New York


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Well, it looks like I’ll be back home in two weeks. My mom is flying in on the 11th and we’re going to drive all those thousands of miles, yet again.
I’m actually very much okay with all of this. It was a good learning experience. I took a chance and I gave it my best shot. I wouldn’t take it back. I mean, I wouldn’t repeat it either, but I wouldn’t take it back. That whole cliche about everything teaches you a lesson actually kind of applies here because I definitely learned a few things about the world and about myself. I learned I’m stronger than I thought I was and much more resilient. And in the end, I’m no worse for the wear. In fact, I’m kind of better. I get to go home and spend time with all my moonbeams that I missed dreadfully and I now appreciate their parents so much more than I ever could have if I hadn’t gone through this. Mrs. P (and I feel that I really should change her name now) has the appeal of an ice cream sandwich since having to deal with Baroness Bomburst. So I’ll be home in time for Buddha’s first birthday later this month and hopefully things will turn out just fine. In the meantime, I have a week to have some fun and relax. Getting fired’s not so bad afterall.

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For starters let me just say that I’m well aware of how spoiled I am when it comes to human interaction. Whether it’s because of my face or my personality, I don’t know but people generally like me. In fact, I’ve become well-accustomed to being quite loved by most everyone. This is great for the most part except when it’s not. And when it’s not, is right now. Because for someone like me, who isn’t used to rejection, being rejected really sucks. A lot.
That being said, I was fired today. Fired. And one of the main reasons for this firing was what? Because Baroness Bomburst “didn’t get warm and fuzzies” from me. No. Seriously. She repeated that several times. Apparently we “just don’t connect.” That being said, the main reason for my firing was this. I used her computer. I used her computer when she wasn’t home to do the following: print coloring pages for Jeremy, the boy, check my e-mail, look something up on mapquest, and idly look at pictures of my Buddha that I had on Flickr. Now, as I told her, several times mind you, it was out of line for me not to ask. I will say that the former nanny had used it on several occasions and I hadn’t realized it was a big deal, however that’s no excuse. I definitely should have asked permission. In any event, that was “the straw that broke the camel’s back” apparently. Turns out that the computer usage, coupled with the lack of “warm and fuzzies” in addition to my supposed “lack of initiative” was enough to sack me after two weeks of working for them. The initiative thing really bugs me because damnit if I haven’t been trying as hard as I can to try and prove myself. I really truly, have. In any event, she’s “very disappointed” in me and my “performance” as the nanny which “is a shame because (she) had such high hopes for (me) especially with my background.” This mantra, too, was repeated several times. All in all, she basically kicked me in the teeth and told me that I should look for another job, “if (I) haven’t already started” which she assumed I already had. I also got the impression that this wasn’t a sudden decision. It seemed that she had been waiting, all week, for something concrete to be able to fire me. Otherwise she wouldn’t have withheld the expense check for the children, which I was supposed to have gotten at the beginning of the week. Anyway, I gave her my keys back and said goobye to the children. This is the part that really pissed me off. I went to hug Jemima and said goodbye, to which she responded “No, don’t leave. You can sleep downstairs.” This is the same child that I was accused of “not connecting with” which was yet another reason for the firing. I was lectured on Wednesday about my inability to connect with Gemima. But that’s a whole other bowl of bullshit. Jeremy tackled me when I kneeled down to say goobye and gave me a kiss as I left. They have no idea they’ll never see me again. I’m sorry for them because in the last two weeks that I’ve known them, they have been nothing but affectionate, bright, energetic, albeit spoiled children and they don’t deserve to be treated this way.
I hope she knows what she’s in for, taking responsibility for her own children like this. I’m not sure she knows what she’s getting herself into by raising them herself. It’s not as though she’s ever done it before.
In any event, I’m trying very hard not to take this personally. We didn’t connect and a few months down the road I may just have quit anyway, so maybe she did us both a favor. Still, it hurts a bit.
And finally, I have to wonder if Baron Bomurst’s friendliness towards me had anything do with this sudden firing. I think, in a way, it would hurt a little less to know that it wasn’t something I did wrong but, whatever. Either way it’s over. I have a lot of thinking to do this weekend. I don’t know if I want to go home or not. Man this growing up thing sucks.

