The Mean Mary Ellen

This is the au pair and this is my sad story of working for a woman who thinks I should limit myself to 250 cell-phone minutes a month.

Last week, Mary Ellen made me cry. Here she comes, sashaying through the door (dressed far too casually for office work, in my opinion), after 8 hours of... what does she do? I have no idea, but I know it doesn't involve baby poop. (Editor -- It does however, involve a whole lot of bullshit...) And this is what she tells me, "I don't want to come home from work and wash your lunch dishes or pick hot dogs off the floor."

And then she says, "Can you work on that?"

Unbelievable! So I went to Starbucks, of course. (Without doing my lunch dishes.) And when I came back, I think she had been drinking. (Editor -- That is true.) I ask her, "What are my obligations here?" Well, the more she says, the worse it gets! She says she is not demanding. (A joke? I don't understand the humor in this country.) But then she says, and I must think this is the booze talking, "I don't want to do your work."

I cried, of course. But do you think she brought me a Kleenex? No! She walked out of the room! So, fine. I come from a country where the people have suffered a great deal and I know how to make like the martyr. (Editor -- Whaa? You're Italian?!) She should not think that she can console me with Oreo cookies, hazelnut coffee and Valentine's Day chocolates. (Editor -- So that's the price of clean dishes. A bargain, I think!)