When choosing the title of this intriguing incident, Mumma suggested I put "young
attractive au pair" but I didn't want to seem conceited...
As you may have guessed, I am that unfortunate, or perhaps fortunate, young au pair who was fired. I'm 18 and a half and can already say that I've been fired from a job! What an achievement at such a young age.
I have already made a post about some of my time au pairing which you can find if you follow this link. However, to summarise, I had been employed by a French couple to teach their eldest son English and to babysit him and his two younger brothers for around 3 hours per day. This included a couple of evenings when the parents went out.
When I heard of this opportunity, I jumped at it. It sounded like the perfect work experience I needed. I am currently an undergraduate studying French and therefore welcomed all the practice I could get, and living with a host family would seem a perfect opportunity to truly immerse myself into French culture. I had also previously tutored a French girl to speak English, and had a lot of experience looking after children. My aunt, who told me about the job, also informed me that they were a very nice Jewish family and assured me that I would have a lovely time.
I was soon in contact with Madame* and emailed her about the job. They planned to go from their home near Paris, down to St. Raphaël, and then back up to Paris. I was to accompany them all the way. The verbal agreement was to start from the beginning of August until September (ideally until the end of September to then take the children to and from school). Both parties agreed on the matter, and the sum of 500€ was settled for the month's work.
A few weeks passed and my parents were able to finalise their own holiday plans. The idea was to drive me to Paris, drop me off at the family's house, and then for them to drive down to our place near Perpignan. Due to travel costs, it was more convenient if I were to start my job a week earlier. I requested an earlier start, and Madame welcomed this as the elder son was returning from summer camp at the same time.
On the Tuesday night, my parents and I arrived in Paris and a couple of hours later we went to my host's home for aperitifs. We were greeted very warmly by the parents. Monsieur was a stocky man in his mid-40s with a bald head and little round rimless glasses which sat high up on his nose. He had a loud, contagious laugh and was a very attentive host. Madame was very petite and delicate with a thin smile which never really stretched to her eyes. That first night, we all sat out on the terrace and talked about the matters of the world. The language we spoke was on the whole Franglais. Madame was a keen English speaker but occasionally forgot one or two words, and vice versa with my parents (although for them they knew one or two words and forgot a lot of French!). Madame also promised my parents how she would give me a tour of Paris before leaving to go to St. Raphaël. A quick tour of the Louvre, or perhaps a ride at Disneyland? It all sounded amazing. We seem to get along very well together and Madame suggested I slept round immediately, however I declined her kind offer as I wanted to spend one last night with my parents before leaving them for 6 weeks.
Early the next morning I was dragging my five ton suitcase up their stairs and into the bedroom which was going to be mine for the next two weeks. After settling in, Madame and I drove to a station in Paris to pick up Adrian*, who had been banished on summer camp for 3 weeks. During the drive Madame and I spoke a lot. We shared many common interests and laughed a lot. Madame and I spoke a lot of English to each other, and I helped her learn a copious amount of English phrases. She carefully noted down what I introduced to her and by the end of my time, she had a huge Word document on her phone! She kept telling me how thankful she was to have found me, telling me that I would be a perfect influence on her boys.
Adrian, aged 12, seemed like a typical pre-teens boy. He replied in grunts and seemed more interested in his iPod than anything else. I understood exactly how he felt and told Madame how I used to be the same, but she refused to believe me, saying she couldn't imagine such behaviour from me. Ha. Ha.
The next five days I spent alone with Adrian as the parents went to work. In the mornings I would make his breakfast, play fun games with him and taught him songs like "Head, shoulders knees and toes" to help him practise his vocabulary. For lunch, I'd prepare our meals which he enjoyed even though they mainly consisted of hamburgers and pasta. In the afternoons, we'd play a sport such as table tennis or take a walk in the park. When the parents returned in the evenings I would set up the dinner table ready for the evening meal. Monsieur would always go to great lengths to prepare delicious three-course meals. Over dinner I would hold polite conversation and discuss Adrian's progress in English. His process in English pleased them a lot.
