File Under: Tripped Up By The Past

Yesterday I had to take a "road trip" for my boss to the Upper East Side -I had to deliver an envelope to one of our clients at his extremely exclusive address in a neighborhood teeming with exclusivity. I rarely go to this neighborhood, as most of my life occurs more conveniently much further downtown.

Down a dead end street, hard by the East River. The house number was barely noticeable, the apartment lobby small, discreet and opulent but nearly maritime in its spare elegance - very unusual for the Upper East Side, where most building lobbies strive to outdo their neighbors in size and marble acreage.

Walking to the subway after making my delivery, I had ample time to observe my fellow pedestrians. Every blonde, blue-eyed child, either walking or in a stroller, was accompanied by an older, darker woman - Caribbean, West Indian, African-American.

The Nanny Brigade was out in full force. It was early afternoon in early September, the weather balmy but the children back in school. It brought back many memories for me.

Once upon a time, 24 years ago, I was one of the nannies taking care of a pair of upper crust New York children.

In my day it was fashionable to import one's nanny, or "au pair" as we were called, from Europe - most of my peers and friends among the ranks were Swedish, French or British. Also fashionable was importing naieve religious girls from the West - many a good Mormon girl from Utah did her time as a nanny in the wicked city. Mormon girls were prized for several reasons - they didn't drink, smoke, or consort with men; all of them had a lifetime of experience in caring for small children, and it was nearly guaranteed that all of them would be afraid enough of a city and innocent enough that they would never suspect the cold facts of their servitude.

Perfect little puppets, in fact. Little soldiers sent to a different war, in fact.

I got my post from an ad placed in a Salt Lake City newspaper. My situation was different; I was older than most of the au pairs, I'd been to college and had lived on my own. At the time I was certainly not by any means a good Mormon girl, but I acted my heart out to convince the family by long distance that I wouldn't dare break the mold.

It was my ticket out, I confess. I wanted to leave Utah desperately. There was nothing for me there, and I was more than ready to leave a dead-end job and a disastrous relationship without a backward glance. I had always wanted to live in New York - it was my dream - and if I could get there using people who were bent on using me, I was keen to get the suffering over with and move on.

The memories I recalled yesterday are not happy or comfortable; on the contrary, much of that time I prefer to remember not at all.

The job I held lies in a hazy strata of paid servant, one notch above the housekeeper, one noticeable notch below everyone else. Depending on where one landed, one could be consistently ridiculed, debased, scorned, repeatedly shouted at, shamed, expoited or sexually harassed.

Never underestimate the cruelty of rich parents, for it can be infinitely varied and catch you unaware until you feel the knife in your back. Never underestimate the cruelty of priviledged children, for it can be breathtakingly cunning and aim precisely for your heart.

Perhaps there are situations where a nanny is loved and respected by the entire family - situations where her contributions to the children's welfare are openly and graciously acknowledged. Perhaps.

But the stories I heard and what I experienced during my very short tenure as an au pair belie that wish, grand as it may be. I was able to leave that life, fairly shortly after I'd begun, by getting a promising office job. After a few fits and starts I moved into a decent apartment, got a few raises, made real friends and experienced genuine romantic relationships. I have no illusions that my ability to leave servitude relied on being white, educated, and possessing marketable skills.

So I looked yesterday at the expressions on the faces of the Nanny Brigade, and was not surprised at all to see resignation.

It's too much to hope that they saw my empathy.