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wrote and wrote and wrote as Emily revealed these things throughout
our weeks together； and when we were finished； I felt there was
nothing I did not know about Miranda Priestly。 Except； of course；
what exactly made her so important that I’d filled a legal pad with
likes and dislikes。 Why； exactly； was I supposed to care？
“Yeah； he’s amazing；” Emily was sighing； twisting the phone cord
round and round her forefinger。 “It was the most romantic weekend I
think I’ve ever had。”
Ping！ You have a new e…mail from Alexander Fineman。 Click here to
open。 Oooh； fun。 Elias…Clark had firewalled instant messenger； but
for some reason I could still receive instant notifications that I’d
received a new e…mail。 I’d take it。
Hey baby； how’s your day？？ Things are crazy here； as usual。 Remember
I told you that Jeremiah had threatened all the little girls with a
box cutter he’d brought from Home？ Well； it seems he was serious—he
brought another one to school today and sliced one of the girls’
arms at recess and called her a bitch。 Not a deep cut at all； but
when the teacher on duty asked him where he’d gotten such an idea；
he said he saw his mom’s boyfriend do it to his mom。 He’s six years
old； Andy； can you believe it？ Anyway； the principal called an
emergency faculty meeting tonight； so I’m afraid I can’t make
dinner。 I’m so sorry！ But I have to say； I’m happy that they’re
responding to this at all—it’s more than I had hoped for。 You
understand； don’t you？ Please don’t be mad。 I’ll call you later； and
I promise to make it up to you。 Love； A
Please don’t be mad？ I hope you understand？ One of his
fourth…graders hadslashed another student and he was hoping I’d be
OK with him canceling dinner？ I’d canceled on him my first week
because I’d thought my week of riding around in a limo and wrapping
presents had been too demanding。 I wanted to cry； to call him and
tell him it was more than OK； that I was proud of him for caring
about these kids； for taking the job in the first place。 I hit
“reply” and was just about to write as much when I heard my name。
“Andrea！ She’s on her way in。 She’ll be here in ten minutes；” Emily
announced loudly； obviously struggling to remain calm。
“Hmm？ I’m sorry； I didn’t hear what—”
“Miranda is on her way into the office this moment。 We need to get
ready。”
“On her way into the office？ But I thought she wasn’t even ing
back to the country until Saturday 。 。 。”
“Well； clearly she changed her mind。 Now； move！ Go downstairs and
get her papers and lay them out just the way I told you。 When you’re
done； wipe down her desk and leave a glass of Pellegrino on the
left…hand side； with ice and a lime。 And make sure that her bathroom
is stocked； OK？ Go！ She’s already in the car； so she should be here
in less than ten minutes； depending on traffic。”
As I raced out of the office； I could hear Emily rapid…fire dialing
four…digit extensions and all but screaming； “She’s on her way—tell
everyone。” It took me only three seconds to wind through the
hallways and pass through the fashion department； but I already
heard panicked cries of “Emily said she’s on her way in” and
“Miranda’s ing！” and a particularly blood…curdling cry of
“She’sbaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaack ！” Assistants were frantically
straightening clothes on the racks that lined the halls； and editors
were racing into their offices； where I could see one changing from
her kitten…heeled shoes to four…inch stilettos while another lined
her lips； curled her lashes； and adjusted her bra strap without so
much as slowing down。 As the publisher walked out of the men’s room；
I glanced past him and saw James； looking frenzied； checking his
black cashmere sweater for lint while spastically popping Altoids in
his mouth。 Unless the men’s room was wired with loudspeakers for
these very occasions； I wasn’t even sure how he’d heard yet。
I was dying to stop and watch the scene unfold； but I had less than
ten minutes to prepare for my first meeting with Miranda as her
actual assistant； and I wasn’t going to blow it。 Until then I’d been
trying not to appear as if I’d been actually running； but upon
