Demanding Parents Expect Nanny to Pay $1000 for Vacation Flights – Their Harsh Reality Check

“Jane, we need to talk about the vacation.”

I nodded, curious.

We had been home for two days now. Back from our trip to the seaside, staying in a luxurious resort. It was almost the break I needed, minus the fact that I had the Smiths’ three children, and their friends, the Johnsons’ two sons to care for as well.

I was just doing my job in a fancier location.

“Of course,” I said. “It was a lovely trip. Thank you again for inviting me.”

“Yes, well,” Mrs. Smith started. “We need to discuss the plane tickets. When will you be able to return the $1000?”

I blinked. I was sure that I had misheard her.

“Sorry, $1000? For the tickets? What?”

“Yes, for the tickets, Jane,” she spoke slowly as if I was stupid. “We spent a lot on them, and we thought you’d be grateful enough to pay us back.”

My heart raced. I didn’t have that kind of money to spare. I was their full-time nanny, with a mother to care for at home.

“But you told me that everything was sorted. You said, ‘Don’t worry about it, Jane. We’ve got it all covered.’”

Mrs. Smith’s expression hardened. Mr. Smith gazed at me.

“That was before the Johnsons refused to sign a business deal with Craig. That was the entire purpose of the holiday. Mr. Smith and I needed to woo them. So, there’s no need to seem generous now, Jane. You have exactly one week to return the money, or it will be taken from your pay.”

I was stunned. The room felt like it was spinning.

“But… I can’t afford that, Mrs. Smith,” I admitted. “Most of my salary goes to the rent at home and my mother’s medication. I can’t take that away from her. And you didn’t mention anything about paying you back!”

“That’s not our problem, Jane. One week,” Mr. Smith reiterated, reaching for a croissant from the tea tray left for Mrs. Smith. With a wave of his hand, he signaled the end of the discussion.

That night, I sat in my tiny room a few feet away from the Smiths’ house. I was seething. How could they do this? I needed a plan, and I needed it fast.

Then it hit me: the Smiths cared deeply about their social standing and their reputation.

“Of course, that’s all they care about,” I muttered to myself as I brushed my teeth before bed. “But I can use that to my advantage.”

The next day, after I dropped the kids off at school, I created a fake email account. I drafted a polite but detailed message about my experience, making sure to be clear without naming any names.

But there were enough telltale signs pointing to the Smiths, from their cars to the kids, to the gold facial appointments that Mrs. Smith bragged about.

Thereafter, I sent it to the key people in their social circle, including the other influential families that the Smiths wanted to be in league with.

“I just don’t understand what they want from us,” I overheard Mrs. Smith say into the phone later that day. “Eva asked me if everything is true, but I don’t know what she’s talking about.”

A few days later, the gossip started spreading. The Smiths’ dirty little secret on how they treated “their staff” was out, and naturally, their reputation took a hit.

Mrs. Smith called in a masseuse to soothe her muscles.

“Just let them into the spa when they arrive, Jane,” she said. “I need all the help I can get.”

Later that day, when I went to pick the kids up from school, the other nannies were hanging about, waiting for the bell to ring.

“Did you read the email about the Smiths?” one of the nannies said. “Jane, are they really like that?”

I nodded.

“They’re good parents, but they’re horrible people,” I admitted, not wanting to give away that I was the person who sent out the email.

“How long will you work for them?” another asked me. “I couldn’t live or work under those circumstances. Rich people need to learn that respect for them is earned, too.”

I smiled.

The nannies went back and forth as we waited. And through their chatter, I discovered something interesting about Mrs. Smith.

Turns out that my employer had a habit of “borrowing” items from her friends and never returning them.

“An entire Gucci handbag, Jane,” Mina said. “Mrs. Smith asked my ma’am if she could borrow it for a fundraising gala two months ago.”

“That’s ridiculous!” I said, shocked. “I didn’t know that she was capable of that sort of thing. But she doesn’t like me getting too close to her things anyway.”

A few days later, Mrs. Smith held one of her ladies’ luncheons. It was a monthly event that she loved hosting, but this time it was only two weeks into the month.

“I need this to go well, Jane,” she said as I cut fruit up for the kids. “So, you need to attend it. The kids will be at school. Everything will be catered for. Just walk around and talk to the women. Make us seem human.”

I knew that she was puzzling. She must have heard more than enough through the grapevine.

During the event, I walked around as requested of me. But I wasn’t going to let this opportunity slip. And I had nothing to lose. The Smiths were probably going to fire me at the end of the week when I couldn’t make the $1000.

“We’ll deal with it, darling,” my mother coughed into the phone when I told her the truth of the matter.

