By the boxes left in her former room, it was clear Sam had not “moved out” after all.
She came back to the house, even though I had texted her that I would take care of my son that day, and she went into her former room and shut the door. A little later, a strange man came to our house and went into her room. Then he helped her take out some boxes, and she rode away with him in his car. By the brief conversation I overheard, it seemed she did not know this man. It was all very bizarre.
I went online to see if her Twitter feed might offer a clue as to what she was up to. Well, once again, Sam did not disappoint by disappointing. The night before she had been trolling online for strangers to come help her move out. She said she was going to stay at her friend’s house, deemed the Pussy House. A man intrigued by her mention of this moniker began an online conversation with her. After a few exchanges with this stranger, she asked him to come help her move, and she gave him the address of our home.
Sam once again proved she had no discretion. No responsibly. She invited a strange man she met in a strange way into our home. Once again, she carelessly jeopardized my family’s safety and security. Despite being an avid user of Facebook, Twitter, etc., Samantha Friedman did not obverse any precautions to protect my son and my family from a crime perpetrated through social media, which is more and more becoming common place.
Okay, so I have some responsibly here. I let this person stay in my home even after the red flags. Here I do take some blame. I wanted to get rid of her after the first “fainting spell” and unexplained vomiting, but I did not. I saw via Twitter and her blog that she was unstable, and that she was plotting to quit and leave, but I did not confront or fire her.
I kept wanting to give her the benefit of the doubt. She seemed so nice, personable, funny and smart. My son also seemed to like her, and she was helpful around the house in ways that other nannies had not been. She took out the trash and emptied the dishwasher on occasion. She was also mostly very quiet while in her room, and she cleaned up after herself in the kitchen, so she seemed an ideal roommate. So when I saw the signs of trouble, I ignored them, or denied them. I wanted things to work out, and in general I try to give people a lot of latitude and try to see the best in them.
My partner pretty much backed away from making any decision in the matter. Oddly, Sam thought that she and my partner were friends, or at least friendly, but ironically it was my partner who constantly told me about Sam’s erratic behavior and warned me that she was “crazy.” My partner has a way of hiding how she feels about people. She is nice to their face, but in reality she may really dislike a person or not trust him or her. This was the case with Sam. My partner even went on a 6-K run with Sam, pretending to like her, but when they got back from the run, and other outings, she would tell me all about how “nuts” Sam was.
So while my partner would regularly say disparaging things about Sam, she did nothing outward to let on that she was anything but happy with her. This facade of friendship deceived Sam into confiding to my partner that she thought I might be “spying” on her via Twitter. Sam claimed to my partner that one day when she tweeted that she was at the end of her rope, that I came and offered to help out. Ironically, this never happened. If I ever offered to help out it was just a coincidence that Sam had been complaining about her job.
Whatever the reason I exercised bad judgment and let her stay longer than I should have, the ending of this situation assured me that I should have gone with my gut and let her go when I first suspected she had issues.
Back to the day of her leaving.
On her last day — which was not really her last day, as she owed us a week of work, but that aside, it was the last day I would ever see her — Sam picked up my son from school and took him to the park. She and I continued to have email and text exchanges as she said she was trying to work out a ride so she could babysit the next day. She said getting a ride would be difficult because she was staying Orange County. This I knew as a lie. I knew from reading her Tweets that she was staying with her friend Eva, an actress from Harry Potter, just a few blocks away.
By this time I was very uncomfortable with her watching my son. She had proved she was unstable in more ways than one, and now she was outright lying to me. I called her and told her to bring my son home and that I would watch him the rest of the day. She said she didn’t want to come to the house because she was worried I was mad at her and I might, “punch her in the head.” I tried to remain calm. “Okay,” I said. “I think it would be best if you just bring (my son) home now, and you can get your things and go.”
At this point I realized I didn’t know who Sam was. She had let the crazy out of the bag. I didn’t want her in my home again, and I didn’t want her near my son. I closed all the doors to the rooms in the house so that when she came back she would not be able to go anywhere but to “her room” to get the remainder of her things AND GO.
Then I waited. The park was just minutes away, but 15 minutes passed, and still she was not back with my son. Then 20, then 30 minutes passed. When 45 minutes had gone by. I began to worry.
I texted her to be home within the next five minutes.
I waited. 10 minutes went by. I reached for the phone to call the police. Just then, I heard her out front.
She and a young woman were coming into the courtyard with my son in his stroller. I went to get my son, and Sam pushed by, looking frantic.
Her friend also pushed her way into the house. I realized she must have brought this person for “protection.” Both of them had a hysterical, crazed look to them. She had clearly gotten this other person worked up with her delusions about the situation.
Sam began banging around her room grabbing her things. My son was confused and asking what was happening. I tried to console him and said, “Sam is just leaving. Remember I told you she needed to go back to live with her mother.”
Within a few minutes, Sam had cleared out. I was standing in the courtyard with my son behind me when I saw her and her friend running out of the side door of the house.
I was worried for my son, who was witnessing this scene. He had already had three nannies come and go. He was attached to Sam and sad about her leaving.
I tried to speak as calmly and normally as possible. I said to Sam, “Did you say ‘goodbye’ to (my son)?”
“Yes, I told him,” she said over her shoulder, as she ran through the gate, as if I were after her.
It was a crazy scene. It was an experience I never want to relive.
She was gone at last. But the remnants remained. More in the next post…
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