The Pet

Just a part time gig

My first babysitting job was when I was 14 for the neighbor. The money I got from it was good enough that after a few weeks I could buy myself a brand new bike that I could show off to all of my friends. I fell in love with babysitting. Now that I'm 20, searching for colleges, babysitting had taken a backseat to my real job of waiting tables at a local bar. Though it tips well, I would rather spend my afternoons building puzzles or playing tag like I use to. The tips I get wont be enough to carry me through college, and the late nights will be the death of me.

Today I had an interview for a new family for a part time position. A small family with two daughters. Nervous as always, I stepped in front of my bathroom mirror, pinned a few pieces of hair back, and gave myself the same pep-talk as always. "They're kids in need of a good babysitter, with a healthy routine. This is a family who really wants your help to succeed! You're doing great things and you're going to make a great impression!" Ready to go, I walked to my room, grabbed my purse, a binder with lists of families I've babysat for in the past, and my jacket. As I walked past the kitchen I snagged an apple on my way out of the door. Stepping into the hallway of my apartment building, I patted my pockets. "Keys, phone, and chapstick. Good to go!"

Blasting a spotify playlist on my way, I go over the lines that I plan on saying. I clear my throat, give myself a quick side eye glance in the rear view mirror, and announce: "Hello Mr.Morgan, I am here for the part-time babysitting job. My name is Taylor Samson, heres my references, along with written letters from the parents of the previous families on my performance, and services." Shaking my head slightly, giving myself another side eye glance, this time with a look of disappointment. "I cant come off too strong" the voice in my head echoes. "Hello! I'm Taylor, we spoke on the phone about a babysitting position available. I'm here for my interview." Sputtering out the last words, I grumble lowly to myself.

"Turn left onto First Avenue in 400 feet." My gps alerts me cutting off my thoughts. I follow her instructions, slowing down a little, looking around at my new surroundings. "Wow nice houses." I thought to myself.

"Your destination is on the left." My gps alerts again. As I slowly creep into the driveway of a decently sized off-white house the start up butterflies in my stomach. This house was gorgeous.

I pull down my visor, flip open the mirror, and adjust any hairs that may have fallen out of place. Maintaining a tightly coiled, yet very professional bun is hard when your naturally wavy hair wants nothing more than to misbehave all the time. I wipe a little mascara smudge from under my eye, take a deep breath in, and grab my binder. Slamming the visor closed I clamber out of the car and head up the driveway to the door. Hearing the clacking of my shoe laces that seem to have come undone at some point in my journey, I reach the front stoop, and kneel down to re-tie my laces. Feeling a piece of hair fall from behind my ear, I sigh softly, grabbing my binder from the ground. As I stand up, I dust my knee off. My eyes climb the frame of the glass door, and my face heats up as I notice two bright faced, blonde girls with their noses pressed to the glass. One with glasses, one without, both very adorable. Walking up behind them must be their father. I quickly tuck the stray piece of hair behind my ear, clear my throat, and smile.

As the man opens the door, I reach my free hand out. "Hi! My name is Taylor. I'm here about the babysitting job!" I blurt out.

He takes my hand, giving a firm shake. "Ah, Ms. Taylor, you're right on time! I'm John, and these are my daughters Lacey, and Jane." He smiled to me warmly.

"Lacey, and Jane." I repeat to myself. "What perfect names. It's nice to meet you girls." I say but seem to be unheard as they toddle off further into the house, giggling the whole way.

John holds open the door, offering for me to join them inside. With my head held high, I step inside, and am immediately taken aback in awe of how stunning the interior of the house is. Hearing the door click closed behind me, John steps around, beckoning me to follow him into the livingroom, which is just as lovely as the entry way. Almost picturesque with vaulted ceilings, and large paintings on the walls, its clear this house wasn't purchased with children in mind. Looking behind me to the entry way, I catch myself in disbelief that this job position is even on the table.