At the luncheon, I walked around, casually mentioning to the ladies how much I admired Mrs. Smith’s collection, making sure that I spoke to Eva, Mina’s employer.

“Mrs. Smith has a stunning handbag similar to yours,” I said. “Gucci. Did she lend you this one? She’s always telling me that she lends her things out because she has so much.”

Eva looked at me over the top of her champagne glass.

“Is that so, Jane?” she asked, her eyes narrowing.

Whispers started circulating. By the end of the luncheon, Mrs. Smith’s reputation for borrowing without returning was the hot topic.

The next morning, her friends began asking for their things back.

Mrs. Smith was mortified.

During dinner the next night, Mr. Smith called me to the table, asking me to join them.

“Thank you, but I usually wait for Ivy and Melanie to eat,” I said politely, mentioning the chef and her helper.

“No, sit with us,” he insisted.

I obliged.

Despite his tone, I hoped that maybe he was going to tell me that the money could be forgotten. And that everything would return as normal.

“It has come to my attention that an anonymous email has gone out,” he said, cutting into his steak.

“A disgusting email,” Mrs. Smith added, taking a long sip of her wine.

“Did you have anything to do with it?” he asked me, his eyes trying to coax a confession out of me.

I shook my head, looking down at my plate.

“Then that settles it,” he said, knowingly. “You’re dismissed. You can pack up and get out tomorrow.”

I did exactly as I was told and moved back home. A week later, Mrs. Johnson called me.

“Jane, can you come over for tea?” she asked warmly.

“Of course, Mrs. Johnson,” I replied, curious about the nature of the invitation.

As we sat in her luxurious living room, she looked at me with genuine concern.

“I heard about what the Smiths did to you. It’s disgraceful.”

I nodded, trying to keep my composure.

“Well,” she continued. “We’ve decided to cut ties with the Smiths entirely. And we’d like to offer you a job. Better pay, better working conditions. We could use someone like you for our kids.”

I was stunned.

“Of course!” I exclaimed. I needed the job desperately.

“You’ve earned it,” she smiled. “The boys loved having you watch them during the holiday. And somehow, you got Jonathan to eat his peas!”

I don’t know how the Smiths reacted to me working for the Johnsons, but I hoped that they felt betrayed.

What would you have done?

НЕR НUSВАND USЕD ТО ВЕАТ НЕR FRЕQUЕNТLY, SО SНЕ ТООK НЕR СНILDRЕN АND RАN АWАY FRОM НОMЕ

They say that if life hands you lemons, make lemonade. We all know that this is easier said than done, yet nothing is truly impossible if we set our minds to something and put in a lot of effort to achieve it.

Cara Brookins ended up in a vioIent marriage. She left her husband, took her kids with her, and started over in a new house since she was a mother of five and understood she had to protect her kids from the toxic environment they were made to live in. How was it accomplished by her? by creating her own construction blueprints and viewing YouTube videos that demonstrated various building skiIIs, such as installing plumbing, running a gas line, laying a foundation, and erecting walls. It sounds amazing, doesn’t it?

Now that she’s thinking about it, she acknowledges that it has been impossible the entire time.

Cara, a computer programmer analyst, came up with the idea to build her family’s new home from the ground up because she couldn’t afford to buy a house big enough for all of her children at the time she started building it in 2007.

Cara described the feeling as being that “if anyone were in our situation, they would do this.” “I know it sounds crazy now, but no one else saw it likе this.”

She borrowed about $150,000 for construction and paid $20,000 for an acre of land.

Her children helped build their 3,500-square-foot home; the eldest was only two years old at the time and the youngest was seventeen.

Since there was no running water on the property, her 11-year-old daughter Jada had to use buckets to carry water from the neighbor’s pond. Her son Drew assisted her in creating the plans. After that, she combined it with concrete bags weighing eighty pounds to create the foundation mortar.

The children would visit the site and assist every day after school. This tenacious mother paid $25 per hour to a part-time firefighter with building experience to complete the most difficult tasks. He was “a step ahead of us in terms of knowledge,” she recalled.

The family finally moved into Inkwell Manor on March 31, 2009, which was named in honor of Cara’s aspiration to become a writer.

“We felt ashamed that the only option available to us was to construct our own shelter,” Cara remarked. “We weren’t particularly proud of it, but it ended up being the best thing I could have done for myself.”

“Anything is possible for you if I, a 110-pound computer programmer, can build a whole house,” she exclaimed.

She continued, stating, “Select one goal and stick to it. Choose a big project you’ve always wanted to do, start small, and take the others who also need to recover with you. That has a great deal of power.

This isn’t it one of the most amazing tales you’ve heard recently?

If this family’s tenacity inspires you as much as it does, please SHARE their amazing tale on Facebook with your loved ones!

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