I was at Starbucks the other day and there was a stout British woman at the counter arguing over whether her coffee should be $2.50 or $2.55. She had a thick British accent and a no-nonsense attitude about her. She had a put-together, yet slightly disheveled look in her short sleeve collared shirt and vest.
I thought to myself, “This lady has got to be a nanny.” Then I paused and chastised myself for being so stereotypical. “No, Stephanie,” I thought, “Not all no-nonsense stout British women are nannies.”
While I was waiting for my coffee, she dropped her lid near me. I reached down to pick it up and she firmly chided me, “No! Don’t you even think about it!” I snapped back up because, who is going to argue with this woman?
She made mention of the fact that I was standing there gently rocking back and forth (a.k.a. keeping myself from getting kicked in the ribs). Then she said (loudly and Britishly), “I have been a nanny for twenty-seven years and I still find myself rocking whenever I stand in line at the market. Even though I have no bay-bay in my arms. I guess I’m just rocking my handbag now instead!”
And, in my head (of course), I was like, “Yeah! Boo-yah! You are SO a NANNY!!!” And I felt vindicated. And it felt good.