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going number two outside。 “You really outdid yourself today。”
He beamed and then looked at the ground in practiced humility。
“Well； thank you。 You know how I feel about Ms。 Priestly； and； well；
it’s really an honor to； well； you know 。 。 。”
“Prepare her lunch？” I supplied； helpfully。
“Well； yes。 Exactly。 You know what I mean。”
“Yes； of course I do； Sebastian。 She’ll love it； I’m sure。” I didn’t
have the heart to tell him that I immediately unfolded all of his
creations because the Ms。 Priestly he so adored would throw a hissy
fit if faced with a napkin in the shape of anything other than a
napkin—never mind a bowling bag or a high…heeled shoe。 I tucked the
bag under my arm and turned to leave； but just then my phone rang。
Sebastian looked at me expectantly； fervently hoping that the voice
on the other line of my Cell Phone would be his love； his reason for
living。 He wasn’t let down。
“Is this Emily？ Emily； is that you； I can barely hear you！”
Miranda’s voice came over the line in a shrill； angry staccato。
“Hello； Miranda。 Yes； this is Andrea。” I stated calmly while
Sebastian visibly swooned at the sound of her name。
“Are you preparing my lunch yourself； Andrea？ Because according to
my clock； I asked for it thirty…five minutes ago。 I cannot think of
a single reason why—if you were doing your job properly—my lunch
would not be at my desk yet。 Can you？”
She got my name right！ A small success； but no time to celebrate。
“Uh； um； well； I’m very sorry it’s taken so long； but there was a
little mix…up with—”
“You do know just how uninterested I am in such details； do you
not？”
“Yes； of course I understand； and it won’t be long before—”
“I am calling to tell you that I want my lunch； and I want itnow 。
There’s really not much room for nuance； Emily。 I。 Want。 My。 Lunch。
Now！” With that； she hung up the phone； and my hands were shaking so
badly I dropped my cell on the floor。 It might as well have been
covered in burning arsenic。
Sebastian； who looked ready to pass out from the action； swooped
down to retrieve the phone and hand it back to me。
“Is she upset with us； Andrea？ I hope she doesn’t think we let her
down！ Does she？ Does she think that？” His mouth pursed into a tight
oval and the already prominent veins in his forehead pulsed； and I
wanted to hate him as much as I hated her； but I just felt sorry for
him。 Why did this man； this man who seemed remarkable only to the
extent that he was so unremarkable； why did he care so much about
Miranda Priestly？ Why was he so invested in pleasing her； impressing
her； providing for her？ Perhaps he should take over my job； I
thought； because I was going to quit。 Yes； that was it。 I was going
to march back to that office and quit。 Who needed her shit？ What
gave her the right to talk to me； to anyone； like that？ The
position？ The power？ The prestige？ The goddamn Prada？ Where； in a
just universe； was this acceptable behavior？
The receipt I was supposed to sign every day charging the
ninety…five…dollar meal to Elias…Clark was resting on the podium；
and I quickly scrawled an illegible signature。 Whether it was mine
or Miranda’s or Emily’s or Mahatma Gandhi’s at this point I couldn’t
even be sure； but it wouldn’t matter。 I grabbed the bag of food that
redefined the term “lunch meat” and stomped back outside； leaving a
very fragile Sebastian to deal with himself。 I threw myself in a cab
the moment I hit the street； nearly knocking an elderly man off his
feet。 No time to be concerned。 I had a job to quit。 Even with the
midday traffic； we covered the few blocks in ten minutes； and I
threw the cabbie a twenty。 I would’ve given him fifty if I’d had it
and figured out a way to recoup it from Elias； but there were none
in my wallet。 He immediately began counting out change； but I
slammed the door and ran。 Let that twenty go to caring for a little
girl somewhere or fixing a hot water heater； I decided。 Or even for
a few postshift beers at the cab park in Queens—whatever the cabbie
did with it would somehow be nobler than buying yet another cup of
Starbucks。
Full of self…righteous indignation； I stormed inside the building
and ignored the disapproving stares from the small group of Clackers
in the corner。 I saw Benji stepping off the Bergman elevators but
quickly turned my back so I didn’t waste any more time； swiped my
card； and threw my hip against the turnstile。 Shit！ The metal bar
smacked against my pelvic bone and I knew I’d have a splotchy purple
bruise within minutes。 I looked up to see two rows of glimmering
white teeth and the fat； sweating face that formed around them。
Eduardo。 He had to be kidding。 He just had to be。
I quickly flashed him my best nasty look； the one that said； quite
simply；Just die！ but it didn’t work today。 Maintaining full eye
contact； I swiveled around to the next turnstile in the line； swiped
my card lightning…fast； and lunged against the bar。 He’d managed to
lock it just in time； and I stood there as he let the Clackers go
through the first turnstile I’d tried； one by one。 Six in all； and I
still stood there； so frustrated I thought I might cry。 Eduardo was
not sympathetic。
“Girlfriend； don’t look so down。 This ain’t torture； it’s fun。 Now；
please。 Pay attention； because 。 。 。I think we’re alone now。 There
doesn’t seem to be anyone a…rou…ound。 I think we’re alone now。 The
beatin’ of our hearts is the only sou…ound 。”
“Eduardo！ How on earth am I supposed to act out that one？ I don’t
have time for this shit right now！”
“OK； OK。 No actin’ this time； just singin’。 I’ll start； you
finish。Children behave！ That’s what they say when we’re together。
And watch how you play！ They don’t understand； and so we’re 。 。 。 ”
I figured I wouldn’t have to quit if I ever actually made it
upstairs because I’d be fired by then anyway。 Might as well make
someone else’s day。“Running just as fast as we can；” I continued；
not missing a beat。“Holdin’ on to one another’s hand。 Tryin’ to get
away into the night and then you put your arms around me and we
