Just last weekend I took my youngest son to Disney’s Animal Kingdom for the morning. My son is autistic, and while he is 6 years old, he struggles with language skills. But I knew he wanted to go to Disney’s Animal Kingdom. I also know there are two animals he likes more than any others: giraffes and dinosaurs.
As we got out of the car he grabbed a small toy horse. I motioned for him to leave it in the car, but he was insistent about bringing it along. I emphasized that he could end up losing it if he brought it. But he wanted to bring it. We entered the park and headed toward Kilimanjaro Safaris. As we prepared to board the first row of the caravan truck, I took his horse and placed it in my pocket. Last thing we wanted is for a bongo to be digesting four-legged plastic.
The truck forged onward with a spirited cast member at the helm. Shortly thereafter my son started to wimper.
“Are you OK?” “What’s wrong Preston?” I can’t figure it out.
We came upon the rhinos and I turn his attention to them: “Look! Rhinos!”
I did the same with the hippos, and then with the crocs. But he’s upset and not even wanting to look out. I kept inquiring, “what’s wrong?”
We reached the savannah and then he started crying out. I couldn’t figure out what’s wrong with him. Was he in pain? Was the cast member too loud on the speaker? We reached both adult and baby giraffes and I thought, “surely he’ll be excited to see his favorite animal.” He didn’t pay attention. I saw the mandrills (seldom seen on the safari) so I pointed them out: “Look, monkeys” (I realize they may not be “monkeys” but his favorite movie currently is Toby Tyler and it has monkeys).
He remained upset. I became frustrated and I kept asking him what’s wrong. I couldn’t understand him. I felt embarrassed in front of all these guests with a child that is clearly upset. But I couldn’t appease him. He’s been on this safari at least three-dozen times in his life, and I never saw him respond this way.
This continued all the way until we get to pride rock portion with the lions, when I suddenly realized—duh—he wants his horse. I pulled the horse out of my pocket and he was as happy as he could be. Fortunately, we were at the end, so there was little possibility of it falling out of the safari vehicle.
I’m thinking I need to do a better job of listening.
We headed toward the other end of the park to Dinoland. Typically, our experience has been to do the TriceraTop Spin as well as the Boneyard playground.
This time, I turned to him and say, “Here we are at Dinoland. Where would you like to go?”
He turned and headed off. He went by the Boneyard. He passed by the TriceraTop Spin. Finally he arrived in front of a plastic dinosaur squatting along the Cretaceous Trail. He climbed on top with the other children. I sat on a nearby bench and observed. He spent an easy 20 minutes enjoying being on that dinosaur. Finally I suggested we go find other dinosaurs. We wound our way along the Cretaceous Trail past some other dinosaurs positioned in a way that they cannot be climbed on. We then re-emerged where he took note of the iguanadon positioned in front of DINOSAUR. He made some growling noises. Then he ran as fast as he could. Where to? You guessed it. Back to the original dinosaur he was playing with.
I let him enjoy another 10 minutes playing on this dinosaur contemplating the enjoyment he found from this simple attraction quietly situated in a vast billion-dollar park. I then motion for us to head out. He had no interest.
I asked, “would you like some fries?”
“Yes. Fries.”
I walked past Restaurantasaurus and PetriFries (still opened) and headed over to Safari Barbecue. I knew if I got him some fries at the other two locations he would still want to go back to the dinosaurs. I got in the queue at Safari Barbecue. I look at the children’s meal (no, not for myself) to study the options. With recent efforts to be more nutritious, they’ve emphasized grapes and carrot sticks and apple juice, with a parenthetical statement about cookies, fries and soda being substitutes upon request. I have no problem with this. I think it’s a good thing. But I did promise fries, and fries are not listed as an option here as they have been at other WDW counter service facilities. Over the blare of a nearby percussion band, I inquired.
I was told it’s not an option. I thought my son probably wouldn’t mind if I ordered grapes and a cookie. So I did.
In a thick accent, I was told the cookies are extra. I explained that it’s listed as an option. Against the blare of the music, she stated that my choices were grapes, carrots, apple sauce and Jell-o.
I asked what “is the cookie and sodas a substitution for?”
She didn’t understand.
She kept telling me the same thing over: “you may have two choices of the grapes, carrots, Jell-o or apple sauce.”
Frustrated, I ordered applesauce and grapes. She rang up the order and I went to the counter. None of the others understood me either. The music was loud and all of them spoke English as a second language. Finally, one person gestured to please me by giving me a cookie on top of the other two items. I wasn’t looking for an extra, I was looking to switch. Still no one seems have understood.
Now, what do all three of these experiences suggest? We have to do a better job of listening with empathy, of trying to understand. They say empathy is like an iceberg—it has two parts: The top part above the surface is the skill; the part below the water is our own attitude in understanding others.
I’m not blaming the communication skills on someone who speaks English as a second language. I have lived abroad a couple of years struggling to speak Spanish on the streets of Colombia. It’s not easy. I empathize. And against the blare of the band, I don’t find fault with her any more than I blame my son who is struggling to learn any language skills. It’s simply most of us—including customers—need to be more patient in understanding others. More than anything, it seems to be about listening more and walking in the shoes of others.
Speaking of shoes, I just got my son dressed for school. He complained about his shoes being too tight. I loosened the velcro and repositioned it. He still complained. I adjusted it again and again. He still wined. Frustrated, I yelled out, “then you fix them!” Upset he went looking for mom bawling.
Quickly I defended myself: “I’ve tried to adjust them. I don’t know why he’s complaining.”
My wife replied, “Well, it would help if you put them on the right feet.”
So much for empathy and listening.
