I stood at the entry point to Epcot. The glorious 18-story tall geodesic sphere guests have lovingly nicknamed the silver golf ball lorded over me. It promised another journey on my favorite attraction at Walt Disney World, Spaceship Earth. Only one thing stood in my way. An infernal blue light blinked on the fingerprint identification sensor. The Disney cast member, one whose favorite character is clearly Grumpy, looked on disapprovingly. In her mind, I was a con artist trying to cross over into Disney territory without first paying the appropriate toll.
All I could do was look down at my MagicBand, glumly swearing that I had performed the odd scientific ritual required to turn the light green. We tested one another’s resolve through steely glares, and she eventually relented, allowing me a fourth (and decidedly final) attempt. This time, the contours of my index finger finally aligned with the system’s recognition software. The employee stepped aside and ceded me entry to Epcot, albeit grudgingly. And in that moment, my dislike of MagicBands crystallized.
Yes, as much as I consider myself an early adopter and adore emerging technologies, I have a few bones to pick with The Walt Disney Company. The MagicBand is one of the greatest ideas anyone working for/with the corporation has ever had. It’s also among the most divisive. Guests like me love its convenience, but we lament some of its functionality. We also regret how dependent we are on shaky technology.
Had I not been able to turn the light to green that day, the cast member openly bragged that she would turn me away since I hadn’t remembered to bring identification. It’s that reliance on the Magic Band that causes it to seem like a double-edged sword. Here’s my list of problems with the Magic Band and a suggestion as to what Disney should consider to solve each concern.
1. Cast members hate them
This statement isn’t universally applicable, and I’m not even sure it’s the majority opinion. The cast members who do feel this way are passionate on the subject, though. It’s something we’ve noticed over the past few years.
Whenever we try to pay for meals with them, the server inevitably wonders aloud whether their machine will work or not. Oftentimes, they’re right to worry. Even when it works for us, they relay tales of angering other guests who weren’t so fortunate. Sometimes, the machines just don’t work for the day, which opens an entirely new set of troubles. And when you’re the unlucky guest who has the machine break on them, you have to try several times only to be told that they’ll handle your bill the old way. That SHOULD NOT happen.
For whatever reason, the Magic Band struggles in its interactions with the portable handheld devices that servers carry. The pass code won’t take, the transaction won’t authorize, or the machine will randomly reset as if no handshake attempt has been made. Think about how you would feel in your day job if one of the key tools of your trade were unreliable. It’s got to be MADDENING.
What’s the solution? Look, technology has to work for it to provide utility. Disney Imagineers have to go under the hood to determine why the handshake interactions are unreliable. The fault very well may be with the cast member devices rather than the Magic Bands, but it’s impossible to say without a massive amount of testing. That’s a trying task for a wide swath of electronic devices that are already in the wild. Disney might need to plan the obsolescence of the current Magic Band V1.0 while testing its replacement (and accompanying handheld) behind the scenes. The current version seems too broken to fix.
2. Size matters
I call this the Unopened Door Scenario. Correct usage of the Magic Band seems to depend on height. Contacting the band to the door lock is reliant on the correct angle of use. Otherwise, the chip won’t trigger the lock release. Height seems to play a critical factor in this process. Perhaps we’ve had an easier time noticing this than most guests since I’m a foot taller than my wife.
At a couple of Disney resorts, she’s stopped trying to unlock the door. At 5’2”, she struggles to place the Magic Band at the appropriate angle. Now, I should stress that this is anecdotal. I’m speaking only of our personal experience. The average adult female is 5’4”. I have to believe that if doors failed to unlock this consistently for all women, the story would receive intense media coverage. Still, the fact that my spouse can’t reliably open the door to her room at Walt Disney World is a huge problem.
Disney has to find a way for the RFID chip to unlock doors from any angle. Readers who live at or visit gated communities understand that this process should be automatic. A single wave of an unlocking device is always enough to trigger the lock release. Why isn’t that true of Magic Bands? Before I suggest a solution, let me address the bigger picture.
3. Magic Bands are unreliable
Stop me if you can relate to this statement. When we have a slew of Magic Bands, some open the door while others don’t. Some provide access at admission gates to Disney theme parks while others don’t. And some pay for goods and services while others don’t. It’s the dirty little secret of the post-Magic Band era at Walt Disney World.
Disney visitors have learned to curate their various Magic Bands. Yes, the corporation is currently trying to reduce their overhead by sending fewer bands per vacationer. Guests who have visited often since 2013 understand why. My family has about eight boxes of Magic Bands sitting in a utility closet right now. We save them as keepsakes of our trip. What we learned as we tried to use each one is that for whatever reason, the failure rate is high.
Let’s think about the situation in terms of the average electronic device. For most mass consumer electronics, anything over 5 percent would seem like a lot. For Fitbit and Xbox 360 owners and the unfortunate souls who bought the Samsung Note S7, they’d kill for only 15 percent failure…but I digress.