After that first week the two younger sons returned from their grandparents' home, where they too had been banished for the past 3 weeks. The parents had told me how it would get a lot noiser once the three boys were back together again and I can assure you that their prediction was correct! After a few hours of getting used to my company, the three boys treated me as one of their fellow play mates, tackling me to the ground and being very boisterous. It was all light hearted, and all good fun at this stage of my employment.
The first weekend with the whole family together was quite enjoyable. Monsieur suggested that we went to the Louvre, as previously suggested the first night, but unfortunately Madame just wanted to have a picnic at the Jardin du Luxembourg. It was a very close day - both in temperate and tension. It was the first day I saw Madame truly lose her temper at Adrian who had accidentally left a backpack in the park. Although I understood her frustration, I felt her anger was humiliating and unnecessary considering the circumstances. She later apologised to me for allowing me to view such a "personal" matter.
The next week was spent with the Father and the three boys. I continued my hourly lessons with Adrian, and spent the rest of my time playing games with the boys. Over the weekend I quickly learnt the characters of each of the boys: Adrian the eldest, influenced the other two and showed visible signs of teen-moodiness. George, 9, the middle one was the most wronged, and screamed continuously for attention (his Mother even told me there were spots in his voice box due to the strain...so you can imagine how loudly he screamed). The youngest and cutest, Timothy, aged 6, was arguably the most manipulative. His big blue eyes and gappy smile fooled everyone and got all he wanted - and he knew his power. One injustice towards him and he'd burst into tears and a second later he'd get his way. Useful tactic, really.
On the 6th of August, we all travelled down to St. Raphaël by train. It was a hard task keeping the boys under control, but somehow it was managed. Whilst travelling, I often pitied Monsieur who had to carry the family's two massive suitcases and rucksacks whilst Madame strolled leisurely around with a rolling valise. I would often rush to Monsieur's side and helped him up the stairs whilst Madame would just wait impatiently at the top, snapping at him to hurry up. When spending more time with the family at St. Raphaël, I learnt a lot about families, especially the dynamics between my host family. All of which I'll reveal later.
In the two weeks I was at St. Raphaël, my daily routine was quite repetitive and monotonous:
8: wake up and exercise in my room
8:30: breakfast
9: go down to the beach after Monsieur would text me, where he would have set the towels and umbrella out, and I would wait for the family to wake up
10: family came down, minus Madame who would come later as she preferred to stay in bed
12: lunch at the apartment
13: teach the boys English (somehow since moving to St. Raphaël I was then responsible to teach not only Adrian, but also the two other boys English. A task somewhat difficult as they all wanted my attention at the same time and to get it they ended up pulling on my clothes, my hair, or screaming in my ear until attention was given.)
17: going down to the beach
20: dinner!
21: playing card games with the children
23: bedtime
I spent a lot of time playing with the children on the beach, which I didn't mind at all as it meant I got a pretty awesome tan. Everyday maybe twice a day, I would walk the length of the shore with either one or all three of the boys. We would talk and joke a lot, and we all became very close. Adrian told me about the family's last au pair, one of their neighbours, who the parents absolutely hated. The girl apparently didn't spend any time with the children, and treated the whole experience as a holiday. Adrian said how the parents weren't impressed at all with her behaviour, but had to pay her as she was their neighbour and couldn't really do anything about it. However, I was pleasantly pleased when Adrian said that the parents loved me, especially the fact I spoke English!
