Olympic Games Maker; Uniform & Accreditation
London 2012 Olympic Games
By Bryan Little
I was ordered to report to UDAC distribution centre in East London on Friday 1 June 2012 at 2pm. As with other articles, I cannot be specific about the details of the location but I can give you a general idea of the experience. UDAC is the acronym for the Uniform Distribution & Accreditation Centre. The building acquired by the LOCOG – London Organising Committee had been an old beer warehouse. Unfortunately, there were no residual barrels. The ceiling of the building was covered with blue hessian to give the impression of a false sky. The purpose of my visit was to collect my Olympic Games Maker uniform, accreditation document and travel card. It was a muggy day in London with temperatures in the region of 20oC; grey and overcast. I was about to experience all the shopping encounters of my life rolled into one.
To get to the distribution centre I had to use a combination of modes of travel. Over ground – Great Anglia; Underground – Jubilee Line and Docklands Light Railway (DLR). My journey gave me glimpses of some of the Olympic sites that will become a permanent part of the London skyline; the Olympic Stadium, the Orbital structure and Westfield Shopping Centre; to name but a few. I arrived at the distribution centre in plenty of time. I was brought up in the old-fashioned way; never be late for an appointment. Unlike the initial interview to become an Olympic Games Maker there were no rigid timeslots. You just turned up around the proposed time and the process began.
The initial hurdle was like walking into your local Post Office. There seemed to be endless metal posts with miles of inter-joining flat tapes. It reminded me of a childhood game; dots & boxes. It object of the exercise was to ‘kettle’ potential clients in a limited space. The first station was designed to prove who you were. You had to produce your passport or driving licence. Whilst I was waiting my turn, I noticed the minute inspection of passport by an immigrant official with a magnifying glass. This was a warning that this was no rehearsal; it was the real thing. The result of this process was a piece of paper with a number on it. It was very like a visit to an IKEA store combined a round of a Mastermind – “I’ve started, so I’ll finish”. It was stressed that I should follow a predetermined route; no hessiation, no repetition and definitley no deviation.
I was directed to follow the orange line on the floor; not the green or purple line; …the orange line. My long journey lead me to the next station with a laminator. This is where I collected my Olympic Games Maker accreditation. All relevant information about me: photo, name, zones, bar code, etc. was sealed for posterity. It was like a plastic sandwich. The identification was topped off with a designer neckband with the London 2012 logo decked out in the themed colours. It was impressed on me that this document was specific to me and that I had to guard it with my life.
The first task was to issue me with my kit list. This was an A4 sheet of paper with my name on it and details the sizes of the items that I would be issued to me from the stores. I was told that there was no going back. I had to select the correct size with over the next few stations since they did not operate an exchange policy. It was at this station that I collected the booklet on accreditation.
The next experience was like stepping back in time. It reminded me of when I used to go to the school outfitters to buy a pair of shoes at the start of new school year. I was told that I was only trying out the trainers for size. I was directed to sit on a seat and remove my shoes; only problem – no shoe horn. I was encouraged to walk up and down in my new trainers, to make sure they were comfortable since I was going to spend most of my shifts walking around in them. They were lighter than a standard pair of trainers. Very supple; it was like having another layer over your feet. After writing the size on my kit sheet, I was directed to sit and wait for the next stage.
I could have been forgiven for thinking that I had been transported to an M&S store. There were 4 rows of changing rooms. Down the centre isle were a series of clothes rails containing trousers, polo shirts and jackets. I was assigned to Jean, who would not be out of place in the fairground as a ‘guess-your-weight’ artist. She eyed me up and down and then selected the relevant sizes from the clothes rail. After trying them on, she added the sizes on my kit sheet.
The penultimate station was like army distribution stores from a 1950s film. The ubiquitous posts and rails lead you to the start of a long table. First you were given a kit bag pre-filled with umbrella, watch, water bottle, notebook and cap; then at each position along the table you were provided with the sizes that had been determined in the previous exercises, plus 2 pairs of socks. The items were taken from boxes stacked on shelves. Each box was labelled with the relevant size; small, medium, large, extra-large …and so on. The kit sheet reflected the items provided.
The final stage of kit distribution process was the checkout. It was just like the point of sale counter at the local supermarket; Tesco, Asda, Sainsbury’s, Morrison’s, etc. This was the only part of process where I had to queue. This gave me a chance to talk to fellow volunteers; the person in front of me in the queue came all the way from Exeter. The purpose of this stage was to make sure your bag contained all the relevant items. They unpacked the items, read the barcodes and re-packed the kit bag.
On the way out, I was directed to a Portakabin were I collected my travel card. The Transport-for-London (TfL) representative explained the terms & conditions of card. They described how to clock-in and clock-out at the barrier. The travel card covered journeys within zones 1-6; basically the area that is bounded by the M25. This means that I don’t have to pay any transportation costs for the duration of my shifts. From the outset, it was made clear that travel and accommodation costs outside London would have to be met by each volunteer.
The place was emptier than I had expected, there seemed to be more clients than processors. The whole process was conducted in a subdued atmosphere; talking was kept to a minimum. At the start each stage I was welcomed with a cheery smile. At the end of each stage I was dispatched with a warm shake of the hand and a farewell salutation to enjoy my Olympic Games Maker experience.