On the big night, we arrived early. Where normally we would smuggle in the requisite treats, that night we splurged at the concession stand. Popcorn, candy, soda – anything we wanted! This was no ordinary movie, after all.

It was Winnie the Pooh.

Yes, we were two 30-year-old adults. But when the first trailer for 2018’s Christopher Robin hit YouTube, it tugged on our nostalgia, hard.

Every room in our house featured memorabilia from the most magical place on Earth, from Pop Funko’s to board games to a huge framed canvas painting over our fireplace featuring none other than Owl, Kanga, Eeyore, Piglet, and Pooh Bear. 

Except, Lindsey and I didn’t have kids then. So when a father and his 4-year-old son came in and took their seats next to us, we lit up. 

“What a great movie to bring him to,” I said, introducing myself.

“It’s Noah’s first movie, ever,” said the dad, beaming.

The chair engulfed Noah as he went to town on a bucket of popcorn literally bigger than he was. 

“Not too fast! That’s supposed to last the whole movie.”

Noah smiled up at his dad, kernels falling out of his mouth as he chewed.

Lindsey and I shared a silent smile. We were thinking about starting a family, and this was serving our confirmation bias rather well.

The movie opened on a going-away party for Christopher Robin, set in the Hundred Acre Wood. All the characters were there, each doing what they do best. Then, Christopher left for boarding school and, on that dreary note, the movie became a World War II drama.

And there it stayed for 20 minutes.

Noah became antsy, then restless.

We watched Christopher Robin transition from childhood to adolescence, get sent off to war, miss his child’s birth while in battle, and eventually return home to a miserable job and a lackluster relationship with his wife and daughter, who he doesn’t even know.

Noah was fidgeting pretty hard at this point. His dad tried to reassure him that his favorite characters were coming back, but even he didn’t seem confident they would ever return to the screen.

And then, in a moment of frustration, Noah belted loudly enough for the entire theater to hear,

“This is boring!”

“Okay, here we go,” said his dad as he scooped him up and swiftly left the theater.

It turned out, Christopher Robin was not a children’s film.

Growing up and out of magic

Christopher Robin: Silly bear. I don’t know why you came back. I’m not a child anymore. I’m an adult, with adult responsibilities.

 

Winnie the Pooh: But you’re Christopher Robin.

 

Christopher Robin: No. I’m not how you remember me.

 

Winnie the Pooh: I’m sorry. You’re right. You should let me go for a fish in the sea.

 

Christopher Robin: “A fish in the sea?” No, efficiency!

In this rendition, adult Christopher Robin is an Efficiency Manager. His job is to make sure things are ever-smoother and ever-cheaper in order to line the pockets of the all-important owners. 

To make that happen, Christopher spends most of his time at work, away from his family. He even bails on a rare weekend getaway. His wife is at her breaking point, and his daughter is devastated.

But of course, Christopher hardly notices. Or if he does, he ignores it. 

The movie’s thesis is clear: Efficiency comes at a cost.

And so, of course, his childhood friends from the Hundred Acre Wood (presented in a refreshing twist as real, not figments of his imagination) come back, teach him the value of family and fun, and inspire him to stand up to his bosses, who reward him with a raise and paid vacation time.

I mean, it is a Disney movie.

But before the story wraps everything up in a tidy bow, there is a genuinely sad scene where Christopher Robin yells at his oldest friend.

Pooh Bear, in his infinite curiosity, keeps asking Christopher questions about his “very important papers.” Pooh doesn’t understand why the papers are more important than playing games with him, or Madeline, his daughter. 

For many adults it cut far too close to home.

How often do we sacrifice family, joy, or beauty in the name of work?

It’s a steep price to pay for efficiency.

The Four Keys

I recently sat down with Dan Cockerell, the former Vice President of the Magic Kingdom, to discuss how Disney and the wider hospitality industry responded to the pandemic.

He explained the famous Four Keys of Disney, invented by Walt himself half a century ago.

They are: Safety, Courtesy, Show, and Efficiency.

In that order.

“Efficiency is always trying to push itself to the top, because when you’re entertaining 20 million guests a year, you want to do things fast.

 

But when you start doing things fast, you start doing things unsafely. You start doing things in a very curt way. And you also take shortcuts. That was the framework that we used.

 

And it’s a very powerful thing.

 

When 70,000 employees at Walt Disney World all are using the same protocols and the same metrics to think about their jobs, it is very powerful.”

Dan really emphasized placing a fish in the sea – erm, sorry – efficiency at the bottom of the priorities list.

It explains why Disney took so long to return to business after the initial shutdowns. Walt Disney World took over four months before opening its doors. Some Disneyland locations still haven’t fully opened in April 2021, over a year after the first wave.

In order to maintain the Disney brand – a brand is simply a promise – they needed to operate safely first.

Then, once they could operate safely, they needed to be able to operate with kindness.

Once they could be consistently safe and kind, they needed to deliver the show that attendees have come to expect. 

And only once all of that was in place could they worry about making things run fast and smooth again.

It’s worth asking yourself: What does your business prioritize? What about you, as a personal brand?

As tempting as it is to prioritize efficiency, you may end up losing sight of your true magic, and hurting the people you care about in the process. 

Listen to my full conversation with Dan Cockerell here, or watch below.