Spending so much time with the family really enabled me to experience some peculiar incidences during my stay. As an employee, I couldn't comment, but I could observe. I soon realised that neither parent had any control over the children, and that shouting at them would have no effect on them as they would just laugh in their parents' faces. The children's language and behaviour shocked me, but I assumed that it was just growing up. I hoped, for the parents' sake, that they'd be more disciplined when they were older. However, I think one of the weirdest things I observed was the way in which Madame treated Monsieur. It was like something from American Sitcoms - whilst Monsieur would comically carry all bags, do all the household chores, and cook a three course meal twice a day, Madame would sit down and command everything from afar. If the water was a little out of her reach, she would tell (not ask!) Monsieur to get it for her. No please, no thank you. At first I thought that she may have just been having a bad day, but that bad day became a bad week and a bad month. Whenever the children needed, say, someone to cut their food up for them, even if she was right next to them, she would ask her husband to stop whatever he was doing, and cut the child's food up for them. Sometimes it became so ridiculous that I got up myself to cut and feed the children, in order to allow Monsieur to continue whatever he was doing in the kitchen. Continuing with the food talk, I once heard a huge clank coming from the kitchen. It sounded like Monsieur had dropped a casserole or something, and I turned to Madame asking if we should go check if he was okay. She took a very blazé attitude, but seeing my concern, she told me I could go check up on him to see if he needed help. It was times like these where her lack of concern for her husband shocked me.
Similarly, she seemed to treat him with ill disguised contempt. When at the beach, she would scream and shout at him to change the position of the umbrella if her little toe was not in the shade, she would publicly call him a bad father if he forgot to put suncream on the children, or she just snapped at him for no apparent reason. I witnessed all of this, and would help Monsieur whenever I could to ease his workload. He seemed to appreciate my help, and would thank me for my efforts.
In my mind, I was doing what the family expected of me. I would even go as far as saying that I went over and above their expectations, as I would not only do the duties required of me, but anything else that seemed helpful. I would lay and clear up the table, I would feed the children, I would shower them, play with them, tidy up after them, and by the end I was not only teaching the children English, but French aswell. Therefore, it came as a shock when they decided to fire me.
One day, I woke up and went to the kitchen as usual and was shocked to find both Monsieur and Madame in there. It was common to see Monsieur in the kitchen, where we would talk and have breakfast together, but I knew something was wrong when Madame, the late riser, was also awake. That previous night, they had left me alone with the children, so I tried to make casual conversation about their night out, until Madame interrupted me, asking me why there were three dishes on the draining board and if I thought that it was her responsibility to put them away. Her tone was harsh, so I shut up. She continued on by saying how the lights were left on, and that she found the freezer door wide open and that the kids' bathroom was a mess. I apologised for all of these, especially the freezer door as I remembered that the night before I had allowed Timothy to get himself another ice-cream without my supervision. Madame, who was the only one to talk the whole time, then told me that she found it so bad that she didn't wish to keep me on any longer as it could only get worse. I must admit to being quite taken aback, since all I got from her and her husband were compliments on my behaviour and I did not understand how this mistake had warrantied such a harsh decision. When my Father called her to discuss my immediate dismissal, he asked for more reasons why I was fired. She seemed physically affected by the question, shaking and nervously looking at her husband, and stammered out that I never helped with laying out the table, that I never played with the children, and never spent 3 hours a day with them. This, out of everything, shocked me the most as they were such outrageous lies. Nevertheless, after a long discussion, the agreement we came to (or shall I say, what she told me what would happen), was that I was to be send back to my parents' home that very day. Madame later informed me that she had also not told the children the truth as it would have been too "traumatising" for them, and instead she told them that my dad was dying!
However, what surprised me most of all was the fact that Monsieur and Madame made me write a contract after I had carried out the work. Something I'm pretty sure is illegal in France. Both husband and wife being lawyers undoubtedly knew this. The dates were wrong, and they paid me only for the weeks spent at St. Raphaël as I apparently had "volunteered" to come earlier. They also said that I did not work during this period as Monsieur was there the majority of the time - a comment they later went back on, saying that I only worked in Paris.
The suspicious circumstances under which the family fired me raised many queries. My aunt was especially surprised since when they saw the family before going to St. Raphaël, they told my aunt that I was a God send and the best au pair the could have found. Dad suggested that my relationship with Monsieur was a bit more friendly than Madame would have liked. Mum suggested that the family found a new au pair who could work throughout September, whereas I had to leave awkwardly around the start of the month. I suspect I was just an awful au pair.
* All names in this blog are fake in order to ensure the privacy of my friends and conceal their identities. However, the characters are all real people and the events actually happened