tumble to the ground and then you say 。 。 。”
I leaned in closer when I noticed that the jerk from day one；
Mickey； was trying to listen； and Eduardo finished it off：“I think
we’re alone now。 There doesn’t seem to be anyone a…rou…ound。 I think
we’re alone now。 The beatin’ of our hearts is the only sou…ound！” He
guffawed and threw his hand in the air。 I slapped him high five； and
I heard the metal bar click open。
“Have a good lunch； Andy！” he called； still grinning。
“You； too； Eduardo； you； too。”
The elevator ride was blissfully uneventful； and it wasn’t until I
was standing directly outside the doors of our office suite that I
decided I couldn’t quit。 Aside from the obvious—that is； it’d be too
terrifying to do it unprepared； she’d probably just look at me and
say； “No； I won’t allow you to quit” and then what would I say？—I
had to remember that it was only a year of my life。 A single year to
bypass many more of misery。 One year； 12 months； 52 weeks； 365 days；
of putting up with this garbage to do what I really wanted。 It
wasn’t too great a demand； and besides； I was too tired to even
think about looking for another job。 Way too tired。
Emily looked up at me when I walked in。 “She’ll be right back。 She
just got called up to Mr。 Ravitz’s office。 Seriously； Andrea； what
took you so long？ You know that she es down on me when you’re
late； and what can I tell her？ That you’re smoking cigarettes
instead of buying her Coffee； or talking to your boyfriend instead
of getting her lunch？ It’s not fair—it’s really not。” She turned her
attention back to her puter； a resigned expression on her face。
She was right； of course。 It wasn’t fair。 To me； to her； to any
semicivilized human being。 And I felt bad for making it more
difficult for her； which I did every time I took a few extra minutes
away from the office to relax and unwind。 Because every second I was
gone was another second that Miranda focused her relentless
attention on Emily。 I vowed to try harder。
“You’re totally right； Em； and I’m sorry。 I’ll try harder。”
She looked genuinely surprised and a little bit pleased。 “I’d really
appreciate it； Andrea。 I mean； I’ve done your job。 Iknow how much it
sucks。 Trust me； there were days that I had to go out in the snow
and the slush and the rain to get her Coffee five； six； seven times
in a single day。 I was so tired I could barely move—I know what it’s
like！ Sometimes she’d call me to ask where something was—her latte；
her lunch； some special； sensitive…teeth toothpaste I’d been sent to
find—it was forting to discover that at least her teeth had a bit
of sensitivity—and I hadn’t even left the building yet。 Hadn’t even
gotten outside！ That’s just her； Andy。 That’s just how it is。 You
can’t fight it anymore； or you’ll never survive。 She doesn’t mean
any harm by it； she really doesn’t。 That’s just the way she is。”
I nodded and I understood； but I just couldn’t accept that。 I hadn’t
worked anywhere else； but I just couldn’t believe that all bosses
everywhere acted like this。 But maybe they did？
I carried the lunch bag over to my desk and began the preparations
for serving her。 One by one； I used my bare hands to pluck the food
from its heat…sealed to…go containers and arrange it （stylishly； I
hoped） on one of the china plates from the overhead bin。 Slowing
only to wipe my now greasy hands on a pair of her dirty Versace
pants I hadn’t yet sent to the cleaners； I placed the plate on the
teak and tile serving tray that resided under my desk。 Next to it
went the gravy boat full of butter； the salt； and the silverware
wrapped in a linen…pleated skirt…no…longer。 A quick survey of my
artistry revealed a missing Pellegrino。 Better hurry—she’d be back
any minute！ I dashed to one of the minikitchens and palmed a fistful
of ice cubes； blowing on them to keep them from freezer…burning my
hands。 Blowing was only one itsy； bitsy； teensy step from licking
them—do I do it？ No！ Be above it； rise above it。 Do not spit in her
food or gum her ice cubes。 You’re a bigger person than that！
Her office was still empty by the time I made it back； and the only
thing left to do was pour the bottled water and place the whole
orchestrated tray on her desk。 She’d e back and perch at her
mammoth desk and call out for someone to close her doors。 And this
would be one time I’d jump up happily； enthusiastically； because it
meant not only that she’d sit quietly behind those closed doors for
a good half hour； on the phone with B…DAD； but also that it was time
for us to eat as well。 One of us could race down to the dining room
and grab the very first thing she saw and race back so the other
could go。 We would try to hide our food under our desks and behind
our puter screens just in case she came out unexpectedly。 If
there was a single unspoken but still irrefutable rule； it was that
members of theRunway staff do not eat in front of Miranda Priestly。
Period。
My watch said it was quarter after two。 My stomach said it was late
evening。 It had been seven hours since I’d shoved a chocolate scone
down my throat on the walk back to the office from Starbucks； and I
was so hungry I considered gnawing on her ribeye。
“Em； I might pass out； I’m so hungry。 I think I’m going to run down
and pick something up。 Can I get you something？”
“Are you crazy？ You haven’t served her lunch yet。 She’ll be back any
minute。”
“I’m serious。 I really don’t feel well。 I don’t think I can wait。”
The sleep deprivation and the low blood sugar were bining to make
me dizzy。 I wasn’t sure I’d be able to carry the steak tray into her
office even if she did e back sometime soon。
“Andrea； be rational！ What if you run into her in the elevator or in
reception？ She’d know that you left the office。 She’d freak！ It’s
not worth the risk。 Hold on a sec—I’ll get you something。” She
grabbed her change purse and headed out of the office。 Not four
seconds later； I saw Miranda making her way down the hall toward me。
Any thoughts of dizziness or hunger or exhaustion disappeared the
moment I spotted her tight； frowning face； and I flew out of my