MOM’S PANEL MANIA-part 2
“We’re sorry, but we cannot validate your login against our database of approved applicants. Thank you once again for your time and interest in this exciting program.” The words seem to almost glare at me as I look at my computer screen with wide eyes.
I have just tried to open the secret “back door” where some Disney Mom’s Panel applicants have found access and acceptance into Round 2 of the selection process. Their login identities were validated. They were given permission to view and answer the next 3 questions for further consideration as a Mom’s Panelist. I, however, have not been so fortunate. In fact, my Disney identity has been labeled “invalid.”
I begin taking deep breaths to try and keep my emotions under control, but I can’t yet leave the webpage I’m on. I’m “invalid” it says, and I can’t quite shake that word. I acknowledge that not being validated by “Others” (also known as non-Disney people) is something of which I am accustomed. They are not expected to understand me or validate me. After all, they have not been touched by the Mouse. But here I am, near the zenith of my Disney history, and Mickey Mouse, himself, will not validate me. It is a bitter pill to swallow.
Tears begin to fill my eyes even though I was determined from the beginning not to get my hopes up. There were 20,000 applicants for a mere 10 positions. I knew that making it past the first cuts of the selection process was a long shot. Yet, I can feel my heart slip a little further with each passing minute.
I must get back to the Disboard thread and see how people are faring with clicking on this “back door” link. Many wise posters attempt to remind us all that Disney has not initiated this “back door” usage, and so no one can be certain that these “valid” and “invalid” statements are accurate. But as more posters get in even after I was denied, I can’t help but feel the “back door” is actually the “front door”.
Putting on my best Mickey ears beanie, I reason that this is not all about me. I need to fully support the other applicants who are finding their way into Round 2. It does seem obvious that they love Disney just as much as I do, and I’m not so arrogant in my NDM ways as to believe that I am more qualified than they. So I begin to post my congratulations and statements of support as I see more and more “valid” declarations coming in.
“But where are the confirmation e-mails?” many posters want to know. Numerous personalities state that they refuse to try the link without one. They are determined to wait for the promised e-mails before they will believe anyone has been given true acceptance. A small part of my soul that believes in “happily ever after” to a fault clings to the last hope of finding an e-mail. Yet, it does seem to become more certain that those getting in were meant to get in, and those being denied were not.
A few hours after the “back door” discovery, missy28 confirms that e-mail notifications have finally been sent out. She is officially accepted, validated and invited to proceed with Round 2. Her entrance through the “back door” was accurate after all. Something within me dies. There is no more hope. My empty inbox is now sure evidence that I am, indeed, invalid.
Finally, I decide I need to take a breather from the thread. I have sincerely and profusely expressed my well wishes for all my fellow Mickey Mouse moms who made that tough first cut, but the truth is that I’m hurt. I need to come up for air before I drown in disappointment.
Looking away from my monitor, the unkempt state of my home is crying for attention. I suppose it is time to regain the ground I’ve lost as homemaker this past week. Cinderella had to scrub floors for many years before she got to go to the ball, and–apparently—I will have to do the same.
I tackle Mount Washmore and start on some laundry loads. It isn’t long before I receive notification through Twitter that a fellow Disney friend, Prince Charming’s Tink, has sent me a direct message. She is devastated by her denied login identity and feels lost in our “small world.” I try to provide comfort through company. “Misery does love it,” I tell her and myself, but it seems to do little for either of our broken Disney spirits. “What’s wrong with me?” Tink wants to know. I reassure her that there is nothing wrong with her. There are just a lot of very qualified people applying for these positions. It was probably unrealistic for either of us to hold out the slightest hope for our wishing star to grant something so dreamy. I rationalize that when Jiminy Cricket sung, “Anything your heart desires,” the Mom’s Panel had not actually been created yet. How could he have anticipated that the “anything” did not include the Mom’s Panel?
My attempt at a pep talk isn’t helping. Both Tink and I know we are heart broken, so we consider the alternative therapy for depression . . . a pity party. Pull out the Dole Whips, chocolate Mickey bars and Casey’s hot dogs! I’m going to want extra sour on that Biergarten sauerkraut.
Time is drawing close when I will have to get ready to leave for my waitressing job, but the pity party is on a roll. Tink and I bemoan our inadequacies while still trying to lift the other’s spirit with affirmation. Then a pop-up declares I have got a new e-mail. I couldn’t care much less at this moment. What in the World could possibly matter? Out of sheer habit, though, I pull up my inbox page and see a forwarded e-mail from someone named Tina Trybus. Of course! I would get an irritating forward spam note at a time like this. Why does my filter work so inadequately sometimes?
I am about to delete this irritation from my life when my eyes glance to the subject of the forwarded letter. It says, “Walt Disney World Moms Panel Confirma . . .” Confirma . . . seems to imply confirmation. Could it be? I decide to risk infecting my computer with a deadly cyberspace virus by opening this note of unknown origin. Putting Tink and my sauerkraut in holding status for a moment and delaying my preparation for work a few minutes more, I skeptically click on this curiousity.