My entitled neighbor expected free babysitting for months, but the one time I needed her? Radio silence. That’s when I realized kindness has limits. So, I got a little too creative and drew the line with a twist she never saw coming.
Motherhood is a beautiful journey, filled with ups and downs, laughter and tears. But what happens when someone sees your maternal instincts as an opportunity to exploit? When they assume that just because you’re a stay-at-home mom, you’re available 24/7 to be their personal, unpaid nanny? Hi there, I’m Annie, and boy, do I have a story for you…
Picture this: a quaint suburban neighborhood where tranquility reigns supreme. You know the kind? Pristine lawns, friendly waves from passing cars, and block parties that wrap up by 9 p.m. sharp.
That was my slice of paradise, quiet and drama-free. Until Hurricane Megan blew in next door.
From day one, Megan strutted around like she owned the place. Head held high, designer purse swinging, she was the walking definition of “extra.”
Don’t get me wrong. I’ve got nothing but respect for single moms. It’s a tough gig. But Megan? She wore her single mom status like a badge that entitled her to everyone’s time and energy. Especially mine.
Apparently, I was Megan’s personal target for FREE childcare.
“Hi there! I’m Megan,” she chirped, flashing a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “And this is my daughter, Lily.”
I bounced my son Tommy perched on my shoulder. “Nice to meet you! I’m Annie, and this little guy is Tommy.”
Megan’s eyes lit up. “Oh, you’re home during the day? That’s fantastic! I’ve been looking for someone reliable to watch Lily. My work schedule is just crazy, you know!”
I felt a twinge of unease but pushed it aside. “Well, I’m usually pretty busy with Tommy, but if you need help in an emergency, I can try.”
Megan’s smile widened. “That’s so sweet of you! I’m sure we’ll be great friends.”
As she left little Lily with me and walked away, I turned to Tommy. “Well, buddy, looks like we’ve got new neighbors. What do you think?”
Tommy gurgled and reached for my hair. If only I’d known what I was getting myself into.
Weeks rolled by and I was at my wit’s end. Megan’s “emergencies” had become a near-daily occurrence.
Despite my growing unease, I brushed it off. We moms gotta stick together, right? But one favor turned into two, then ten, and then I lost count.
The doorbell rang, and I groaned. “Tommy, want to bet who that is?”
I opened the door to find Megan, perfectly coiffed, with Lily in tow. “Annie, you’re a lifesaver! I’ve got this important meeting. You can watch Lily, right?”
I hesitated. “Megan, I’ve got a lot on my plate today and I can’t—”
“It’ll just be a few hours,” she interrupted, already ushering Lily inside. “You’re the best!”
Before I could protest, she was gone, leaving me with two kids and a growing sense of frustration.
Lily looked up at me with big eyes, holding a drawing of red and pink hearts. “Can we play dress-up, Annie?”
I sighed, forcing a smile. “Sure, sweetie. Let’s go find some costumes.”
As I watched the kids play, I couldn’t help but wonder how long I could keep this up.
Picture this: You’re knee-deep in diapers and alphabet songs, cherishing every moment with your little one. Then your neighbor knocks on the door again, flashing a smile and making the same monotonous request.
“Oh, Annie, would you be a sweetheart and babysit Lily for a few hours? I’m sure you wouldn’t mind watching her while I get my nails done.”
Spa days, shopping sprees, hair appointments… you name it, I was babysitting through it all. FOR FREE.
Now, don’t get me wrong. I love kids. But there’s a fine line between being neighborly and being a doormat. And folks, I was starting to feel like I had “Welcome” printed on my forehead.
The last straw came on a Tuesday. I was in the middle of a virtual doctor’s appointment when Megan burst in, Lily trailing behind her.
“Annie, emergency! I’ve got to run to the salon. Watch Lily, okay?”
I gaped at her, my doctor’s voice still coming through my earbuds. “Megan, I’m in the middle of—”
“Thanks, you’re a doll!” And just like that, she was gone.
I turned back to my screen, where my doctor looked confused. “Everything okay, Annie?”
I laughed humorlessly. “Just peachy. Now, where were we?”
That night, I vented to my husband, Dan. “I can’t believe her! She just assumes I’m always available.”
Dan frowned. “Honey, you need to set some boundaries. This isn’t fair to you or Tommy.”