witnessing the utter lack of dignity everyone else had demonstrated；
I broke into a sprint。
“Andrea！ You know Miranda’s on her way here； don’t you？” Sophy
called from the reception desk as I flew by。
“Yeah； I know； but how do you know？”
“Sweetie pie； I know everything。 Now I suggest you get your butt in
gear。 One thing’s for sure： Miranda Priestly doesnot like to be kept
waiting。”
I leapt onto the elevator and called out a thank you。 “I’ll be back
in three minutes with the papers！”
The two women on the elevator stared at me in disgust； and I
realized that I had been screaming。
“Sorry；” I said； trying to catch my breath。 “We just found out that
our editor in chief is on her way to the office and we weren’t
prepared； so everyone’s a little edgy now。”Why am I explaining
myself to these people？
“Ohmigod； you must work for Miranda！ Wait； let me guess。 You’re
Miranda’s new assistant？ Andrea； right？” The leggy brunette flashed
what must’ve been four dozen teeth and moved forward like a piranha。
Her friend instantly brightened。
“Um； yeah。 Andrea；” I said； repeating my own name as though I wasn’t
entirely sure it was mine。 “And yes； I’m Miranda’s new assistant。”
At that moment the elevator hit the lobby and the doors opened to
the stark white marble。 I moved ahead of the women and bolted
through before the doors had opened entirely and heard one of them
call； “You’re a lucky girl； Andrea。 Miranda’s an amazing woman； and
a million girls would die for your job！”
I tried not to slam into a group of very unhappy…looking lawyers；
and nearly flew into the newsstand in the corner of the lobby； where
a little Kuwaiti man named Ahmed presided over a sleek display of
glossy titles and a noticeably sparser array of mostly sugar…free
candy and diet sodas。 Emily had introduced Ahmed and me to each
other before Christmas as part of my training； and I was hoping he
could be enlisted to help me now。
“Stop right there！” he cried as I began pulling newspapers out of
their wire racks by the register。 “You are Miranda’s new girl；
right？ e here。”
I swiveled to see Ahmed lean down and ferret under the register； his
face turning a bit too red under the strain。 “Ah…ha！” he cried
again； springing to his feet with all the agility of an old man with
two broken legs。 “For you。 So you don’t make a mess of my display； I
keep them aside for you each day。 And maybe to make sure I don’t run
out； too。” He winked。
“Ahmed； thank you。 I can’t even tell you how much this helps me。 Do
you think I should get the magazines now； too？”
“I sure do。 Look； it’s already Wednesday and they all came out on
Monday。 Your boss probably don’t like that so much；” he said
knowingly。 And again he reached under the register and again he rose
with an armful of magazines； which； after a quick glance； I
confirmed were all the ones on my list—no more； no less。
ID card； ID card； where the hell was that goddamn ID card？ I reached
inside my starched white button…down and found the silk lanyard that
Emily had fashioned for me out of one of Miranda’s white Hermès
scarves。 “Never actually wear the card when she’s around； of
course；” she had said； “but just in case you forget to take it off；
at least you won’t be wearing it on a plastic chain。” She had
practically spit out the last two words。
“Here you go； Ahmed。 Thank you so much for your help； but I’m in a
big； big rush。 She’s on her way in。”
He swiped my card down the reader on the side of the machine and
placed the scarf lanyard around my neck like a lei。 “Run； now。 Run！”
I grabbed the overflowing plastic bag and ran； pulling my ID card
out again to swipe against the security turnstiles that would allow
me to enter the Elias…Clark elevator bank。 I swiped and pushed。
Nothing。 I swiped and pushed again； this time harder。 Nothing。
“Some boys kiss me； some boys hug me； I think they’re
okay…ay；”Eduardo； the round and slightly sweaty security guard；
began singing in a high…pitched voice from behind the security desk。
Shit。 I already knew without looking that his smile； conspiratorial
and enormous； demanded again—as it had every single day for the past
few weeks—that I play along。 It seems he had a never…ending supply
of annoying tunes that he loved to sing； and he wouldn’t