I clear my throat and try to keep my vocal cords from shaking, because that would be mortifying. “I apologize. It won’t happen again.”
He continues to regard me over the rim of his glasses, then gestures to the seat adjacent to him. “Sit.”
I rush over and lower myself into said chair.
He swivels his chair ever so slightly in my direction, whips out a clipboard, crosses his legs, and adjusts his blazer. As he does, I get a whiff of his cologne. I can’t keep my eyes from fluttering at the manly cocktail of wood and musk.
Is my mouth actuallywatering?
“Seeing as you’ve wasted quite enough of my time I’ll jump right into the questions that I really need answered.”
This might actually have been a blessing in disguise. If I have to answer the question, ‘So, tell me a little bit about yourself’ one more time I just might stick my finger in an outlet.
“How old are you?”
I’m not sure he is allowed by law to ask that question, but I answer anyway.
“I’m 22.”
“That’s quite young,” he says. It’s a statement, but he makes it sound a little like a question.
I don’t know what to say.
So I offer, “Yeah.”
“What I mean is that most people your age would rather a more glamorous career path. Why do you want to be a nanny?”
I clear my throat in preparation of telling the first of many lies I plan to tell here today.
“The answer is simple. I love children.”
I smile, just like I practiced.
He raises an eyebrow. “That’s vague. Care to elaborate?”
“Well…” My eyes cut up and to the right. “Everyone has a predisposition for something. Some can sing and others can dance. I have a way with children. I just understand them, and they understand me.”
“Mhmm…and from your résumé I can see you do not have any traditional childcare training. So do you actually know what you’re doing?”
I blink.
“Yes, it’s true that I didn’t go to school to learn how to take care of children, but I know a lot more than so many other nannies who have. I have been babysitting pretty regularly since I was 14. Then I got my first nanny gig at 18. I was with the Caesars for a year. After that, I was with the Roberts for three, where I helped them with their twins. So, I may not have the traditional training, but I have the experience. Some would say that is more valuable than anything I could’ve learned in a classroom.”
“That’s all good and fine, but there are practical considerations to worry about. What if Ethan, that’s my son’s name, swallows a bottle cap? Will you be able to handle that?”
“Of course, I have first aid training.” This is actually the truth. “And a significant portion of the training had to do with child safety.”
“All right… Can I ask why you left both of your previous families?”
“I left when they no longer needed me. With the Caesars, the mother was adamant about being a stay at home mom. She just needed some help getting on her feet. When she had everything under control and they no longer needed me, they let me go. Then with the Robertses, I was with the twins until they went to elementary school.”
“Do you have a boyfriend?”
My neck snaps back and I blink a couple times at his brusque non sequitur. “Excuse me?”
“Do you have a boyfriend?” He asks a little slower, as if I’m stupid.
“I heard you the first time.”