These are consumer products I started thinking about my time at Disney since the advent of the Magic Band. Each one has garnered headlines for recalls and public indictments of their struggles. How does the Magic Band stack up?
Image: Disney
I’ve spent almost 50 days on campus over that time. To Florida residents, that’s not much. To people living outside the state, it’s a LOT. Friends tell me it’s too much time at Walt Disney World, which just goes to show that friends can be idiots. The point is that in considering the anecdotal failure rate for Magic Bands, just the ones I’ve witnessed and not including the ones I’ve heard about, it’s about 25 percent. Every fourth time we try to pay for goods, use the Disney Dining Plan, use the entry systems at parks, or get in our rooms, the technology fails. That’s waaaaaaay too high for something that needs to be automatic. If your credit cards failed that often, you’d be too embarrassed to use them.
My solution to this particular problem is an odd one. What I’d ask of Disney’s decision makers is that they cordially invite family members and friends to visit the park. Have them plan a trip just as any guest would. The personalization is crucial here. Random data on a spreadsheet regarding survey results is constructive, but it’s too neutral. Disney park planners need some skin in the game here. They need to get Magic Band feedback from loved ones who will be honest about their interactions with the devices. I suspect the comments would prove enlightening. Several years down the road, Magic Band technology still feels like it’s in beta.
4. The curious case of the fingerprint failure
Image: Disney
One of the most troublesome aspects of identifying Magic Band flaws is deciding whether the band is even the issue. I’ve already discussed the dining problem. It’s an aggravation, but it’s not the worst problem. The most frustrating aspect of Magic Band technology right now is the one I referenced in the introduction. Using the Magic Band and then a fingerprint identification to enter a park is mercurial at best. In more honest terms, it’s a broken system that fails as often as not.
When technology works right, you take it for granted. You only notice when it fails. That’s why the current park entry system at Walt Disney World is infuriating. Getting through the gates feels like random chance more than science. When I first set up my Magic Band and fingerprint in the spring of 2014, I used the wrong finger. It felt natural to me to use my left index finger in that moment. For the year that followed, I wanted to use my right index finger. And that’s how you get the blue light denying entry rather than the green light accepting entry. I accept those instances as user failure.
Amusingly, I spent the entirety of that year thinking, “I’ll pick the correct finger when I set up my next annual pass.” I promptly picked the wrong finger again for that one. Yes, Disney will allow you to switch, but it’s aggravating. More than anything, it’s the curse of the ambidextrous. I use both hands equally and never know what will feel natural in a given moment. That’s 100 percent on me.
The part that’s on Disney is everything else. I frequently wait in line at the fingerprint scanner, tap my Magic Band as required and perform the index finger ritual, only to discover that the blue light triggers instead of the green light. That’s on Disney. Technology likes this has to work reliably if it’s to hold such an important step in the process as authorizing park access. Walt Disney World receives 100,000 guests each day. Pay attention to the entry process the next time you’re standing in the line queue. How many blue lights do you see? How many of those are false negatives, attempts that should have led to successful gate entry? It’s a staggering number.
Image: Disney
I thought about this the last time I visited Animal Kingdom, which has the worst entry process of the four parks. The lines create a functional bottleneck, and the new metal detector system right in front of the Magic Band kiosks only magnifies the problem.
To my mind, the solution here is simple. For whatever reason, Disney tried to simplify the entry process by requiring guests to use only one finger. The outcome of this choice is that each would-be entrant has only a 10 percent chance of selecting the correct finger. Even when they pick right, the blue light still might come on. Access should require a full handprint. It’d actually produce fewer incorrect outcomes. My suspicion is that Disney chose a single finger since that narrows the surface area of the input device, but the saving of space came at a much higher price than they anticipated. The slowness of park access is artificially increasing the amount of traffic at the front gates. More green lights at the fingerprint identification kiosks would solve this problem while dramatically boosting consumer confidence in Magic Bands.
The core flaw with the technology is that it’s clearly a hybrid, compromised version of work between two groups, the outsiders Disney hired to work on the My Magic+ system, and the Imagineers who loyally keep the flame of Uncle Walt. Since the two parties famously butted heads on multiple issues, the resulting technology has odd limitations and fails in unexpected ways. It almost does enough but the shortcomings are glaring.
The Magic Band is similar to new credit card chip technology. It’s much better for Disney than it is for guests. The credit card chips operate much more slowly than the swiping system used for the past 15 years, and the only benefits of it are for the giant banks who own the cards. Consumers are the ones who suffer through all the problems. The same is true of Magic Bands. They’re a wonderful idea with many positives, but the failures are infuriating. If Disney would simply take a step back and acknowledge that they need to revise some of the current practices, Magic Bands would become perfect. Instead, theme park tourists have developed a love/hate relationship with them. They’re great in theory but imperfect in execution.
