Most of the young people who come to America from our country start their “career” as babysitters. These are girls in their twenties, or mothers past age 40, who, like anybody else, have crossed the ocean in hopes of a better future. Their dreams, however, do not always come true. Far from it. After several months, many of them begin to think they should have remained at home and preserved their notion of the promised land, amidst all the tribulations and difficulties of life.

Of course, there are always exceptions; not everybody longs to go home after the first month. For some, everything falls into place on their first try. These women find a good agency, a good placement agent, they are placed with “the best family in the world,” receive a fantastic salary, have the use of a car, take a luxurious summer vacation, and in addition, they also have a green card arranged for them. It would be a lie to say that this could only happen in fairy tales, but those who keep their eyes open know that the chance for something like this to happen may be one in a thousand.

In fact, those who start out babysitting either give up after a few months to look for other options, or grit their teeth and summon all their strength to hang in there for five or six months. Then, with the little money they have left over, they virtually “run home.”

Readers may think that this writer is exaggerating: who would want to run away from the United States to go anywhere else, especially to Hungary, once he or she succeeded in coming here in the first place?

Ági, who came to New York a year ago (and is now working as a waitress), has this to say about the beginning of her stay:

"I was looking at the usual ads in the papers at home: “Be a babysitter in America. Families with high standards. Top pay.” New York had long been a dream of mine, and because I had been unemployed for a long time, and whatever I tried didn't work out, I decided to borrow some money and go to the United States to start a new life. After a few months of trying, everything worked out, and I was delighted that I got a visa. I replied to one of the ads. The lady I called wanted 20,000 forints to put me in contact with a Hungarian agency in America.

As I learned, I would have to give four week's salary to the so-called "agency," and the price would include room and board. I would have to be provided with room and board until I found employment, the middlewoman said. She also told me “the agency" would drive me to the interviews because I didn't know my way around New York. In any case, that would be covered by the four weeks' salary which, if I were clever enough to find a job that pays $500, would total $2000.

I thought a mediation fee of $2000 was a bit high, but in the end I told myself, what the heck, if all of this is included, it would be worth it. I would have to pay the price to start a new life. The series of surprises started when I realized at the New York airport that the agency was a single individual, a girl my age, and I would have to share an unfurnished basement room with five other girls and sleep on the floor, because there were no beds. We did get bed linens, but since they were dirty and stinky, I wasn't able to use them.

Fortunately, my mother talked me into bringing my own bed linens from home, so at least I had a cover. We also found out that we had to pay for our own food because the mediation fee of four weeks' pay didn't cover it. I couldn't wait to go to the first interview and get a job already. We weren't driven to the interviews, either; we were handed an address and a phone number and we had to find our own way, by train, by bus, as we were able. Nothing was the way the middlewoman told me at home."

"Didn't you sign a contract about what was included in the agent's fee?"

"Unfortunately not. I was so happy to be able to go to America, I didn't even think of signing any contract or anything else."

"What happened with the first family?"

"The family that hired me had a huge, three-story mansion. As soon as I arrived, the first thing the woman of the house said was to wash my hands before I touched anything. Then she squeezed some currant-scented body lotion into a plastic cup and said, “I like your scent and your perfume very much, but I would like you to use this in the future, because this is what I use, and my kids will be very happy to smell it on you.” My room was in the basement, of course, which in itself would not have been a problem if it had been heated. I started working in the middle of February and it was very cold outside. It was peculiar that it was nice and warm everywhere in the three-story mansion, except in my room, which was more like an ice pit. It stayed that way as long as I was there."

"What did you have to do?"

"Clean, cook, wash, iron, and take care of the kids, up to 21 hours a day."

"What do you mean 21 hours a day?"

"In principle, I was supposed to work from 7 a.m. to 7 p.m., but they came up with some extra work for me almost every day. And whatever happened at night, they woke me up immediately. If a kid threw up on the rug at 2 a.m., I had to run and clean it up, and things like that. I had to be available any time of the day, regardless of working hours. And the housework wasn't as simple as it normally is. I had to wipe the gas stove, the table, and every piece of furniture only in the direction of the grain that was visible on the surface. The floor had to be scrubbed on my hands and knees. And washing wasn't easy, either. Every piece of clothing, down to the last sock, had its own washing technique. This one in hot water, this one turned inside out, but not that one, this one can be put in the dryer, that one must be dried on a hanger. If I put something in differently, she said I was ruining her clothes.”

"Was the wife at home all day?"

"Yes, she was home all day, and followed me around. If she wasn't standing right behind me, then she was watching on camera to see where I was, what I was doing, and what I was eating. Because I wasn't allowed to eat everything. The first day all I was allowed the entire day were two hardboiled eggs left over from a party. Since I don't like to be hungry, I went shopping in Manhattan. I bought Hungarian food, like sausage and hard salami. When she saw it, she immediately threw it out of the fridge. “If my husband sees this, he'll get a heart attack! This is a kosher household. You can't bring home such sinful things,” she said."

"How much was your salary?"

"Only $320. At the end of the week, I always had to wait for hours for my money.

"How long were you able to put up with this?"

"Three months. I was always a hard worker, and never liked to complain, but this was really too much. I couldn't stand the stress, the hunger, the cold and the humiliation any longer. I tried to get the agent to do something because she was supposed to help. She kept saying she was very busy, but she would look into it. Then I tried another family or two, but they were the same, with slight differences. I thought $300 a week wasn't worth becoming a wreck at 20, so I gave up. Even in Hungary I was much better off. Here, I felt like I was in prison. I never want to be a domestic worker again. Now I work as a waitress, I rent a room for $400 a month, I make more money, my work is appreciated, I'm free, and I love New York."

Bea, another babysitter, tells this about her experience:

Everyone in the family was very nice to her. But the father was too nice, especially when the mom wasn't home.

"The husband had a home office where he worked. He sat in front of the computer all morning. The wife was a businesswoman who traveled sometimes for days. The kids were in school until late afternoon, so the dad and I were alone in the apartment all day.

First he tried to be very nice to me. He made me breakfast. I didn't understand why he did, but I said thank you and accepted it. Next day, he left the door of the bathroom wide open while he was taking a shower. I got really scared one night when I woke up around 2 a.m. and sensed that someone was standing next to my bed. It was he. Alarmed, I asked him what had happened, and what he wanted, and he left my room without a word. That same day, he asked me to put some cream on his back because he couldn't reach it. I got really embarrassed and mumbled some excuse in English that I had work to do.

Next day he asked me again to put cream on his back, and he even put on some slow music. When I again refused, he grabbed my hand and told me I had to go to bed with him! Otherwise, he would make his wife fire me and report me to immigration. I ran to my room crying, locked myself in, and waited for the worst. Thank God, nothing happened. I waited in my room until the kids came home from school, and then I went downstairs, because I knew he wouldn't dare do anything in their presence. Next morning he had a business meeting in Manhattan, so he left early. I had packed up my things the previous night. I called a cab, and by the time he got home, I was gone."

"I was afraid he would report me to the INS, so I spoke with a lawyer and told him what had happened. The lawyer told me I needn't worry, because based on what I told him, the dad could get into much more trouble than I could."

These stories are upsetting. It is possible to have different versions of the same story. One thing is clear: we have to be careful which ad we fall for. We have to research everything carefully before we pay anything to any "agency," and once we have a family, we shouldn't be afraid to make a change if troubling things happen to us. If we have no other choice, and have to work as a babysitter, it is best to live outside the house. In that case we can go home after work and do whatever we want, because America is the land of the free.

This article was written as part of the Ethnic Press Fellowship of the Independent Press Association-New York.