dick has personally committed to conducting orientation sessions for every single EPCOT cast member. As the lights dim and a training video begins playing, Dick slumps into a chair at the back of the room, hoping to catch a five-minute catnap. When the video ends, he springs back to life, running to the front of the room to continue the orientation with renewed energy. This isn't a one-time special appearance—Dick is personally conducting these 90-minute sessions for all 2,000 EPCOT cast members, sometimes leading multiple sessions per day for weeks. Why would an executive at his level dedicate so much time to what many would consider a lower-priority task? The answer lies in a philosophy instilled by both Walt Disney and Van France decades earlier: "Management must be diligent or the show will deteriorate. Management must be diligent or the cast will deteriorate." Through his actions, Dick was perpetuating a corporate culture that prioritized employee development above all else. Twenty-seven years earlier, Dick and Van had maintained a similar pace preparing for Disneyland's opening. Now, as a senior executive, Dick was still demonstrating the same commitment to training. By personally conducting these orientations, he sent a powerful message to everyone in the organization: "The Walt Disney Company cares about its employees and this project." Many people look at the Disney University with envy. After all, who wouldn't want to work in a training environment filled with beloved cartoon characters, Academy Award-winning film clips, and Grammy Award-winning background music? When trainers at other companies see the Disney approach, they often say: "If I had the staff and budget of a Disney University, life would be easy" or "If I had that kind of training environment, with all those famous characters and cutesy things, I'd never have problems getting people to show up." But this perception misses a fundamental truth. While the Disney name certainly provides advantages, the real power of the Disney University comes from something deeper than Mickey Mouse and Donald Duck. As Thor Degelmann, who spent 32 years with Disney in human resources and the Disney University, explains: "The Disney University is the conscience of the organizational culture. Somebody always has to be the conscience. The key is that everyone in management buys into Walt Disney's message of 'keep the place clean, keep it friendly, and make it fun.' This culture drives the investment in our people." What sets Disney apart is that training isn't limited to frontline employees. "We didn't make the mistake made by so many other corporations by limiting our orientation and training to people on the front line," Thor continues. "Everyone participates in training, not just the ride operators or those who have direct contact with guests. From maintenance personnel and administrative assistants all the way to executives, there is full participation." This comprehensive approach ensures that every employee understands the importance of the Disney brand, its history, and its traditions. Ron Pogue, who started as a ticket taker and rose to Vice President of Disneyland International during his 34-year career, reinforces this point: "Every one of our employees—our cast members—knew their role, whether working on-stage or backstage. The key was ensuring that management understood this philosophy and then knew how to translate that core belief to our cast members consistently." The Disney University's success lies in its ability to capture both the hearts and minds of employees. It's not just about technical skills; it's about creating an emotional connection to the company's mission. Training isn't limited to "Here's what you need to do, now go do it." Instead, it creates an environment of thinking and feeling, instilling a spirit that transcends the classroom. Even the most sophisticated training technology can't accomplish this without the right foundation. The content of training programs, the individuals who teach, and the way employees are supported outside the classroom all reflect the health of the organizational culture. At Disney, this culture is built on crystal-clear values that are aligned with and fiercely supported by company leadership at every level.