My shrink once told me that I have slight sociopathic tendencies. At the time, I laughed because it sounded kinda cool. Now, I wish it were true because I can’t for the life of me figure out how to talk myself out of this mess. I’m trapped. I’m living in a hotel, paid for by my employers. Originally they stated that they would pay for it for two months (2 mo = $4,000), during which I was supposed to save money and look for a permanent place to say. Well, I found a place. I want to move. Only problem is that I haven’t actually gotten a paycheck from them yet and I’ve spent, literally, every penny I have on this move and on my car. They didn’t pay me to relocate, which I now realize I should have tried to negotiate beforehand. Basically I’m in a position where I need their money. The security for this place is $1300. They are willing to advance me the money so that they can take a little bit out of my paycheck every week until it’s paid off. This is good. Except that there is no way I want to be in debt with them for three months. The idea I put forward was that they use some of the money that I saved them by moving out of the hotel a month and a half early on the security for my deposit. Afterall, if the money was going to be used on my housing anyway, wouldn’t transering it make sense? Makes perfectly good sense to me. Erm, no. Not to the selfish assholes that are my employers. No. According to the father, what they were doing by paying for my hotel was them generously investing in my getting settled. Generosity my ass. I moved out here on the condition that I would have a freaking roof over my head. That I would have two months to save money for a place to say. Well, the instant I got here, I got e-mails after e-mails with listings for apartments. It was clear that they wanted me out of the hotel as soon as possible. They even loaned me a company car when mine broke down so that I could drive around looking for places to stay. Not because it might be a bit dangerous and scary for me to be stranded in a strange town with absolutely no means of transportation. No. So that I could look for apartments. So I did. I found a place. It’s a house share in a beautiful home that’s owned by a really sweet Indian couple. Well, because this isn’t a regular apartment, they didn’t ask for a lease agreement. This is a problem for my employers. They feel that it’s too big of a risk to hand over so much money without a written agreement. Okay. That makes sense. I get it. I agree to get a written agreement the following day. Half an hour. Half an hour I sit there listening to the husband explaining all the risks involved and the reasoning behind their pressing this. I get it! Really. I get it. I nod. I say, okay. I understand. Over and over again. I feel like I’m listening to my father telling me about boys and why they can’t be trusted. Broken record. Really, I get it. I get it. Finally, I approach with my idea regarding the money saved on the hotel and my security deposit. What do I get it? A patronizing smile and yet another rant about their generosity and how it isn’t as though they has allotted a certain amount of money for me. That it wasn’t intended to be transferable, that my getting an apartment sooner wasn’t some sort of incentive to pocket money, though that’s clearly not what I’m doing. And so I’m pissed. More than pissed. I’m pissed at me. I’m pissed at them. I’m pissed because they are being godamned misers and over what? $1300. That’s fucking pocket change for them. It wouldn’t make a dent in their checkbooks. And it’s not as though they weren’t intending on spending nearly double that on my housing anyway, right? But on the otherhand, I don’t want to be a begger. I don’t want to have to plead for this, because damnit, I’m too proud for that. However, I definitely do not want to be in debt with them for three months. Either way, I’m still a charity case. Either way, I’ll owe them. Owe them for their generosity, or literally owe them money. And I’m starting to hate them. For being affluent assholes. For talking to me like I’m twelve. For making me feel like I’m in a vault with no way out. And there is no way out. And I hate it. Because I’m here thanks to them. I can’t leave. I can’t escape. I’m completely flat, fucking, broke. So I’m lassoed to them. Completely shackled and trapped.
Shit.

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.

