Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 60131 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 301(@200wpm)___ 241(@250wpm)___ 200(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60131 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 301(@200wpm)___ 241(@250wpm)___ 200(@300wpm)
Double checking my batch of cupcakes, I slipped out of the exit and into the soft summer drizzle.
As I walked to the subway station, I pretended like the wetness falling from my eyes weren’t tears; they were misguided raindrops.
Sixteen stops later, I emerged on West 23 Street and walked into The Hearst Employment Agency.
There was no receptionist or signage, so I pulled out my phone and double checked the listing to make sure I was in the right place.
*Manhattan Executive Seeking Chef for Daughter’s Weekend-Long Sweet Sixteen Party*
Must have experience in a Michelin star kitchen.
Must be comfortable working in a fast-paced environment
Bring one dozen of your best German chocolate cupcakes (unicorn style, please) for consideration.
Arrive at address below twenty minutes before your appt time.
I took the elevator and followed a pink and blue balloon trail to a ballroom with a table and two chairs.
A brunette danced near the windows, pushing a baby stroller back and forth. She reached inside and pulled out a teddy bear, kissing and babbling to it like it was a real child.
“Um, excuse me?” I cleared my throat. “Hello?”
“Hey there!” She kicked the stroller away, and it crashed into the wall. “Are you here for employment placement?”
“Yes,” I said. “I have an appointment. Harlow Hawthorne.”
“Wow, you’re early.” She motioned for me to follow her to the desk. “I’m Mrs. Locklear. Come on, have a seat.”
I obliged and sat still as she flipped through papers and hummed to herself.
“How comfortable are you with children, Miss Hawthorne?”
“Extremely comfortable,” I said. “I’ve baked plenty of custom cakes and sweets for kids’ parties. Just last week, I crafted some Paw Patrol inspired cookies and cupcakes.”
“Paw Patrol?”
“It’s a kids TV show,” I said. “The one with the dogs who protect their town with fun and crazy adventures.”
“Interesting.” She flipped a page. “Are you familiar with gluten, nut, and other common food allergies?”
“Of course. I always ask about those before baking.”
“Are you CPR certified?”
“Yes.”
“What about pediatric first aid?”
“I took a few classes in that a while ago, but—”
“Perfect!” She interrupted. “Can you tell me how you would handle a hungry, crying child?”
“Uh, I would feed it.”
“Good answer. Very good answer.” She nodded. “You’d be surprised how many people say, ‘Let the child cry until he’s not hungry anymore.”
Where is she going with this?
“What about a child who was experiencing anxiety about a parent being away?” she asked. “How would you handle that?”
“Assure them it’s temporary by saying, ‘I’m sure your mommy or daddy will come back to this party soon.’” I glanced at my phone, ensuring I hadn’t misread the age of this party as ‘six’ instead of ‘sixteen.’
“Awww, that’s sweet!” Mrs. Locklear scribbled on a notepad. “Now, let’s talk about your experience with sleep schedules and potty training.”
“Huh?”
“How did you handle setting these at your last nanny position?”
“My last what?” I shook my head. “Excuse me for being confused here, but what do sleep schedules and potty training have to do with this job listing?”
“Everything. Didn’t you read it?”
“I thought I did.” I set my cupcakes on the desk. “I also brought these for consideration.”
“Now, you’re confusing me.” She flipped a page in her clipboard. “Your name is Harlow Hawthorne, right?”
“Yes.” I nodded.
“You’re seeking full time salaried employment, correct?”
“Well, uh, the listing that brought me here actually said part time.”
“Is that a ‘yes’ or ‘no’ to wanting a full-time job?”
“It’s a yes.”
“Thank you.” She pointed to a yellow highlighted section. “So, you’re not here for ‘Manhattan CEO seeking private, live-in nanny for two young children, must be available to me at all times—off days to be discussed? Salary of three hundred and sixty-five thousand dollars a year that includes health benefits and all travel expenses?”
“No, that’s not the right one. I’m here for the—” I stopped talking. “What’s that salary again?”
“Three hundred and sixty-five thousand dollars. Plus benefits.”
“For being a nanny?”
“Yes.” She nodded. “A live-in nanny.”
My mind was blown.
As a teenager, I spent most of my summers babysitting the neighbors’ children for easy money. I baked a pizza, turned on a movie, and the kids practically watched themselves.
How hard could this ‘nanny’ thing possibly be?
“Okay, wait.” I was excited now. “By ‘live-in,’ does that mean the family pays for me to move closer, or I stay in their house? What would happen to the rent on my current apartment?”
“Save those questions when you get to part two of the interview.” She tore off a sheet of paper and handed it to me. “Here’s the address. You need to be there by three thirty sharp. The client in question is only using us for screening and HR purposes, to make sure the people we send over aren’t psychopaths.”
“Does this client have a name?”
“He’ll give it to you when you get there.”
“Okay…” I stood and picked up my cupcakes. “Do you think the client will want these or should I leave them here for the other listing just in case?”