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| sneak peak...more to come |
nanny [ˈnænɪ]
While scouring the internet for possible nannies, (I know, doesn’t seem like the safest place to start, but the only recommendation I had so far came from my daytime drunk neighbor whose 6 year old daughter told me to ‘shove-it’) I came across a website that offers background checks, a rating system, as well as hashing out all of the first interview questions like schedule and cost. After paying $30, I posted a listing and waited for women to “apply” for the grind that would be watching my son full time while Mike and I work. After sorting through 37 applications, I came out with about 10 people I was interested in meeting. There were some pretty obvious no’s – like Tiff, the 21 year old cosmetology student who “thinks she could be great with kids” and Barbara, whose activity section started with “videos” and whose picture suggested she hadn’t left her couch since Christmas 1986. “Although I see the appeal, Barb, we are going to have to agree to disagree that you and Penn splitting a pound of bacon counts as a healthy lunch. Love your gem sweater though.”
After narrowing down the candidates based on first internet impressions, I spent about a day questioning my methods. Was I dismissing perfectly good caregivers based on their creepy picture or disregard for email etiquette? I decided to give one reply a second look.
I exchanged a few emails with Beth before she would give me her address – good. She had two young boys of her own – a plus. She considers herself very active – great. We agreed to meet at 4pm on Friday and feel each other out. Did she need to call and confirm that I would be there? Nope. If I say I will be there at 4pm, barring a shark attack or severe case of random uncontrollable vomiting, I will be there at 4pm.
Friday rolled around and at 3:30, Mike, P-man and I were ready to go. Embracing the year 2010, I sent a quick text to let Beth know that we were on our way. Here’s how that went:
Me: Hi, Beth. It’s Lesley. I wanted to let you know we are on our way. See you at 4.
Beth: aww, we r nt home n u didnt call 2 confirm call me 2 nite.
Me: Sorry. I thought we were set on 4. I am making the decision tonight but I will let you know if anything changes. Thanks for your time!
Beth: k. gud luk with it.
My first thought of, “What the hell was that?” turned into my usual way of feeling guilty for not calling to confirm. What is the normal practice for appointment making in nanny-land? Is this like the salon or pediatrician where they call to remind you the day before? Was I being unprofessional? Should I give her a meeting because I screwed up? What if this is her only source of income?!
I turned to Mike and explained that we wouldn’t be meeting with Beth because I didn’t call to confirm the appointment. Mike looked a bit perplexed as I am not usually one to have hiccups in my plans. “I thought you two agreed on 4? What did she say?” I grabbed my blackberry and pulled up the string of texts. Before reading them to him I thought about this whole hiring process. I had encountered no-shows, no-calls and of course, Bacon Barbara, but this spelling of “good” was perhaps the most glaring sign of NO to date – so much that I started laughing out loud. Immediately, in combat with the thought that I may sound like a snob, and almost ready to throw my hand over my own mouth, I said to Mike, “There is no way this chick who can’t even spell “good” is going to be watching my kid.” Mike: “Our kid.” Right, right, our kid.
The egalitarian inside of me died a little that moment and while trying to stay true to my ideals that everyone should be given a chance, I contemplated Beth’s education, character and possible excuses for poor text grammar, a medium which currently offers the most leniency amongst the Caesars of language. The only response I could come up with was – not with my kid.
Have I changed? Am I lacking in the once flourishing Art Of Compassion? Or do I simply want someone to take each moment with or about my child as seriously as I do? I’m leaning towards the last but not after a severe self-beating. I must be acting completely irrational and cruel. Oh no! I am sliding to the right! I even pictured the first conversation I would have with my father after I voted Tea Party in the 2012 presidential race. He says, “I told you so.” I do have a problem with jumping the gun on worst case scenarios.
Never really having to judge or make this type of decision before, I tapped into some unwanted feelings. After giving the thumbs up or down to a person’s verbiage, punctuation and jeeze - online photo, I was a wreck. Was there any other way to do it? Mike reassured me that this woman was looking for a job and if she wanted it badly enough, she would have stepped her game up. It took me a second to get off my own back, and Mike was right. Neither of us could have sent a “gud luk” text to our current employers and expected a call back.
Feeling relieved about not having to meet another stranger – Mike and I decided to take the afternoon to spend at the park. As I walked out the door, I grabbed my phone to put in my pocket. There was a text from Ms. Staci, another woman we met with earlier in the week who was currently at the top of the list.
Staci: “Hi Lesley! I just wanted to let you know how nice it was to meet your family. I also have an update on the food program. Rather than you bringing food for your son, I am going to update the menu with organics for all the kids and more veggie options. Call me tomorrow!”
I hope Ms. Staci is as “gud” as her text suggests. Updates to come.
