I didn’t post about my first week earlier because I honestly couldn’t figure out how to cram my entire 48 hour week into a concise, coherent post. And I still don’t know if I can pull it off. Hell Week. That’s what it was. I really think it’s a bad sign when I’m dreading getting up on the second Monday of a new job.
The funny thing is that the kids are relatively easy to handle. If it were just them, I could totally do this. But just like before, the hardest part is not caring for the children but appeasing the parents. And these people have been repeatedly smacked with the crazy stick. If the dishwasher is not loaded just how he likes it, the father will literally, take out all the dishes and re-load it. I can’t just park randomly in the parking area of the house. No. I have to park next to another car so that it looks neat. I’m not allowed to be in the kitchen at the same time as anyone else. I have to slice roma tomatoes in half before I can pack them in the kids’ lunches. I can’t “overcook” the kids’ laundry in the dryer. I have to call the mom after I drop of the kids every morning to let her know that they’re at school. I have to clean and vaccum out the car every other week. Etc. Etc. Etc.
Just keeping all of these rules straight in my head is driving me looney. It’s like walking on eggshells with these people. I’m absolutely terrified of inadvertantly screwing something up. And the mother makes no qualms about letting one know when she’s not happy about something.
Did I mention that this family is uber wealthy? As in multi-millionaires. As in they own practically the entire town that they live in. As in they are widely disliked in this same town. As in, I had only been working for them for four days before someone gave me a pitied look for having to work for them and then launched into a diatribe about why they are snooty and evil.
And yet another rule is that I’m not allowed to talk about them. To anyone. Because they are so ubiquitious in this town, anything that I say will undoubtedly get back to them. I didn’t ask if this covers blogs …
So yeah. I don’t know if I’m strong enough to do this. And I honestly don’t know if it’s worth it. Is it worth $15 an hour and health benefits to work 40-60 hours a week, rasing two children for a family who is this anal and controlling? Is it worth this much stress and anxiety? *sigh* In any case, I’m seeing this through at least three months. That’s the promise I made myself. Three months. And if I’m still completely and utterly miserable after that amount of time, I’ll give them my notice. In the meantime I have to find a way to stay relatively sane.

Oh, and did I mention my car died? Yeah. Icing.