Mass Production: Behind The Scenes Of Dinner Aboard A Disney Cruise Ship

The trip my family took aboard the Disney Dream was indeed magical. Everyone enjoyed themselves tremendously and I was given a rare opportunity to perform some naturalistic observation research on Disney Cruise Line's food service operations.  I was excited to observe, first-hand, systems utilized by all 165 of their cooks (actually 164... after one was fired and sent home after a hand washing violation). With approx 20 cooks on each of the restaurants' lines, except for Palo which has a team of 7, the need for effective communication and efficiency is high.  A huge number of people are served aboard these ships (ours held 4,000 and on this particular voyage there were 3,842) so the restaurants operate at a level of efficiency akin to that of a military operation... which means: achieving the greatest level of precision with the least amount of "collateral damage". The key is focusing on the big picture (or "mission") which is getting a lot of food, cooked properly, to the right people at the right time. It's not about innovative cerebral cuisine expertly prepared with light-handed nuances. Therefore, disappointing those guests with lofty expectations of having one of the best meals they've ever eaten... is what I am referring to as "collateral damage". On my back-stage tour, I learned a few unique ways Disney effectively satisfies their loyal customers... which made for very useful souvenirs to take home with me.

The Right Tools for The Right Job: Chopsticks for Kids

Catherine had been asking for her own chopsticks ever since she first saw Mommy and Daddy using them...but her lack of dexterity never seemed to deter her from trying, so hard, to eat with them.

With the use of a rubber band, any take-away sticks can easily be transformed into "training sticks".

The tremendous sense of pride and enjoyment that results from "Doing it!!!" is well worth the additional two minutes of our time.

Analytics: Breaking Down Gender Role "Reversals"

I can’t help but think of my mother (or any other mom I’ve ever known) who never seemed worn from the challenges of keeping a house and raising children. I do remember plenty of performances by my parents that began with the following address to my father (who would be reclined in a chair watching football): “I need some help around here!!!”…but I can also remember thinking …”help with what!?”

Past performances dictates that when a man is the bread-winner of the family, he typically: mows the lawn, shovels the snow, changes light-bulbs, walks the dog, pays the bills, gasses up and fixes the cars, deals with vendors and contractors , etc…  But it now my understanding that when a hard-working woman is the bread-winner of the family, most of these household responsibilities are not assumed…rather they remain the “man’s work”.

Whether this is a result of pre-established gender identity or (as in my wife’s case) simply not having enough time due to an insane work schedule, I still find it pretty interesting.

I can therefore predict that, just because I’m filling, what is traditionally, a woman’s role in child rearing….my wife is not going to suddenly start taking out the trash or turning the lights out downstairs when it’s time to go to bed.

If she gets home early enough and is not feeling like she’s “cutting in” on my routine (I’m often guilty of taking on too much myself and not yielding or asking for help) my wife enjoys making dinner occasionally. Most often, and understandably, my wife prefers to spend some time with our two year old when she walks through the door and If I was working 80 hrs. / day and was able to come home early one day...I’d prefer to have more than just story-time before bed as quality time with my daughter. 

My wife also empties the dishwasher from time to time (although it is, admittedly, her least favorite thing to do on Earth) so now I’m trying to be more conscious about saying “Thank You” for that. Not only because I do appreciate it, but also because I’d like a few more “Thank You’s” myself.  After all... panti-pretzles don’t pick themselves up off the floor you know.