“You’re right. Next time she asks, I’m putting my foot down.”
Little did I know, my chance would come sooner than expected.
The following week, Dan and I had a doctor’s appointment. I figured it was the perfect opportunity to ask Megan for a favor.
I knocked on her door, my hopes soaring. Megan answered, looking annoyed at the interruption.
“Hey, Megan. I hate to ask, but Dan and I have a doctor’s appointment. Could you watch Tommy for an hour? I’d really appreciate it.”
Megan’s face twisted. “Oh, Annie. I’m really not comfortable watching other people’s kids. It’s just… stressful, you know? And I need my ‘me time.’ You understand, right?”
I stood there, STUNNED. After everything I’d done for her, she couldn’t spare ONE HOUR?
“Sure! I understand completely.”
As I walked away, something inside me snapped. It was time for a little creative problem-solving.
My opportunity came a few days later when Megan knocked on my door, Lily in tow.
“Annie, I’ve got a hair appointment. You can watch Lily, right?”
I smiled sweetly. “Actually, Megan, I’m glad you’re here. I’ve been meaning to tell you about my new babysitting business.”
Her eyes lit up. “Babysitting business?”
“Yep! I figured since I’m home anyway, why not make some extra money? And since we’re neighbors, I’d be happy to give you a discounted rate.”
Megan leaned in, intrigued. “That’s amazing! How much?”
“Well, normally I’d charge $20 an hour, but for you, let’s say $15.”
Her jaw dropped. “Fifteen dollars an hour? That’s insane! I can’t afford that!”
I shrugged, feigning sympathy. “I know, childcare is so expensive these days. That’s why it’s important to find people willing to help out. Don’t you think?”
Megan’s face reddened. “I’ll figure something out.”
As she stormed off, I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of satisfaction. The tables had finally turned.
Over the next few weeks, I fully embraced my role as a “professional” babysitter. Every time Megan asked for a favor, I responded with mock invoices and rate sheets.
One afternoon, she came to pick up Lily ten minutes late. I greeted her with a smile and a piece of paper.
“Here’s your invoice, Megan. Don’t forget the late pick-up fee!”
She snatched the paper, her face contorting with rage. “This is ridiculous! You’re nothing but a greedy witch!”
I raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”
“You have no right to charge me after all the times I’ve done favors for you!”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “FAVORS? Like the time I asked you to watch Tommy for one hour and you said you weren’t comfortable watching other people’s kids?”
“That’s… that’s different! I’m a single mom. I’m busy!”
“And I’m a stay-at-home mom running a business,” I countered. “We’re all busy, Megan.”
She grabbed Lily’s hand and stormed off, leaving me feeling both guilty and oddly empowered.
Word of my “babysitting business” spread quickly through the neighborhood. I hadn’t planned on it, but soon other moms came to me with their Megan stories.
Chelsea, another neighbor, caught me at the mailbox. “Annie, you’re a genius! I started charging Megan too, and suddenly she stopped asking me to watch Lily.”
I laughed. “Really? I thought I was the only one.”
Chelsea shook her head. “Oh no, she’s been trying this with everyone. But now? She can’t find anyone to help her for free anymore.”
As we chatted, I saw Megan pull into her driveway. She glared at us before slamming her car door and stomping inside.
I turned to Chelsea. “I almost feel bad.”
“Don’t! She needed to learn she can’t take advantage of people.”
I nodded, watching Megan’s house. “I guess you’re right.”
Weeks passed, and I hardly saw Megan anymore. The constant knocking had stopped, and an eerie quiet settled over our little corner of the neighborhood.
One evening, as I was watering my front garden, I saw her struggling with groceries. For a moment, I considered offering help. Then I remembered all the times she’d left me in the lurch.
“Some people need to carry the heavy weight of their actions!” I muttered and turned around, ignoring her.
Megan soon found herself in a bind. Every time she asked for help babysitting, she was met with either a rate card or a “Sorry, I’m just too busy!”
Frustrated, she realized she couldn’t rely on “FREE” favors anymore and had to pay for a professional sitter.
So, there you have it, folks. Was it petty? Perhaps a bit. Was it satisfying? Absolutely! But sometimes, the best revenge is learning to communicate effectively and set healthy boundaries. Have you ever dealt with an entitled neighbor? How did you handle the situation? Share your stories in the comments!
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?
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