Saying Goodbye to the Mouse

So, I've turned the purse upside down and there is a pile of junk on the bed to sort through. There are a lot of keys. Keys can be hard things to get rid of. We tend to carry them around long after they have lost their usefulness. The first thing I need to deal with is a big, shiny, golden key, that is shaped like Mickey Mouse. It used to open a big important door everyday. But it no longer fits the lock. Until recently, I worked for "The Mouse" (as the Walt Disney Company is commonly referred to by its employees - otherwise known as "cast members"). Working for "The Mouse" suited me just fine. It paid well (another key). We had health insurance (another key). They gave me a car (a key with a key). The keys to my job look terrific on my key ring. They add weight and I feel important carrying a lot of keys around. Over the past couple of months, I have taken the Mickey key off my key ring, but I haven't thrown it out. It, along with all the other related keys, has been residing loose at the bottom of my purse.

My job was very special to me. Disney had always been a part of my life. When I was a little girl growing up in Fremont, California, Sunday nights meant Ed Sullivan and Walt Disney's Wonderful World of Color. This was true for just about everyone from my generation - we who were little kids in the 60's. I loved Disney growing up. As a family we went to Disneyland only twice - once when I was 3 (in the photo, that's me looking in the window with my mom and sister, Linda) and again when I was 14 - but no matter. I had Disney within me. I loved the show. The opening song offered a chorale of men and women singing "The world is a carousel of color..." with a kaleidoscope of colorful shapes exploding on the screen. Even on our black and white TV set, you could feel how beautiful it was. And always Walt, talking to us kids at the beginning of each show with his kind, mellow voice. You loved him. And you just knew that if he only could meet you, he'd love you back. Walt Disney was as real in my childhood life as my own family. I felt safe in his presence - even if his presence was on TV.

I did not seek a job at the Walt Disney Company. In fact when I was offered a job there, it was just another big company and frankly, it was a little intimidating. But in 1993 I was hired away from a competitor to sell advertising space in Disney's new magazine for kids: Disney Adventures. Once there, I became immersed in the culture of Disney and quickly I developed an enormous pride at being part of this wonderful organization. I re-connected with my love of Disney. I was now part of Walt's "family" - this man I had loved as a child.

My older girls were still pre-schoolers when I took the job and so they grew up with all the magic. The first week I began working there I went to the Disney Store and bought three princess costumes (Snow White, Belle, and Cinderella) and brought them home for the girls. I have a photo of them wearing those dress that evening and there is pure joy in their faces. Working at Disney offered many perks for me and my family. The highly coveted Silver Pass allowed us to go to any of the parks any time we wanted. We had discounts galore, took Disney vacations, attended the holiday parties every year, did the amazing cruise. More importantly, it was Disney that allowed us to buy our wonderful house and move from a neighborhood with a lot of graffiti to a neighborhood with a lot of horses. Working for Disney changed all of our lives dramatically. We went from "struggling" to "middle-class" overnight. I never lost awareness of that. It was a wonderful job. In fact, it was more than a job. It was a lifestyle. We were a "Disney Family". And we felt very safe in this "House of Mouse".

Every day, I went to a beautiful window office in Burbank. The view was spectacular from the 17th floor. At one time, my office overlooked the Warner Brothers Studios and the Hollywood hills. At another time, it overlooked the mountains and the city of Burbank. I decorated my office with framed pictures of my family and artwork that I liked. We were all "outfitted" with Disney coffee mugs, drinking glasses, and a wide array of "Cast Member Excusive" swag. I was very comfortable there. I visited every day with my family of Disney colleagues and friends. We knew each other and each other's families. We laughed and worked together. Sometime we fought - but rarely -and we always found our way back to one another. I spent as much time with these people as with my own family. Meryl especially - we started with the company within a month of each other and our offices were always right next to each other.

Don't get me wrong, it wasn't perfect. As with all things there were good days and bad. There were people I loved and people I really didn't. There was a lot of pressure. There were many internal changes over the years - magazines launched and folded and each transition was difficult. But for most of the 15 years that I was there, I would wake up and actually look forward to going to work.

The job itself was fun. I would meet and build relationships with a wide variety of people. I liked my clients and for the most part they liked me. Doing business was like making friends. It was not always easy. I worked hard to win the business. Sometimes I lost and that was never a good day. But the good outweighed the bad. And mostly, I was successful - until the last couple of years when everything felt like an uphill and un-winnable battle.

On January 20, 2009, after struggling against mounting challenges that faced the magazine publishing industry as a whole, Disney ceased publication of the magazine I had been working for. After 15 years, I was let go on March 31st, along with many other staffers, sales people, and editors. Let me tell you, losing a job is a horrible feeling, but losing a 15 year career at a place that you love feels like a death. And I have grieved the loss of my job for a long time now.

But lately I have been a bit disturbed by my attachment. After all, I am not really a member of the Disney family. And how can a brand make me safe anyway? Am I not more than an advertising account manager? Is there nothing else I can say about who I am than what I do? Is my value really tied up in the ownership of a SILVER PASS? This group of friends and colleagues - we developed genuine friendships (I truly miss them all) but we almost never socialized outside of the workplace. And have I lost sight of the fact that Disney didn't just give me a salary and benefits? I actually did a job for them. And I was good at it. I made a lot of money for them. My youngest daughter was stricken by the loss. Having her mom work for Disney was a source of pride for her. And while I hadn't realized it, she had grown to define herself as a "Disney kid" - which wasn't so healthy because while her kindness and support toward me during this time was unbelievably moving, she sobbed for weeks in the privacy of her room not because I had lost my job but because I had lost my job with Disney. To console her, I feel a need to remind her regularly that we are still a "Disney Family". Except we are not a "Disney Family". We are a Smith family.

Is the fact that I am laid off scarier because I have lazily defined myself by the company I worked for? Is it not possible that I owe gratitude to the Walt Disney Company not only for hiring me, but for laying me off as well? I am beginning to see this layoff as a gift. At 52 years old, I am forced redefine myself. I have to look in the mirror and think about who I really am. I am embarrassed to admit I cannot honestly say who I really am right now; this is a confusing time. But this I know: I am not my job.

I love my golden key shaped like Mickey. I love everything about it. I love what it stands for. I love the memories it represents. I love the way it feels in my hand. Parting with it is extremely painful and I am afraid to not have it with me. But it has lost its usefulness. It has become part of a big pile of clutter. And it is headed for the garbage.