Chapter 3: The Art and Science of Attractions That Never Break Down

Walt Disney stepped off the Jungle Cruise boat, his face reflecting unmistakable disappointment. Something was wrong, and everyone knew it wasn't good when Walt was upset. The problem wasn't a mechanical failure or a safety issue—it was the skipper's performance. Although the boat operator had recited his script perfectly and navigated the waters safely, his delivery lacked energy and enthusiasm. He hadn't acted his part with the showmanship Walt expected. Ron Dominguez, who was supervising the area where Jungle Cruise is situated, recalls the incident vividly: "We got word that Walt was furious that he got a lousy spiel on Jungle Cruise, and he let my boss, Dick Nunis, know just how upset he was." Walt's feedback was specific and memorable: "I want the skippers to act as if every trip on the Jungle Cruise is their first trip. I want them to act surprised when the hippos suddenly rise out of the water. The skippers need to be as surprised as the guests." This directive sent Dick and Ron into immediate action. They began riding with each skipper, critiquing their performances, and focusing specifically on enthusiasm. "Walt had a tendency of popping in unannounced on Sunday afternoons," Ron explains, "so we were determined to be up to speed by the time of his next visit. Walt's message to us was, 'The best is never the best, and pay attention to the smallest details.'" This incident illustrates a fundamental principle at Disney: the perfect balance between art and science. Building and maintaining the physical elements of the park—the attractions, restaurants, and shops—is just the starting point (the science). Maintaining the feel of Disneyland and employee morale is the art. Without both elements working together, the Disney experience falls flat. Walt and Van France knew that this balance was what differentiated Disney from its competitors. Many amusement parks might have faster rides, but they weren't well maintained and frequently broke down. They might have plenty of employees, but those employees weren't well trained, didn't know the answers to guests' questions, and weren't particularly friendly. Walt's vision demanded something more: never let the rides suffer from lack of proper care, keep the property clean, and keep it friendly. Disney trainers illustrate this principle through a powerful (fictional) story during orientation. Imagine a family of five who has traveled far to visit Disneyland. The children have been talking nonstop for months about meeting Snow White. When they finally spot her in the park, they rush toward her for autographs, pulling on her cape and screaming with excitement. Now imagine if Snow White were having a bad day—perhaps she had a tough commute, or the Seven Dwarfs were late to work. Picture her spinning around in frustration, glaring at the children, and barking, "Leave me alone. Can't you see that I don't want to be bothered?" Imagine her with a cigarette dangling from her mouth, her wig pushed back, and her dress wrinkled and dirty. Would the parents still be admiring how clean Disney keeps the park or how well the rides are maintained? Of course not. The entire Disney experience would be ruined by one cast member's failure to maintain the artistic element of the show. For every Disney cast member, technical competence must be paired with interpersonal excellence. The art of being Snow White means handling interactions with guests of all ages with friendliness and patience. The science of being Snow White involves mastering every movement portrayed in the classic movie. One without the other creates an incomplete experience. Far too many organizations struggle to achieve this balance. Companies that tolerate technically competent but rude employees (or those with friendly but incompetent staff) will eventually drive away both good employees and valued customers. Putting all eggs in either the science or art basket is a recipe for failure. Disney's approach recognizes that attractions operate successfully when art and science are given equal billing. The lifelike lions and hippos, the compelling soundtrack, and the tropical plants of the Jungle Cruise are just part of the puzzle. The boat, expertly painted to look old and rusty, is another piece. The clean safari-themed costume provided to the skipper adds another element. But it's the skipper's enthusiastic delivery that completes the picture. All these interlocking pieces deliver an enchanting experience that keeps guests coming back for more.

