The Mrs.

Wednesday, July 29, 2009

Last year, I had been working as a nanny in London for a few years and decided that I wanted to move to NYC (I have dual citizenship). I registered with some agencies and straight away I saw a job that appealed to me. The client liked the look of my resume, and before I knew it I was booked to go have a week trial in their summer house in the Hamptons. The night before I was due to leave, I received a phone call from the housekeeper letting me know that he would be picking me up from the airport and telling me that I was not allowed to wear anything that showed my shoulders or legs, as per the rules of the lady of the house. Ok, I thought, maybe it’s a Hamptons thing? Maybe she wants me to fit in with everyone? I didn’t have time to research it so I just shoved all my long sleeved tops and trousers into my case and hoped for the best.

When I arrived at JFK, I met the housekeeper and he seemed nice enough. He gave me a few pointers about how to behave in front of the “Mrs”, as she was called. We reached the house in very good time so the housekeeper took me to the supermarket ; apparently the Mrs didn’t like people arriving early and he didn’t want to annoy her. He must have bought $500 worth of bottled water for her and said that he did so every few days. I later learnt that they employed someone just to keep the pantry in order (and believe me, everything was always in its place anyway, with row after row of healthy foods in bulk and a whole shelf just for water).

At 3pm on the dot we pulled into the long driveway and I went in cheerily , despite my fears. The Mrs. looked me up and down and didn’t even say hello. She took me in to a room and proceeded to interview me. Once the questioning had finished, she handed me the “nanny manual” which was a good seventy pages long and told me to go to my bedroom to study it for half an hour. It contained every bit of information I needed to know about the kids from their favourite Disney princesses to an outline of a circle to indicate how much shampoo to use on their hair. It also mentioned that I had to encourage the kids to say ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ but that I wasn’t allowed to use the word ‘no’ to them ever. By this time, I had already made up my mind and knew I couldn’t work for these people. I spoke to the housekeeper, who said I should just act as if everything was fine and he would speak to the PA to sort out when I could fly home. So, there I was stuck in the middle of nowhere having to look after 6 year old twin girls who had obviously learnt all their behaviours and attitude from their mum.

The Mrs decided to give me a tour of the house. When we reached the kids’ room, she opened a door which lead to a massive walk-in closet. One side was for one of the twins and the other side for the other one. Both sides were identical and had the clothes hung up in colour and size order, just like a store. The Mrs proceeded to let me know which knickers (underpants) went with which outfit. Of course, I had no interest at all but nodded in agreement as if I was taking it all in. She then brought it to my attention that the knickers were numbered and that should I pull out the wrong ones and not put them back in their place, I would get a verbal warning. Two warnings and I’d be out. Seriously, I felt like pulling them all out then and there just so she would send me home straight away. After the shock of the underwear situation, I was introduced to the kids who I had to keep with me at all times which was impossible because they would run off in different directions and I needed a GPS to navigate around the mansion. I had brought some arts and crafts projects with me so I tried to engage them in those, which worked for about five minutes, when suddenly I heard a scream and the second housekeeper, a little South American guy, came running out of my bedroom shouting my name. I got up to see what the problem was and he told me to follow him. In I went to find the family’s pet pig with his snout in my bag and the whole room covered with chewed up bits of wrappers from my snacks I hadn’t finished on the plane. I quickly tried to tidy up the mess, knowing that anything with sugar in to was forbidden in the household, all the while trying to shoo the pig out of the room. Now this was a big pig and in the whole madness of the situation, he managed to get my passport!!!! So there I was wrestling the pig to get it out of his mouth while the kids were running wild throughout the house. It was one of those laugh or cry situations and thankfully I saw the funny side of it (these random things always happen to me!!)

Ok, so passport saved and kids safe and sound with some other member of staff, I sat down and tried to call my husband. The only problem was I had no cell phone reception. Arrrggghhh!!! I had no idea when the nightmare would end. Straight after the kids went to sleep, I went to bed but hardly slept for fear that (a) I wouldn’t wake up at the right time (don’t forget I was jet lagged!) and (b) the pig would find his way into my room again in the night and scare me. When morning came, I attempted to make the kids’ breakfast but apparently I put in the wrong amount of oatmeal in the pan and didn’t have the right stirring technique. At this point, the Mrs noticed how scared I looked and took me aside to talk to me. She told me how she had taught her kids to be in charge and eat people alive and that’s what they were doing to me. I agreed with her and told her I didn’t think it was the right fit. She wanted an explanation why, and without calling her crazy and saying that I didn‘t actually like the kids, it was hard to give her a reason that sounded plausible. I wanted to keep it all very polite and civil, bearing in mind that I didn’t know how or when I was going to get out of the place. So there I was just repeating that it just wasn’t right and she kept questioning me over and over so that she could understand the situation and not repeat it in the future (she said she had already interviewed over 100 applicants!!) After a long talk, she decided that if at the end of the day, I was still of the same opinion, she would book me a flight home. Thinking this was the quickest way to get out of there (I still hadn’t heard back from the housekeeper or PA who were both in the city at this point), I agreed. So, I spent the day out with the kids and the Mrs, in the knowledge that I could escape later that evening.

Late afternoon, I was playing with the kids and picked up a Barbie doll from the floor. One of the girls came running over and tried to grab it from me. I tried to get her to say please (not sure why I was even bothering at this stage) but she kept pulling it away from me and screaming at the top of her lungs. The Mrs appeared and asked what was happening. I had let go of the toy at this point and the kid had it in her hand. She looked at me and whacked the doll around my face leaving a red mark. I knew the Mrs. had no intention of saying “no, we don’t do that” to her kid from what I had read in the nanny manual but I was hoping she would at least let her know that it was unacceptable behaviour. NO chance!! She asked her to explain why she had done it and the girl just said that she was mad at me for touching her doll. The Mrs went on to praise her kid for expressing herself so well. WTF!!!

As dinner approached, the Mrs asked me what my plans were. I told her straight that it wasn’t the job for me and she went ahead and booked my ticket home. With much excitement and relief, I packed my bags but carried on helping out with the kids. We set the table for dinner and when the food was ready to be served, the Mrs pulled me aside and told me not to talk to the children anymore if I wasn’t going to be their nanny and sent me to sit by myself over the other side of the kitchen to eat while the family and other members of staff sat together at the table. Of course, I was just ready to get out of there but I had to wait for a car service to come to pick me up. On the journey back to the airport, I learnt from the driver, that I was the 2nd nanny that week to come and leave after 1 day and that they had also had a chef who had walked out after making one meal the previous week.

When I got to the airport, I called my husband (it was about 3am London time) and let him know I was coming home. He seemed annoyed that I hadn’t given it a chance but I said I would tell him everything as soon as I landed. I really couldn’t believe the whole situation and couldn’t wait to get home to let everyone know what had happened; even on the plane home, I had to stop myself from telling strangers about my crazy adventure. At least I have a great story to tell at dinner parties!!!

A few months later I found a job in NYC and am actually in the Hamptons as I write! Thankfully not in the same area as the Mrs, although I did see her in Central Park a few months back . I never knew I could run so fast. Occasionally I still get calls from agencies asking if I am interested in a new job and not long ago, they told me about a really nice NYC based family with sweet as pie 7 year old twins, a pet pig and 2 housekeepers, one of whom is South American and a really nice mansion in a certain part of the Hamptons. Am thinking they are still looking for a nanny……

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