Before I get into this article, I am going to reiterate what we’ve all heard a million times… Don’t trust what you find on craigslist/gumtree/online advertising.  There are, on occasion, ads when job or roommate appear too good to be true, and like my experience, were.

I was in my room in Sydney when I found the farm job. Sheep, horses, a bit of yard work, and mostly taking care of a couple of kids. Perfect. Just what I needed.

I emailed the owner of the add, not expecting a reply for a couple days, as it was 1 am Sydney time. By 3 am my tablet is chirping of a new email, and my phone buzzed at 7 with a text message. This lady, who I will refer to as J, was in desperate need of help. With a bit of conversing through text message, we arranged for a phone interview with the father, Ill call him M, and I was to video chat that night with J.

Here’s the short sweet nitty gritty of that week; J was really nice at first, before I got on the bus to go to their farm. Once on the bus, the text messages became short abrupt and had an air of aggressive authority.  This started the little alarm bells in my head. I figured it was just travelers fatigue and I would asses everything at face value, when I was there face-to-face.

My bus came in late, so my first few moments with the family were just before bed, and I would start the next morning. But N, the other nanny and my saving grace through that week, had shown me to my room, and started giving me tips to how to be comfortable there.

The next morning I found out that the race horses they breed are not at that farm, but at a different farm 2 hours away. Ok. I can live with that.  But when I had asked about internet I received the reply that yes, she did say there was internet in the interview, but she doesn’t let the nannies use it. (As we were so far away from a city, my phone was on roaming and I burned through my prepaid plan sending the occasional email.) I figure its good to get away from my dependence on technology and as I was to work from sun up- to sun down, I would be a bit busy for it anyways. So I go in search of breakfast.

Simply asking where the toaster was led to a three man hunt through the kitchen. M, N and I search through the cupboards and shelves for the toaster. J, who had been in a mood all morning, rushes past stating, authoritatively, ‘Three people to look for a toaster. That is unacceptable!’ I brushed it off as a joke as M and N smirk at each other.

By the afternoon I realized she wasn’t joking, that in fact, she ran a ‘tight ship’ but would keep forgetting to give me schedule.  By the end of the day, I was exhausted from looking after the boys who, according to J, were only acting up because I was new to the house. By that evening, the boys had ganged up on the other nanny, and the older boy became violent, calling slurs and punching however he could in a not-playful way. Upon J’s assessment of the situation, she says in a calmly, nearly everyday tone, ‘alright boys, you’ve had enough down here, lets go upstairs for a bath.’ The alarm belles turned to sirens.

Over the week it progressed to fending off accusations from J, and meeting the previous nannies that had taken refuge at the neighbors house.  The next night, N and I had made a pact that if one of us leave, the other would follow shortly after, since the other became the sounding board for events we otherwise wouldn’t have stood for.  Most of the time, J separated herself from the rest of the family by way of locking herself in her office.

On the day I would finish my first week, N and I were told by M that it would be our day off and that we could sleep in, since the afternoon would consist of going into Melbourne for the races, which one of their horses were running.

When I had gone upstairs, J had cornered me in the kitchen and had asked why I was late helping get the boys ready. I told her, with it being the weekend and having the day off I assumed we could sleep in. Fire blazed in her eyes as she roared ‘ we do NOT assume here. I never said you could have the day off.” I was stunned, staring disbelieving at her, that the 6 day week that we were promised was also a lie. M, being just in the next room swooped in, and came to my defense, “I’m the one who said it”.  At that she turned on M, and in front of the two boys started yelling how M always sided with the nannies, and never supports or defends her.  His face looked like she had slapped him. “I do. I am simply telling you what I told them.” With a brief scold to each of us, she asks ‘you wouldn’t be leaving for the races until 10, did you expect me to HAVE to spend that time with the boys? It doesn’t make sense.” My only thought was, what mother wouldn’t want to spend a couple hours with her own children.

I clean when I get flustered. I find things to keep my mind occupied, and after having just finished washing the dishes, I figured that I would go ahead and dry them as something to continue this. From behind me, J grabs the towel from my hands, replacing it with an exercise sheet for the boys, who had been sent out to their trampoline.  She leaned in, her nose inches from mine, and spat “We. Do. NOT. Dry. Dishes.”

I stepped back throwing up my hands in surrender, ‘Okay, okay.’

Then she switched to a matter-of-fact tone ‘We have had nannies here that have fit like a glove.  If you cannot respect our rules then we can get someone else. We had plenty of applicants, if you don’t fit here then we can get one of them.’

Then I heard N, with her soft patient voice suggest ‘maybe she didn’t know.’ And the fire was back in J’s eyes.

“You,” she sneered, pointing at N’s nose, “are on the next bus back to Melbourne.”

“I was just – “

“You and I don’t fit. You don’t fit. You’re gone.” She groaned it as though she were disciplining a child who had lied or stolen.

“[J], why are you talking to me like a child? I’m just trying to have a conversation.”

“You. Are. Gone. You’re only here to plant the trees. Whic-”

“That wasn’t the job I applied for.” N, still calm, replied.

“Because you cant handle the boys. One little thing happens and you lock yourself in your room.“ referring to when the boys attacked her.

Now, here’s a bit of back story…  N, who is British, beautiful and poised, has many more qualifications than I for Nanning. More experience, more knowledge, and a better handle on the boys. In the week of having the boys kicking me, and not listen, (with the simple reply from J ‘they just aren’t used to you yet’), N was my rock, my support who was able to tell the boys to listen to me.

J had shoved N’s sholder amongst her yelling and at that moment I knew that I wasn’t going to stay.

“Pack your bags. YOU. ARE. GONE!”

I was a spectator with M, standing, stunned, in the living room as the scene unfolded before us. As if disconnected from reality. Watching a theater performance that was beyond reality. I was on autopilot, swiveled my head to face M, and with the realization of the situation choking my voice into a whisper, the words came out, “I cant stay either.”

“No,” he shook his head in defeat, “You cant.” He looked up at J for a moment, her arms flailing now as she yelled at a still collected N. “…I understand.”

N and I made our way to Melbourne, and spent a few days together traveling through the city.

N, (You know who you are,) I want to thank you for everything. For listening, for the cups of tea when I about pulled my hair out, and the amazing time in Melbourne when we were getting our footing again.

My advice; be warned about people desperate for workers, there may be a reason they cant hold onto them. Ask questions, and be wary when your driving their children around, but never ask to see your license or passport.