Chapter 4: Leadership and Rebuilding Morale in Cinderella's Castle

The Disney University staff knew they'd found the perfect setting for their crucial meetings with division leaders. The room had no windows or paint—just an empty space left over from construction, accessible only by a small construction elevator or a steep, narrow staircase. The setting couldn't have been more symbolic for the sobering message they needed to deliver: employee morale at Walt Disney World was spiraling dangerously out of control. The year was 1973, and the turnover rate had skyrocketed to an alarming 83 percent—far beyond the service industry average of 55 percent. Even those who remained were deeply dissatisfied. As one executive described it: "Our house was on fire, and we needed to do something about it." The room chosen for these emergency meetings was located in the tower of Cinderella Castle—the very symbol of The Happiest Place on Earth. The problem had been building since Walt Disney World's grand opening just 20 months earlier. The first year saw nearly 11 million guests pouring through the gates, leaving the thousands of cast members exhausted. A softening economy and reduction in workforce size had further intensified the pressure. Unlike the familiar 160-acre Disneyland in California, Walt Disney World spanned 27,400 acres—approximately 150 times larger—and included hotels, resorts, golf courses, campgrounds, and even its own telephone and utilities companies. This unprecedented scale created challenges no one had anticipated. The loss of Walt Disney in 1966 and then Roy Disney in December 1971 (just two months after opening) had deprived the company of its inspirational leaders. Without their guiding presence, the clarity of purpose that had motivated everyone during construction was fading. Cast members were burning out after years of intense pressure, opportunities for advancement were dwindling, and the 24/7/365 operation provided no seasonal downtime for rest and rejuvenation. Dick Nunis, who had learned directly from Van France decades earlier, knew that addressing this crisis required both symbolic action and substantive change. The meetings in Cinderella Castle were his idea. As one attendee noted, "The backstage room in the tower of Cinderella Castle helped set the tone and served as a way to further connect our leadership team to the front line, the park." When the director of the Disney University first met with Dick to outline a strategic plan, they agreed that no single department could drive organizational change. Dick immediately picked up the phone and personally called the vice presidents of every division, enlisting their support. He didn't order them to participate—they all recognized the severity of the situation and embraced the task as their personal responsibility. These weekly castle meetings became the foundation for an extraordinary turnaround. Initially involving just the division vice presidents, they soon expanded to include their subordinate directors. Within the first month, this collaborative team had created a comprehensive plan for reducing employee turnover: First, they expanded the Disney University's role beyond basic orientation to become a sophisticated vehicle for employee development, communication, and care. Second, they assigned a full-time human resources manager to each division, reporting to both their division directors and the Disney University director—strengthening collaboration between operations and training. Third, they began using data from annual employee opinion polls and turnover statistics to drive decisions. The data revealed a critical insight: cast members, the company's most important asset, felt lost in the shuffle. "We had put a lot of effort into attending to the needs of our external customers," one executive explained, "but now we needed to ramp up our internal customer service." This led to a revised employee development strategy—the centralized and decentralized approach. As Thor Degelmann describes it: "At the center is the Disney University. It is the keeper of the key, the company's conscience regarding the Disney brand; it is responsible for setting the 'big picture' to ensure a consistent delivery of the product. The decentralized portion is the responsibility of each operating division." The initiative expanded training beyond orientation to include professional development for employees at all levels. Cast Activities, originally the Disneyland Recreation Club, created new recreational and support programs, including a 60-acre recreation area at Little Lake Bryan, a day care center for cast members' children, and even a gas station offering subsidized prices during the energy crisis. They also revolutionized communication through whimsical billboards with timely messages, upgraded break areas and tunnels, motivational messages in paycheck envelopes, and weekly informational videos in break rooms. By 1975, just two years after the castle meetings began, the turnover rate had plummeted from 83 percent to 28 percent—a stunning 66 percent reduction. Viewed from the perspective of retention, the rate had improved from a dismal 17 percent to an impressive 72 percent. The key to this remarkable transformation wasn't any single initiative but the cumulative effect of leadership commitment, data-driven decisions, and cross-divisional collaboration. Dick Nunis had demonstrated that direct involvement from the top—not delegation—was essential for solving organizational crises. As the crisis faded into memory, a crucial lesson remained: the honeymoon may end, but with the right approach, the marriage can thrive.

