Why I hate my job? I will tell you why. First of all I work for an AfricanAmerican woman. She is not the first and it seems that there is something culturalthat causes these women to behave so badly. Talk about sneaky, inconsiderate,forgetful, cheap, rude, materialistic, picky and oh my God.. damn dishonest.Now I am from the Caribbean. I have been working for this woman for almost twoyears now taking care of her three year-old and her 8 year-old in my capacity as ananny. Now this bloody woman told me initially that she had just moved to Marylandfrom another state and so she asked if I could accept $340 for 45 hours worth ofwork until she got things straightened out. Now, I am not the brightest bulb inthe box but after her moving three times and me tugging behind her for almost twoyears I think she has gotten herself together. Now, don't get me wrong, I love thechildren although sometimes they tap dance so bad on my last nerve that I feellike I want to "speak in tongues". If we were back in Jamaica they would havefound the smaller one buried in the rose garden by now. She throws tantrums andwhines so badly sometimes I want to buy $340 worth of liquor. The big one is sodarn precocious that she actually counts my money when her mother leaves it on thekitchen counter and then proceeds to tell me what she wants me to buy for herbecause "mommy gave you this money."I cook, clean, iron, run errands, assist with homework, drive to activities, andanything else these people throw to me I handle. Now the other day I asked thislady to basically consider giving me a raise and after my years of loyalty she isgoing to tell me that she has been considering putting them in daycare. Now pleasekeep in mind that I am an educated person who has not only book smarts but streetsmarts. I can handle any situation and usually take the initiative. People havecommented on numerous occasions that had I not said a work that they would nothave known that I am not those children's mother.Now she tells me she is planning on going on a cruise and she may need me to watchthe kids. This is a woman who says things are so tight but goes to the clubs onFridays, massage on Saturdays and frequent trips to New York just to buy clothes.In the meantime and in between time I have to put up with these kids getting on myblasted nerve. The hours are long, I have to be using my own transportation andevery minute something goes wrong with the vehicle she doesn't even considerassisting with any repairs.The 8 year-old keeps changing at least 4 outfits each day... teeth look like BugsBunny. She talks my ears off. When it's time to do her homework she won't sitstill I have to ask her if her butt is itching. When it's dinner time she scattersfood all over the table and floor and drags it all the way to the bathroom likeshe is Gretel leaving a bread trail. She dirties the room so badly I have oftenthought of ways to get a stick of dynamite and just toss it in there on her whileshe is making a mess. She takes forever to do her homework and when she does it itlooks like she wiped her feet on it...Oh God! These kids are going to drive me tobloody drink.The three year-old can barely talk. Yes I said she can barely talk. I spend allday trying to decipher what the hell she is talking about. She whines, she messesup the whole place, she is a little diva yet she won't stop pooping on herself andshe has this obsession with other people's butt. You know what I won't even touchthat subject with a 10ft pole. Moving on. Now the husband is a prick. When I firststarted working there I noticed there was no food in the house but that in thefridge there was a six pack of Heineken. I really thought it odd. As the monthsprogressed he actually started to bring in what looks like kegs of beer. He wouldjust come in with liquor every night, pop the top, get some cigarettes, go on thebalcony for a smoke, completely ignoring everyone around and acting like we weresquatters on government land, head to his room afterwards and slam the door. If
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