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

ane’s employers plan a luxurious holiday away, tagging her along to look after their children. While they promised that they would take care of all the expenses, it is only when they return home that they demand that Jane play her part and pay for her plane tickets. But Jane won’t give up that easily.

“Jane, can you come into the living room?” Mrs. Smith called out, her teaspoon clinking as she stirred sugar into the cup of tea Melanie, the helper, had just given her.

I was tidying up the playroom.

“Now, please,” she added.

Her tone was sweet, but something felt off. I walked into the living room, trying to keep my nerves at bay.

“Sure, Mrs. Smith. What’s up?” I replied, wiping the disinfectant onto my jeans.

She was sitting on the couch, perfectly poised as always. Not even a strand of hair out of place. Mr. Smith was seated beside her, his phone in his hand. He gave me a tight smile.

“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?

Little Boy Brings Food To Beggar & His Dog Daily, One Day Boy Sees Dog Barking On His Doorstep – Story Of The Day

A policeman’s son befriends a homeless man and his dog and brings them food every day. Then the dog appears unexpectedly and alerts him to an injustice.At twelve, Brian Devlin was small for his age, and not very athletic. His father, Gary, didn’t really understand his shy, bookish son. His son was nothing like him…
He had been a tall, strapping, boisterous boy, always up to his ears in mischief. Gary tried to build his son’s self-confidence, but the harder he tried, the more Brian seemed to pull away.

Brian was smart, that Gary couldn’t deny, and he had a scholarship at a prestigious private college on the other side of town. The boy was scared of taking a bus, but since the school was close to his work, Gary picked him up every afternoon.
Gary was a desk Sargeant at the local precinct, and by the time his work ended at 5:00 p.m., the school day was long over. In the winter, Brian waited in the library and did his homework. But in the summer, he sat on the school steps and waited for his dad, soaking up the sunshine.

One afternoon, when Gary arrived, Brian wasn’t on the steps. He was outside the school gates Petting a dog. Brian looked up at his dad with a happy grin.
Don’t make assumptions about people before you know who they are.
“Look, Dad,” he cried, then he said to the dog, “Dance!”

The dog hopped up onto its back legs and did a little jig, front paws up in the air and its tongue lolling out happily.

“Isn’t that so cool?” the boy asked.

“Yes,” Gary said, surprised by the enthusiasm Brian was showing. “Whose dog is that?”

“It’s Carl’s,” Brain said, and pointed at a man sitting on the pavement and leaning back against the school fence. The man was in his forties and he was clearly homeless.

A ragged bundle of blankets lay on the ground next to him, and he was unshaven. The dog, however, was well cared for. It was a Golden Retriever, and its fur was groomed and gleaming.

The man shrank back when Gary looked at him, so he said to his son, “Come on, now, it’s time to go.”

On the way home, Gary said, “Listen, Brian, I want you to stay away from that man and his dog, OK?”

“Carl’s OK and I love Goblin!” Brian protested.

“Goblin?” Gary asked. “Is that the dog’s name? Well, I’m sure Goblins’ a good dog, but I don’t want you befriending vagrants, Brian. Do you understand?”
“But dad…” Brian protested.

“Not another word,” Gary snapped.

The next day, when Gary came to fetch Brian, the boy was studiously sitting on the steps reading a book, but that night, his wife co

mplained that half a roast chicken was missing.

“I don’t understand!” she cried. “I set it aside to make sandwiches for Brian’s lunch and now it’s gone!”

Gary looked over at Brian and the boy looked so innocent that he was immediately suspicious. Was Brian taking food to school for that vagrant and his dog?

Gary started keeping an eye on the pantry and noticed that tins of sausages kept vanishing. He now knew that his son was stealing so he could feed the dog and the homeless man every day. Gary felt a pang.

His son, who had such difficulty making human friends, had bonded with the dog. It was a pity it belonged to a vagrant, a man who might be dangerous.

Two days later, Gary got off work early and when he arrived at the school, he caught Brian outside the gates. He had a bag in his hand and he was saying: “Hey guys, I have your favorite spaghetti, Carl. And for you boy, your favorite sausages!”
“BRIAN!” he thundered. “What are you doing?”

The boy looked up at him, and for the first time, Gary saw fear in his son’s eyes. Immediately he felt a surge of anger

It was this derelict’s fault that his son was afraid of him! He stepped forward and clenched his fists. “Get away from that man,” Gary shouted. “Get into the car!”

That night, Gary and his wife sat down and talked to Brian about the dangers of befriending strange men. Brian shrugged it off. “Dad, I know about stranger danger and bad touching. Carl is NOT like that, he’s nice. You can tell he’s a good person because Goblin loves him so much, and Goblin’s the BEST, smartest dog.”

“Brian,” Gary said quietly. “I’m sure Goblin’s a great dog, but you know what? Hitler had a great dog and he loved him, and I’m sure the dog loved him back. A good dog does NOT make this vagrant a good person. Please stay away from him, Brian!”
“NO!” shouted Brian, and he pushed back his chair. “Carl is my friend and I love Goblin! Why do you always have to spoil everything? I HATE YOU!”
That night, Gary made a decision. He was going to solve this problem his own way…

That Saturday, Brian woke up early to the sound of anxious barking. He thought sleepily, “That sounds just like Goblin!”

Brain jumped out of bed and looked out of his window. It WAS Goblin, and he was standing on the porch barking anxiously and looking very unhappy.

“Goblin!” Brian cried as he opened the door, and immediately the dog ran to him. Goblin put his head in Brian’s lap and started whining. “What’s wrong, boy? Where’s Carl?”

But the dog just whined and shivered so Brian decided to do something he’d always been afraid to do before — go to his dad’s work and ask for his help.

Gary was stunned when he saw Brian at the precinct with the dog by his side. “Brian!” he gasped. “What are you doing here? How did you get here?”

“Dad!” he cried. “I think something bad happened to Carl. Goblin came looking for me and he’s very scared…” But Goblin wasn’t looking scared, he was looking up at Brian’s dad and growling.

Brian had never heard Goblin growl before. “Dad!” he asked. “What have you done?”

Gary flushed. “Carl was loitering near a school and he was warned off twice, so we arrested him!”

“But dad!” Brain cried. “He did nothing wrong! He’s not well, he needs help…You don’t know anything about him! He’s a veteran and he was in the bomb squad and he worked with sniffer dogs to find explosives. That’s why Goblin’s so well trained. He’s a good man and you arrested him because he’s sick!”

“He’s not SICK!” Gary cried angrily. “He’s a bum!”

Brian had tears in his eyes. “No, dad,” he said softly. “He doesn’t drink or anything, and most of the time he talks to people who aren’t there. He needs help.”
Gary was ashamed of himself, mostly because he couldn’t admit that there was a part of him that was jealous of Carl and his easy friendship with his son.

He did some investigating and discovered that Carl had a sister in a neighboring state who had been looking for him for years. He contacted Carl’s sister and she was overjoyed.

She took Carl home and enrolled him in an outpatient mental health clinic immediately. Goblin went too, of course. Brian missed Carl, but mostly he missed Goblin.

Then one day his dad came home with a big grin on his face and a strange lump under his jacket. He lifted out a wriggling puppy and presented it to Brian. “There you go,” he said. “You have to name him!”

Brian started crying, he was so happy. “Goblin,” he gasped. “His name is Goblin Two!”

What can we learn from this story?

Don’t make assumptions about people before you know who they are. Gary assumed Carl was a drunk and a danger before he knew anything about him.
Kindness and compassion are the greatest of virtues. Brian’s empathy led him to befriend Carl, and he helped him find his way back home.