Chapter 5: The Language of Success in Creating a Culture of Happiness

Van France, sitting at the front of the Disney University conference room in 1981, had a familiar glint in his eye. His audience—managers from the Japanese company that would own Tokyo Disneyland—listened attentively, notepads ready. With less than two years until the park's opening, these managers were in the United States for extended training, learning everything possible about operating a Disney theme park. Van knew his mission was critical: to convey not just the operational details but the true essence of what made Disneyland special. Rising from his chair, he paced across the front of the room, making direct eye contact with each participant before beginning his lecture titled "The Spirit of Disneyland." "There must be quality in everything we do. It does not just apply to maintenance and construction," he explained, pausing to allow the interpreters to translate. "Quality is essential in guest courtesy, in showmanship, and throughout our backstage activities as well as those on-stage." Van then delivered his most important message about creating a respectful environment: "The initial Disneyland orientation program was designed to 'take the servility out of service-related jobs.' In the program, certain terms were coined which have been copied around the world." He explained how Disney had created a distinctive language: "We don't have 'customers,' we have 'Guests.' We aren't 'employees,' we are 'Hosts,' 'Hostesses,' 'Cast Members.' We don't wear 'uniforms,' we wear 'Costumes.' We don't have 'crowds,' we have an 'Audience.'" "At Disneyland," Van concluded, "I wanted people to feel they were involved in something more important than parking cars, serving food, or sweeping up popcorn, that they would be creating happiness for others." From the very first Disneyland orientation in 1955, Van's goal remained consistent: instill pride in employees about where they worked and the jobs they performed. Creating happiness would be impossible if employees didn't feel respected and good about their work, regardless of their specific role. By introducing show-business terminology to Disneyland, Van helped transform the work environment. Employees became cast members, customers became guests, and uniforms became costumes. Over time, additional powerful terms emerged: good show/bad show and on-stage/backstage. These weren't merely cosmetic changes but reflections of deeply held organizational values. However, Van and the Disney University pioneers understood that creating a new organizational culture focused on respect required more than clever wordplay. Simply changing nouns or verbs won't ensure world-class customer service or create a motivated workforce, just as slapping fresh paint on a dilapidated house won't fix structural problems. Without leadership support, catchy terminology has little value. The culture Disney created is built on actions as much as words. When cast members see managers and executives bending over to pick up trash, the message is clear: "What they taught us in the Disney University actually happens; I believe it." The values instilled by Walt and perpetuated by Van are reflected in daily actions at every organizational level. Ron Pogue's description of teamwork illustrates how these values come to life: "Through our training efforts, both at the Disney University and in park operations, we instilled a sense of teamwork, constantly reinforcing our core beliefs of creating 'good show.' For example, supervisors and managers all pitch in when the park gets busy. On peak days, managers clear tables and install additional stanchions in the queue areas to help create orderly guest control." This culture of actions matching words extends to empowering cast members to solve problems. Consider Timothy, a custodial cast member who notices a crying child who has dropped his popcorn. Kneeling down to the child's level, Timothy says, "I'm sorry about your popcorn. Mickey Mouse told me he saw you drop it and knows you're really sad right now. And Mickey Mouse wants to know if you would like this big fresh box of popcorn." Miraculously, a new box appears from behind Timothy's back. The cost to Disney of a box of popcorn is mere pennies, but the message conveyed to guests and cast members is priceless: "We really do care about your happiness" and "We trust our cast members to solve problems." Even the recruitment process reflects this culture of respect. Thor Degelmann explains how they applied Disney principles when hiring 12,000 people in six months for Disneyland Paris: "We wanted to ensure we could move a huge number of people through the system of recruitment and interviews in an orderly, efficient way that also reflected Walt's vision of friendliness, cleanliness, and good show. So we simply treated the recruitment office as if it were a major high-capacity attraction in one of our theme parks." They installed television screens showing videos of cast members performing various jobs, decorated the queue area like a Disney environment, and conducted first-round and second-round interviews on the same day to eliminate return visits. The process itself demonstrated the work environment and culture candidates would experience. At its core, Disney's approach to creating a culture of happiness begins with one of Walt's most famous principles: "You can dream, create, design and build the most wonderful place in the world, but it requires people to make the dream a reality." By investing in those people—not just through words but through consistent actions—Disney has built an organization where employees truly believe they're building cathedrals, not just laying bricks.