Well, I survived my first day of work. Eleven and a half hours. I’m actually feeling really good about this. I was getting a little worried because the current (almost former) nanny is like superwoman. She’s been working 50 hours a week despite the fact that she has walking pneumonia. She runs the household with grace and dignity and is incredibly wise. I know I can do a good job but there’s no way in hell I can do everything that this woman does. But anyway, it was a good day. She’s awesome about giving me all the ins and outs of the job and about sharing responsibilities. Truly, she’s phenomenal. So while I may feel a bit inadequate next to her, I know that she’s preparing me very well for this and I’m so grateful. In other good news, I received my first birdy today as I was trying to make a left hand turn. I’m oddly proud of this. I feel like I’ve been officially indoctrinated as a New Yorker somehow.


Well, folks, I did it. I took the job. I drove to New York. Yes, drove. Thousands of miles. From the west coast to the east. Craziness. I’m here now and getting settled in. It’s crazy how much crap and red tape I have to deal with. I was completely unprepared to spend quite so much time figuring things out. Thank god for my mother who drove out here with me and flew back this morning. Yesterday we woke up early and headed out to the post office to open a PO Box. Because I’m living out of a hotel room at the moment, we figured it’d be helpful to have an address for mail. Nope, I needed a New York driver’s license to get a PO Box. So we headed to the local DMV to transfer my licencse but the catch 22 is that I needed an address to put down. So we decided to use the hotel address in the meantime. Then, since I had just transfered my license, we tried to register my car, only problem is that I needed to have my insurance transferred to NY as well so we packed up again and headed over to State Farm where we had to transfer over my policy and figure all that out. Then we went back to the DMV and registered my car and got the new license plates. So then we stopped by Home Depot to get nuts and bolts because in NY you need license plates on the front and the back of your car. Unfortunately they didn’t have what we needed, I need to get a special frame to put the plate in because the front holes don’t fit the holes in the plate. Then we went back to the Post Office and I turned in my application for a PO Box but it turns out that the guy who deals with all PO Box applications and whatnot is on vacation so I won’t be hearing from them until Tuesday or so. Then we went by Staples to try and get me organized. I got a new planner and some new file folders and whatnot. And finally we stopped by a credit union and opened a savings and checking accout for me here. Which, again, I had to use the hotel address for. Did I mention, that it was pouring rain the entire day? *sigh* So that was my day yesterday. Running errands back and forth. On the bright side, at least I have a much better sense of the area now. I still have to go get my oil changed and then go for my emissions test so that I can be fully registered and licensed and all that. Man is it complicated. Thank god most of it is overwith and thank god for my mother who helped me through it all. I start work on Monday for the family. The current nanny is leaving on Friday so I’ll have five days to train with her. I’m excited and a little nervous. Wish me luck!

Things are really progressing fast. I’m heading to NY this coming Friday. I’m excited and nervous. The parents are an uber-wealthy, high-powered couple and I’m definitely intimidated. I knew they were fairly affluent to begin with. Hell, anyone who can afford to pay upwards of $30,000 a year on chilcare can be considered well-to-do, but I didn’t realize just quite how rich they actually are. And boy are they ever. The father is a businessman, which is really all I can say without revealing his identity. The mother is the president of a very large real estate company in the Northeast. They own two homes in the New York area and have a private plane with which they travel to and from their various abodes. The children, who are four and almost five attend an incredibly elite preschool and are pretty much already on their ivy league journey. I have absolutely no idea how to handle people like that. Dr. Doormat and Mrs. P, while not poor by any means, don’t have a fraction of the money that these people do. So I’m terrified. Scared that I’ll commit some serious social faux pas, that I simply won’t be sophisticated, smart, pretty etc. enough for such a family. That even if they do like me, I won’t know how to fit into such a foreign world. I feel like awkward Alice, trying to play croquet with a freaking flamingo knowing all the while that if she screws up she’ll be beheaded. Except that I’m being incredibly overdramatic and I know it. So I just have to keep reminding myself that while this job would be a great opportunity, I don’t need it, persay. If this whole thing goes to pot, I still have Buddha and Bunny … and my head.

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