The mention of two weeks ‘ notice and how the boss reacted in this story reminds me of when I gave notice for the job I had before my current one.
I had been working as a nanny for a family with four children aged seven to twelve, the older two of whom lived in the house half the time and spent the other half with their mom’s family (divorce and remarriage). I was to show up just after the parents left for work at six in the morning and get the children up and ready for school, and drop them off at the different schools they attended.
There was tension from the start, as the mother introduced me to the younger two boys as “Replacement Grandma.” Setting aside that I was about thirty at the time, she meant replacement for the grandmother who used to help with childcare duties and had died the month before.
I only saw the parents twice: during the initial interview and then during my “training”/orientation (here’s where breakfast foods are, etc). After that, everything was communicated by email. The younger two kids didn’t like that I treated their stepsiblings like human beings and took that out on me.
It was pretty clear after a couple of months that this wasn’t working out. The younger siblings didn’t like me because I would step in to stop them from bullying their stepsiblings, the parents would email me, not-quite-accusing me of stealing baking supplies (“maybe you took the flour home…”), the expectations were inconsistent, and so on. My husband pointed out that we didn’t need the money to the point of putting up with all this, so I emailed my two weeks’ notice.
The mom’s attitude did a sudden 180, proclaiming that, sure, it may have been a little rough starting out, but things were fine! It was all working out so well! Surely, I wouldn’t want to leave! Because now she was faced with the reality of not having The Help around and having to explain to her job why she couldn’t keep her schedule.
I replied with a firm no, stating that from my prior experience as a nanny, I was simply not a good match for their family. Two weeks, which gave them the school’s winter break to look for someone else, and that was all I could commit to.
She replied with a sullen email calling out various perceived injustices, including that it was unprofessional not to give any notice before quitting. It was reminiscent of a man, having been turned down by a woman, negging her to try to change her mind.
Nope, two weeks. That is your notice. I included that her attitude, coupled with the way the family acted around me, made this an easy decision.
She then sent a missive disparaging everything she could think of and how she felt sorry for my husband having to live with me, and how she hated me, her husband hated me, her kids hated me, her pets hated me; it was honestly hilarious. I forwarded the email to my friends and a couple of families I’d previously nannied for; it was so absurd.
We all got a good laugh out of it, and shortly after I landed the job, I’ve been in for the past eight years now. If I have crossed paths with any of the family, I haven’t noticed; I’m not great with faces in the first place, and the only time they occupy my thoughts is when a story pops up that reminds me of them, and I laugh about it all over again.