Chapter 6: Spanning Cultural Gaps When the Haunted Mansion Gets Too Clean

Tokyo Disneyland's grand opening was just one week away. Disney's first international theme park was poised to launch the brand into a new era of global expansion. After years of negotiations and construction challenges, it was finally time for the press event—an invitation-only preview where media representatives would tour attractions, sample food, and experience the Disney magic firsthand. For thousands of cast members, this massive dress rehearsal was an anxiety-inducing test of everything they'd learned during their months of training. The custodial and groundskeeping crews had been especially diligent, cleaning and polishing every surface until the entire park gleamed with perfection. And that's exactly where the problem began. In their enthusiasm to make everything perfect for the press event, the Japanese custodial team had thoroughly cleaned the Haunted Mansion. Not just cleaned it—they had made it spotless. All the dust was gone. The spooky cobwebs had been removed. The Haunted Mansion was immaculate—it no longer looked haunted. Steve Lewelling, the director of operations at Tokyo Disneyland, received a panicked middle-of-the-night phone call: "Steve, they've cleaned the Haunted Mansion!" At first, he couldn't understand why this was a problem. Then the horrifying details emerged: the Japanese custodians had removed all the carefully created artistic elements—the rubber cement cobwebs, wallpaper stains, and dust on velvet curtains—that artists had spent weeks applying to make the newly built mansion look old and decrepit. "We had just put the artists on a plane and sent them back to California," Steve recalls. "I was on the telephone scrambling to get them back, and their plane hadn't even landed in Los Angeles!" This incident revealed a challenge far more complex than language barriers or construction issues: the profound cultural differences in how people understood their work. The Japanese custodians weren't inexperienced—they were seasoned professionals with years of experience cleaning hospitals, factories, hotels, and office buildings. But therein lay the problem. A haunted house in a theme park operates under completely different standards than a hospital or office. The root issues weren't related to language (they had excellent interpreters) or competence. The problems stemmed from two fundamental cross-cultural challenges: First, assumptions were made. The American trainers assumed the custodians knew what "clean" meant in the context of a deliberately "dirty" attraction. The custodians, drawing on their professional experience, assumed all buildings should be spotlessly clean. Second, expectations weren't clear. The directive to "clean the building" seemed straightforward to both parties, but each had a completely different understanding of what that meant. The custodians had successfully cleaned other attractions like Space Mountain to gleaming perfection and received praise. Why would the Haunted Mansion be any different? This cultural misunderstanding illustrates what Van France called the challenge of "different neighborhoods" within any organization. Throughout his career, Van recognized the barriers that separated various functional areas, age groups, and linguistic communities within Disney. He worked tirelessly to bridge these gaps, knowing that miscommunication between "neighborhoods" undermined the company's effectiveness. "As with any community, we have a variety of 'neighborhoods,'" Van wrote. "People in these neighborhoods frequently don't mix with others. Warehouse residents seldom visit the administration building unless it is on business." He noted how age differences created additional barriers: "Although our community has been youth-oriented, the boy and girl 'next door' are growing up and now parenting their own boys and girls who also work for us. We have a wide age range which varies from 16 to 70." Even technical jargon created divisions: "Although our community includes many who can speak most international languages, we also converse in technical jargon, which is difficult to understand if one is outside one's 'neighborhood.'" Van recognized that these divisions weren't just inconvenient—they were potentially destructive to the organization. In a memo titled "People Behind the Numbers," he emphasized the importance of seeing individuals rather than statistics: "Is the person behind the number a college graduate, a landscape host, or someone who can't speak English?" The Haunted Mansion incident taught Disney valuable lessons about cross-cultural communication that would serve them well as they continued global expansion. When they opened their second international park in France, they faced new cultural challenges—including whether to serve alcohol, which had never been allowed in Disney's American parks. In Japan, Disney had maintained its alcohol-free policy despite the cultural significance of sake (Japanese rice wine). Jim Cora, Chairman of Disneyland International, recalls: "It was a real challenge, but we never gave in. After the park opened, we actually received many letters from housewives praising our decision. They told us that since their husbands couldn't drink alcohol during their visit to Tokyo Disneyland, they stayed with the family the whole day." However, a decade later at Disneyland Paris, facing financial difficulties and criticism about cultural insensitivity, Disney reversed this policy. Michael Eisner acknowledged: "As our financial troubles increased, we finally allowed beer and wine." Another cultural negotiation involved name tags. Walt Disney had always insisted on a first-name-only culture, famously telling those who called him "Mr. Disney" that "My dad is Mr. Disney. Call me Walt." But in Japan, where addressing colleagues by last name was a centuries-old tradition, this created significant tension. Eventually, they reached a compromise: Japanese managers would wear first-name tags while in America but could use last-name tags in Japan. Jim Cora summed up the essential lesson from these cross-cultural experiences with a piece of wisdom from Van France: "Don't assume they know what we mean when we say, 'You're in show business.'" Clear communication that bridges cultural gaps requires constant vigilance against assumptions and a willingness to explicitly state expectations—even when they seem obvious to one party. As Van noted in his report "Disneyland: The Exciting New Era": "The terrible thing about the word 'communications' is that we usually don't know what we are talking about." The spotlessly clean Haunted Mansion demonstrated just how right he was.

