While last week’s findings on the Big Thunder accident did not legally
absolve Disneyland, the Company sounded all but exonerated in its preemptive
admission of blame released the day before the report from the State of
California Division of Occupational Safety and Health (DOSH) came out.
Disneyland emphasized that its policies and procedures were safe; individual
employees who followed them improperly were at fault.
Analysts and other admirers reacted jubilantly that the determination
was that employees erred. Blame fell to a machinist who didn’t tighten
a bolt and secure safety wiring, and a manager who erroneously signed
off that the work was completed. See!, supporters shouted. There’s nothing
fundamentally wrong with Disneyland’s maintenance department! There’s
no evidence of widespread deterioration caused by budget cuts. The system
itself, they argued, is fine.
I’m not so sure. Certainly it’s possible these were isolated errors.
Maybe, there’s more to it. Consider the spotless record of Disneyland’s
maintenance department for 42 years—until it’s turned on its head
in 1997. Then, in the ensuing five years, innocent bystanders start getting
maimed and killed by these same once-safe attractions.
So what exactly happened to Disneyland’s maintenance department in 1997?
That’s when the Management Consultants from McKinsey & Co. arrived, young
MBAs fresh out of Harvard, ready to show grizzled theme park veterans
how to provide “world class” service. Of course, the typical
management consultant can’t actually tell you what “world class”
means. In the revealing book Dangerous Company: The Consulting Powerhouses
and the Businesses They Save And Ruin, even renowned consultants who
have authored books on becoming a “world class” organization
can’t define the term.
Evidently, becoming world class entails abandoning everything you’ve
ever known about your industry and squeezing your business through a pre-set
template of changes. It’s like your company goes through a Play-Doh Fun
Factory and comes out the other end with the minimum number of employees
working as much as they can in the minimum amount of time.
Employee morale isn’t factored into the equation. Most of the old-timers,
who may be more likely to resist change (and coincidentally are higher
paid), are the first to go. And anyone else who doesn’t publicly embrace
the new system is next in line.
I recently spoke with a former executive at another large company that
enlisted McKinsey shortly before Disneyland did. He and others were skeptical
of the consultants’ drastic suggestions, but his arguments were ignored
by the firm’s chief executive (who, ironically, currently sits on Disney’s
board of directors).
“The problem is these consultants come in with no knowledge of the
business they’re hired to assess,” he explained. “They think
that success is determined by the process, the system, and that people
are interchangeable. No, people must take ownership of the system or it
will fail.”
The result is a toxic workplace. The employees who remain are typically
lower paid, less experienced, and less motivated. Remember, it’s a key
component of the system that individuals are unimportant.
This is the opposite of the age-old “Disney Way,” in which
every job was crucial in “creating happiness” for each guest.
For decades, Disneyland maintenance workers were part of a team, a family,
dedicated to perfection. They took pride in their work because they felt
a connection to and affinity for the finished product. Now, demoralized,
they see themselves as part of the machinery.
This is the atmosphere backstage at Disneyland, where once-unimaginable
tragedies are not so surprising anymore.
The culture at Disneyland must change. It’s not a store or a factory;
it’s a unique entertainment business.
There may be a glimmer of hope, if judged by the speed with which the
names are changing on the office doors at the corporate Team Disney Anaheim
(TDA) building. In the past, these newcomers have demonstrated their belief
that people do matter, that theme park experience, a sense of history,
and guest satisfaction count for something.
Management by Merchandisers appears to be out of favor. Retail-minded
Resort president Cynthia Harriss has left, followed by most of her lieutenants,
including director Tammi Harrington (the Disney Stores veteran charged
with overseeing a McKinsey-like overhaul of Disneyland’s security department),
as well as senior vice presidents Randy Baumberger, Marilyn Alexander
and Howard Pickett.
The last man standing seems to be the one most thought would be first
to go: T Irby, the retired Army general who implemented the McKinsey-mandated
changes in the Facilities department. Through last week, rumors persisted
that Irby, too, had departed. Yet, as of Tuesday afternoon, Disneyland’s
Human Resources Department insisted that Irby was “currently actively
employed” by the company.
Despite Irby’s employment status (his departure possibly postponed to
distance it from the Big Thunder incident?), he’s badly outranked by many
of the newly transferred executives.
Irby has lost oversight of Attractions (and many other operations) to
the likes of Greg Emmer. Said one Disney World old-timer who has known
Emmer since his first tour at Disneyland 30 years ago:
“Greg will be a real asset to Disneyland. He worked his way up
from the parking lot to the Executive Suite. When it comes to running
the Park, he is in my words, Un-Horsesh*ttable—that is to say he
knows what he’s doing and what’s important. If given the backing, he’ll
put the proper emphasis on guests, profits, and employees (cast). He
is truly someone who has earned the right to lead.”
The bad news is that caveat: if given the backing. The resignation
letters from departing directors Roy Disney and Stanley Gold show that
disappointment in Disney isn’t confined to maintenance workers in Anaheim
or us kooks on the Internet. The criticisms are founded—and point
all the way to the top.
To matter, any changes instituted by the new TDA will require the blessing
of the Big Cheese. If they don’t happen, you now know whom to blame.
