In my down time during breaks between nanny assignments and music gigs, I am more often than not perusing internet job boards for career miracles. This time, it was Craigslist. I responded to a posting entitled, “BUNNIES NEEDED.” About three weeks later, when I had truthfully forgotten about responding to the ad, I got a very early morning phone call and a job offer.
The next day, I was trying on a fuzzy white suit with a zipper from butt to neck, equally fuzzy white mittens and booties, a tuxedo vest/bow tie combo bedecked with pastel rainbow eggs, and a huge rabbit head and face. The headgear was the size of a classroom globe, made of two pieces of PVC bolted together into a sphere at the top. It was covered in the same fuzzy material as the suit, with added rosy fuzz for the cheeks, a bubble gum-pink button nose, mesh eyes and a mouth that doubled as “ventilation holes”, and one single tooth that brought the look together. Two days later, I was at work as Santa’s right hand (wo)man.
I worked this year at a mall located centrally to several neighborhoods, and there was great diversity in everyone I saw. I gave a lot of hugs, became the centerpiece of numerous family portraits, cradled more newborns for first Easter photos than I can recall, happily calmed a lot of nerves, and unsuccessfully attempted to ease some others. My favorite “winning-over” stories involved making the decision that the Easter Bunny knew how to do ballet, and deciding that the Easter Bunny’s favorite color of jelly bean was pink.
My interactions with adults while in the Bunny Suit were also nothing short of interesting. One woman, who appeared to be under the influence, came up to me and asked what I could do and if I could talk. A man, who I think was a mall office employee, came up to the side of the set and asked, “Now, do bunnies really lay eggs?” I nodded my large plastic head in response. He replied, “You’re lying, sir!” and walked away.
Before I was busy honing my bunny skills on the job, I had not really thought about how historically male my character was. The fact that I was a female in a rabbit costume did put several parents at ease during the character greeting and photo taking process, but most people who asked or made comments and found out the gender identity of the person behind the fluff were surprised, even taken aback. Many parents had trouble calling the bunny “her," even if their child immediately picked up on the fact that I was a girl. A mall patron told me how creepy I looked in the suit and told me not to “start no funny shit." I replied by asking him if he had heard the news story about the physically violent Easter Bunny in New Jersey this week.
His eyes widened as he exclaimed, “That’s a WOMAN!”
If you ever get the chance to be the Easter Bunny, there will come at least one child who asks if you are real. I remember being 4 or 5 years old and pointing out inconsistencies between Santas and Easter Bunnies in different locations or on different days in the same place to my parents. I wanted to know why there were all these different people claiming to be the very same character that loved me and brought me gifts while I was asleep. My mom gave me the most beautiful explanation: all these different Santas and Bunnies I was seeing were assigned to be helpers for the real thing. How could Santa or the Easter Bunny be at all the malls at one time for photo ops when they had boys and girls to prepare to surprise? It made perfect sense to my preschool-age mind, and from that day on I wanted to be a helper someday, too.
Behind the face of Peter Cottontail (or Patricia, as I affectionately re-named my alter ego), I had an opportunity to brighten people’s days, even if just for a second. There were a few rough moments when I wanted nothing more than to leave mid-shift and go straight to a bar. There were overwhelmingly more moments I would not have been able to experience in any other job title.
During one of my last shifts, two separate children gave me presents: one gave me a piece of gummy candy shaped like a carrot, while the other gave me a nickel. These small gestures helped me to realize the impact I had on strangers by wearing a funny suit and exhibiting kindness. Whether they walked by and waved at me, had a conversation with me in passing, or came and sat in my lap, these children felt enlightened and special and loved for a moment because I made an effort to encourage them to believe in the big white rabbit sitting in front of them. I think that is what being a helper is. I hope the real Easter Bunny is proud.
