Let's start at the very beginning... (oh wait, that's the wrong Julie Andrews movie...) ;)

For my first post focusing on my actual experiences working as a nanny, it only seems logical to tell the tale of how I found myself applying for such a position in the first place.

In all honesty, I took the job out of desperation. I was around 20 years old at the time, and had recently moved in with my boyfriend. Things were tense between he and I, and a large part of that tension was due to the fact I had yet to find suitable employment in my new city. Bills were past due, debt collectors were calling me incessantly, and overall I was miserable. I was depressed. Moving in with said-boyfriend was not turning into the fairy-tale game of “house” that I had thought it would be. I was half-heartedly looking for a job, but I didn’t want to work in retail again, as I had just left such a position in my old town and did not wish to return to another job full of mind-numbing drudgery and humiliation. (By humiliation, I mean the volunteering of myself to be the recipient of insults and screaming when certain customers didn’t receive the extra 10% off the merchandise they felt they were entitled to, but hey, that is a blog all it’s own.) We were living in a college town, and it seemed like the pickings were slim when it came to non-retail jobs. I needed a job, and I needed it NOW.

One morning I was frantically scanning the classifieds section of the newspaper when I came across the Childcare listings. The ad my eyes fell upon went something like this: PROFESSOINAL FAMILY IS SEEKING TO EMPLOY A NANNY. WOULD BE RESPONSIBLE FOR 2 CHILDREN 40+ HOURS/WEEK. MUST HAVE VALID DRIVERS LISENCE. PLEASE RESPOND TO 555-0000, ASK FOR MISSY. All of a sudden, I was filled with hope. Be a nanny? I could do that! I had been babysitting since I was 12, had never had anyone complain about my services, in fact, I was always praised for my reliability and creativeness. Surely I could handle doing it as a full-time job! The more I thought it over, the more excited I got. This seemed to be the answer to my prayers! I called my boyfriend at work, giddy with anticipation. He told me to get off the phone and call the number, as I had mentioned the cut-off date to apply was today. I did as I was told, and dialed.

As per the ad‘s instructions, I asked to speak with Missy, assuming this would be the mother. It turns out, I was wrong. Missy was actually the family’s housekeeper, and by “housekeeper” I don’t mean a woman who came in once a week to do scrub the floors and toilets. By “housekeeper“, I mean a full-time employee who spent 40+ hours a week running the household. She cleaned, did the laundry, did the grocery shopping, had a home cooked meal waiting for the parents on the table when they got home, etc. But, I am getting ahead of myself here… Missy informed me that in order to apply, I would need to fax a copy of my resumé and a cover letter to the house. I assured her I would, said my goodbyes, and hung up. Then the realization that I did not currently have an up-to-date resumé , nor a fax machine, hit me.

I frantically typed up my resumé , trying to make myself sound as qualified as possible without actually lying in the document, and moved on to the no-fax-machine situation. I remembered that a friend of ours who lived in the apartment complex worked in the computer field, so I headed over there to see if they had one I could use. Luckily they did, and the friend’s wife (whom I had actually never met face to face at that point) was nice enough to let me use it. Phew! I could sit back, relax, and wait. Or really, just wait, because I found that the tension involved with waiting to hear back from the family about an interview was anything but relaxing…