Chapter 7: The Power of 'Plussing the Show' Through Constant Innovation

It's 1980, and Van France is growing increasingly frustrated by the "victim mentality" creeping into Disneyland's management team. Three converging forces are taking their toll: a worldwide recession causing fewer guest visits, the development of EPCOT in Florida stretching corporate resources, and the upcoming Tokyo Disneyland further depleting limited resources. For the first time, Disneyland isn't the only star in the Disney constellation, and the strain is showing. Determined to reignite Disneyland's can-do culture, Van prepares a refresher course for management called "Gentlemen, This Is a Guest!" Using a deliberately bare-bones approach, he challenges the complaining with characteristic bluntness: "It is truly head-in-a-hole thinking not to face up to the serious effects that inflation and recession will eventually have on our attendance." In the course materials, Van doesn't mince words: "There is not one darned thing that you or I can do about the recession, depression, bankruptcies, unemployment or interest rates. But there are things that you or I can do about improving the friendliness, fun, showmanship and general happiness of the guests who pay us. We are in the unique position where each of us can do something to protect our own jobs and careers by improving the show." Van's approach exemplifies a core principle that Walt Disney himself had championed decades earlier: "We have to keep plussing our show. If we ever lose them [the guests], it will take us ten years to get them back." This philosophy of constant improvement—regardless of economic conditions—became known as "plussing the show." The concept had deep roots in Disney history. There's a well-known story about Walt disagreeing with his Park Operating Committee over funding Disneyland's first Christmas parade. Despite their objections, Walt approved the expense, arguing that they needed to keep improving the guest experience. Even at Disneyland's tenth anniversary celebration, Walt reminded his team: "I just want to leave you with this thought, that it's just been sort of a dress rehearsal and we're just getting started. So, if any of you start to rest on your laurels, I mean, just forget it." Through his "Gentlemen, This Is a Guest!" sessions, Van focused on plussing the basics without requiring expensive new attractions or elaborate costume upgrades. He emphasized five key areas for improvement: First, think teamwork: "'We' is much more powerful than 'they,' 'them,' 'the young people,' or 'the unions.' Blaming is a bottomless pit." Second, think of guests as the audience: "Guests aren't 'units' or 'per capita'; they are human beings seeking happiness." Third, focus on creating happiness for others: "Guests come to Disneyland seeking a brief escape from daily frustrations." Fourth, practice being friendly: "Smile and be friendly with each other backstage, and it will transfer to friendliness on-stage." Finally, think quality and pride: "Both are essential in guest courtesy and showmanship." What made Van's approach so powerful was his refusal to accept economic conditions as an excuse for mediocrity. He knew that during challenging times, many organizations quickly abandon training and development initiatives. Whether facing a booming economy ("We're too busy to train!") or a recession ("We can't afford to train!"), the result is the same: training gets cut, and service quality suffers. Van rejected these excuses outright. Bill Ross recalls: "Van firmly believed in employment development activities and didn't let a slim budget get in the way. Money might be tight; creativity is free." In a report titled "Disneyland: The Exciting New Era," Van was even more direct: "The budget has become the scapegoat for every possible negative action and rejection of any suggestion for improving things. It is the coward's way out of any problem." Van also understood that training doesn't have to be elaborate or expensive to be effective. Some of the best training happens during on-the-job mentoring sessions or brief pre-shift "huddles." Jim Cora, who worked with Van for many years, explains his training philosophy: "Marketing is the time and money you spend to get people in the door. Training is the investment you make to get guests to come back and cast members to stay; it creates loyalty. If show was affected, I never cut corners to save money." This approach to plussing the show wasn't just about maintaining standards during difficult times—it was about continuously raising the bar regardless of circumstances. Van knew that complacency was the real enemy, not economic fluctuations. When cast members or managers started complaining about "that pixie dust," Van would transform into what Dick Nunis aptly called "an angry Donald Duck." His response was always the same: "Selling pixie dust? You're damned right. That's what we do and I'm proud of it." The lesson Van taught generations of Disney leaders was that differentiation through exceptional guest experiences requires constant vigilance and improvement. Economic challenges might provide convenient excuses for cutting corners, but organizations that truly want to stand out must reject those excuses and find creative ways to keep plussing the show. As Walt so clearly understood, once you lose your guests' trust and loyalty, regaining it takes far longer than maintaining it would have in the first place.

Summary

The true Disney difference isn't about cartoon characters or attractions—it's about creating an organizational culture where every employee feels personally responsible for delivering happiness. The Disney University achieves this through its Four Circumstances: innovation that challenges the status quo, unwavering organizational support from leadership, education tailored to specific needs, and entertainment that makes learning memorable. To create your own version of Disney magic, start by identifying the cultural values that are non-negotiable in your organization and ensure they're actively championed by leadership at every level. Invest in training that captures both hearts and minds, balancing technical competence with genuine enthusiasm. Remember that language matters, but only when backed by consistent actions—your employees must see leaders modeling the behaviors you expect them to demonstrate. Finally, reject the tendency to blame external circumstances for internal shortcomings; as Van France would say, "Money might be tight, but creativity is free." The path to extraordinary customer experiences always begins with extraordinary employee experiences.

About Author

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Doug Lipp

Gordon Douglas Lipp known as Doug Lipp is a consultant, speaker, and author based in Fair Oaks, California. Lipp is an expert in leadership and customer service. He is the CEO and President of G. Douglas Lipp & Associates, a consulting firm

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