The Vacation That Wasn’t
I was beyond excited when my neighbors, the Parkers, invited me to join them on their Caribbean vacation as a nanny for their kids. It was a dream opportunity—ten days at an all-inclusive resort, $500 in my pocket, and three days completely to myself to relax and enjoy paradise. The arrangement was simple: I’d take care of the kids for two days, then get one full day off, repeating the cycle.
It sounded perfect.
I had already started researching the activities available at the resort, imagining myself snorkeling, getting a massage, or even just lounging by the pool with a tropical drink. The first two days went smoothly—I played with the kids at the beach, made sure they ate their meals, and put them to bed while Mr. and Mrs. Parker enjoyed their fancy dinners. It was tiring, but I knew I had a break coming soon.
Then came the third day.
That morning, I got up early, excited for my first day off. I had already booked a snorkeling excursion and was planning to spend the afternoon sunbathing by the ocean. But when I came down to the hotel lobby, ready to head out, Mrs. Parker frowned at me.
“Where are you going?” she asked, glancing at my swimsuit and beach bag.
I hesitated. “It’s my day off. I booked a snorkeling trip.”
She exchanged a look with her husband before turning back to me with a forced smile. “Oh, we were actually hoping you could take the kids for a few more hours today. We just booked a last-minute boat tour, and it’s *adults only*.”
I blinked. “But… we agreed I’d have today off.”
“Well, yes,” she said, still keeping that artificial sweetness in her voice. “But we just need a *little* flexibility. I mean, we’re paying you, after all.”
I stared at them, my stomach sinking.
“We’ll be back by 6 p.m.,” Mr. Parker added, already handing me the kids’ beach bags like the conversation was over.
I wanted to push back. I wanted to remind them of the agreement, of the fact that I had given up my holiday break for this. But their expressions told me everything I needed to know. They *expected* me to say yes.
So, I did. I stayed behind with the kids while they sailed off, sipping cocktails and enjoying the Caribbean breeze. I canceled my snorkeling trip, losing the non-refundable fee. But I told myself it was just one change—surely, they wouldn’t do it again.
Except they did.
Every time my “day off” came around, they had a new excuse. “Oh, we just need you to cover for a couple of hours.” “Oh, can you just watch them until after dinner?” “Oh, we didn’t realize you’d actually made *plans*.”
By day seven, I had spent every single day watching their kids from morning to night while they enjoyed their vacation. I hadn’t stepped foot outside the resort except to chase after the kids on the beach.
On the ninth night, as I tucked the kids into bed, Mrs. Parker knocked on the door.
“We just wanted to say *thank you* for being so helpful this trip,” she said. “We’re so grateful you were able to be flexible.”
I forced a tight smile. “No problem.”
She beamed. “Oh, and one more thing! Since you didn’t really use your *off days*, we thought maybe we could just reduce the payment a little. You know, since it turned out to be more like a family trip for you.”
I felt my stomach drop.
“Reduce?” I echoed.
“Well, yes,” she said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I mean, you got free meals and a place to stay. It wouldn’t really be fair to pay you the full $500 when you got to enjoy the resort with us.”
I stared at her. I had spent **ten straight days** looking after her kids. I had lost my three days off. I had canceled activities I had already *paid* for.
And now, they wanted to **pay me less**?
I opened my mouth to argue, but then I stopped. If they were willing to shortchange me like this, I knew I wasn’t getting anywhere with them. Instead, I forced a smile and nodded.
“Of course. I understand completely.”
Mrs. Parker sighed in relief. “Oh, I knew you’d get it. We’ll send you *something* once we get back home.”
That “something” turned out to be a **$200 Venmo transfer**—less than half of what they had promised. No message. No apology.
Just $200 and the expectation that I’d be grateful.
Well, lesson learned.
Next time someone offers me a “dream vacation” as a nanny, I’ll be making them sign a **contract.**