While scouring the internet for possible nannies, (I know, doesn’t seem like the safest place to start, but the only recommendation I had so far came from my daytime drunk neighbor whose 6 year old daughter told me to ‘shove-it’) I came across a website that offers background checks, a rating system, as well as hashing out all of the first interview questions like schedule and cost. After paying $30, I posted a listing and waited for women to “apply” for the grind that would be watching my son full time while Mike and I work. After sorting through 37 applications, I came out with about 10 people I was interested in meeting. There were some pretty obvious no’s – like Tiff, the 21 year old cosmetology student who “thinks she could be great with kids” and Barbara, whose activity section started with “videos” and whose picture suggested she hadn’t left her couch since Christmas 1986. “Although I see the appeal, Barb, we are going to have to agree to disagree that you and Penn splitting a pound of bacon counts as a healthy lunch. Love your gem sweater though.”
After narrowing down the candidates based on first internet impressions, I spent about a day questioning my methods. Was I dismissing perfectly good caregivers based on their creepy picture or disregard for email etiquette? I decided to give one reply a second look.
I exchanged a few emails with Beth before she would give me her address – good. She had two young boys of her own – a plus. She considers herself very active – great. We agreed to meet at 4pm on Friday and feel each other out. Did she need to call and confirm that I would be there? Nope. If I say I will be there at 4pm, barring a shark attack or severe case of random uncontrollable vomiting, I will be there at 4pm.
Friday rolled around and at 3:30, Mike, P-man and I were ready to go. Embracing the year 2010, I sent a quick text to let Beth know that we were on our way. Here’s how that went:
Me: Hi, Beth. It’s Lesley. I wanted to let you know we are on our way. See you at 4.
Beth: aww, we r nt home n u didnt call 2 confirm call me 2 nite.
Me: Sorry. I thought we were set on 4. I am making the decision tonight but I will let you know if anything changes. Thanks for your time!
Beth: k. gud luk with it.
My first thought of, “What the hell was that?” turned into my usual way of feeling guilty for not calling to confirm. What is the normal practice for appointment making in nanny-land? Is this like the salon or pediatrician where they call to remind you the day before? Was I being unprofessional? Should I give her a meeting because I screwed up? What if this is her only source of income?!
I turned to Mike and explained that we wouldn’t be meeting with Beth because I didn’t call to confirm the appointment. Mike looked a bit perplexed as I am not usually one to have hiccups in my plans. “I thought you two agreed on 4? What did she say?” I grabbed my blackberry and pulled up the string of texts. Before reading them to him I thought about this whole hiring process. I had encountered no-shows, no-calls and of course, Bacon Barbara, but this spelling of “good” was perhaps the most glaring sign of NO to date – so much that I started laughing out loud. Immediately, in combat with the thought that I may sound like a snob, and almost ready to throw my hand over my own mouth, I said to Mike, “There is no way this chick who can’t even spell “good” is going to be watching my kid.” Mike: “Our kid.” Right, right, our kid.
The egalitarian inside of me died a little that moment and while trying to stay true to my ideals that everyone should be given a chance, I contemplated Beth’s education, character and possible excuses for poor text grammar, a medium which currently offers the most leniency amongst the Caesars of language. The only response I could come up with was – not with my kid.
Have I changed? Am I lacking in the once flourishing Art Of Compassion? Or do I simply want someone to take each moment with or about my child as seriously as I do? I’m leaning towards the last but not after a severe self-beating. I must be acting completely irrational and cruel. Oh no! I am sliding to the right! I even pictured the first conversation I would have with my father after I voted Tea Party in the 2012 presidential race. He says, “I told you so.” I do have a problem with jumping the gun on worst case scenarios.
Never really having to judge or make this type of decision before, I tapped into some unwanted feelings. After giving the thumbs up or down to a person’s verbiage, punctuation and jeeze - online photo, I was a wreck. Was there any other way to do it? Mike reassured me that this woman was looking for a job and if she wanted it badly enough, she would have stepped her game up. It took me a second to get off my own back, and Mike was right. Neither of us could have sent a “gud luk” text to our current employers and expected a call back.
Feeling relieved about not having to meet another stranger – Mike and I decided to take the afternoon to spend at the park. As I walked out the door, I grabbed my phone to put in my pocket. There was a text from Ms. Staci, another woman we met with earlier in the week who was currently at the top of the list.
Staci: “Hi Lesley! I just wanted to let you know how nice it was to meet your family. I also have an update on the food program. Rather than you bringing food for your son, I am going to update the menu with organics for all the kids and more veggie options. Call me tomorrow!”
I hope Ms. Staci is as “gud” as her text suggests. Updates to come.
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