A Disney Princess Mask for an Undercover Secret Agent

People who know me well would tell you that I'm a Disney World fanatic. And yes, if you've been to Disney World, you might think it's because of the amusement park rides ... but really .... that's not it for me.


The reason I love going to Disney World is that I'm allowed to step into a place where people are happy. Whatever is going on in your life, I think this is the only place on earth where the staff makes a concerted effort to convince you that it doesn't matter. It's a place of suspended reality -- a place where the world stops turning on its axis, and you can just sink into the colorful joy of make-believe.


Now when I took my part-time job at Cracker Barrel to obtain affordable health insurance, I didn't approach each work shift as if it was drudgery. No -- if I had to work a menial job to pay for health insurance for me and my child, at the very least, I would have fun doing it. It was the only attitude available to me, because anything less would have made the mission ... well ... impossible.


I didn't have to think long and hard about how to do it, either. 


When I was 16 years old, I had a part-time job as Minnie Mouse in my local shopping mall in Syracuse, New York. For five hours a day, my only job was to skip around that mall and play with children. So the connection was easy for me -- I'd apply everything I'd seen in action at Disney World to my retail store job at Cracker Barrel. In essence, I would put on a Disney Princess mask for my secret agent role. I would become that Minnie Mouse again -- only this time, clad in a brown apron, white shirt and khakis. 


Cracker Barrel has a simple motto for its dress standards for employees: "Country fresh." It made perfect sense to me. Every day when I got ready for that job, I kept that "country fresh" motto front and center, all the way from the creases I ironed in my pants' legs to the way I affixed a pony tail or bun atop my head. I walked out of my house with a starched white shirt and my female version of a Tom Cruise smile.


I became that persona. I blended it into my mannerisms and my attitude. 


For me, it was about adopting an old-fashioned sense of pride in my work. Yes, the work wasn't at all like my freelance journalist life. But that was the point. I relished in the idea that this actually could be my own personal escape, too. It was true that most women my age didn't have to take such a measure to provide for their families. That didn't matter to me anymore. What mattered was that I enjoy every day and that I make the people around me enjoy it, too.


I would be the Disney Princess in Cracker Barrel, I decided. I would achieve the Mission Impossible with the Ariel smile on my face, the Snow White song in my heart, the Rapunzel can-do attitude and the graceful panache of Cinderella to cap it all off.


And I did. During my first few weeks at Cracker Barrel, I was assigned to weekend nights -- Fridays and Saturdays -- and usually Sunday afternoons. I made it my mission to play cars with little boys, cradle dolls with little girls, choose the best old-fashioned candy with elderly gents, suggest soft clothes for shop-a-holics, turn on every moving animated stuffed toy crammed on the shelves ... and straighten, and sweep, and dust, and shine windows ... with the Disney Princess flair.


But even with that contrived attitude, I still had my moments of extreme frustration ...


.... like the night I saw the man who almost killed me. 


And ironically, the incident was all connected to my need for health care.


Tune in for the next part of Mission Impossible: Health Insurance.