card　and　I’ll　swipe　it。　That　way　you’ll　still　get　paid　for　all　the
  days　you　miss；　even　if　you　go　over。　You’ll　do　the　same　for
  me—everyone　does　it。”
  I　was　still　reeling　from　the　“and　you　never　will”　part；　but　she
  continued　her　briefing。
  “And　that’s　how　you’ll　get　food　in　the　dining　room　also。　It’s　a
  debit　card：　just　put　on　some　money　and　it　gets　deducted　at　the
  register。　Of　course；　that’s　how　they　can　tell　what　you’re　eating；”
  she　said；　unlocking　Miranda’s　office　door　and　plopping　herself　on
  the　floor。　She　immediately　reached　for　a　boxed　bottle　of　wine　and
  began　wrapping。
  “Do　they　care　what　you　eat？”　I　asked；　feeling　as　though　I’d　just
  stepped　directly　into　a　scene　fromSliver。
  “Um；　I’m　not　sure。　Maybe？　I　just　know　they　can　tell。　And　the　gym；
  too。　You　have　to　use　it　there；　and　at　the　newsstand　to　buy　books　or
  magazines。　I　think　it　just　helps　them　stay　organized。”
  Stay　organized？　I　was　working　for　a　pany　who　defined　good
  “organization”　as　knowing　which　floor　each　employee　visited；　whether
  they　preferred　onion　soup　or　Caesar　salad　for　lunch；　and　just　how
  many　minutes　they　could　tolerate　the　elliptical　machine？　I　was　a
  lucky；　lucky　girl。
  Exhausted　from　my　fourth　morning　of　waking　up　at　five…thirty；　it
  took　me　another　five　full　minutes　to　work　up　the　energy　to　climb　out
  of　my　coat　and　settle　down　at　my　desk。　I　thought　about　putting　my
  head　down　to　rest　for　just　a　moment；　but　Emily　cleared　her　throat。
  Loudly。
  “Um；　you　want　to　get　in　here　and　help　me？”　she　asked；　although　it
  was　clearly　no　question。　“Here；　wrap　something。”　She　thrust　a　pile
  of　white　paper　my　way　and　resumed　her　task。　Jewel　blasted　from　the
  extra　speakers　attached　to　her　iMac。
  Cut；　place；　fold；　tape：Emily　and　I　worked　steadily　through　the
  morning；　stopping　only　to　call　the　downstairs　messenger　center　each
  time　we’d　finished　with　twenty…five　boxes。　They’d　hold　them　until　we
  gave　the　green　light　for　them　to　be　fanned　out　all　over　Manhattan　in
  mid…December。　We’d　already　pleted　all　of　the　out…of…town　bottles
  during　my　first　two　days；　and　those　were　piled　in　the　Closet　waiting
  for　DHL　to　pick　them　up。　Considering　each　and　every　one　was　set　to
  be　sent　first…day　priority；　arriving　at　their　locations　at　the
  earliest　possible　time　the　very　next　morning；　I　wasn’t　sure　what　the
  rush　was—considering　it　was　only　the　end　of　November—but　I’d　already
  learned　it　was　better　not　to　ask　questions。　We　would　be　FedExing
  about　150　bottles　all　over　the　world。　The　Priestly　bottles　would
  make　it　to　Paris；　Cannes；　Bordeaux；　Milan；　Rome；　Florence；
  Barcelona；　Geneva；　Brugges；　Stockholm；　Amsterdam；　and　London。　Dozens
  to　London！　FedEx　would　jet　them　to　Beijing　and　Hong　Kong　and
  Capetown　and　Tel　Aviv　and　Dubai　（Dubai！）。　They　would　be　toasting
  Miranda　Priestly　in　Los　Angeles；　Honolulu；　New　Orleans；　Charleston；
  Houston；　Bridgehampton；　and　Nantucket。　And　those　all　before　any　went
  out　in　New　York—the　city　that　contained　all　of　Miranda’s　friends；
  doctors；　maids；　hair　stylists；　nannies；　makeup　artists；　shrinks；
  yoga　instructors；　personal　trainers；　drivers；　and　personal　shoppers。
  Of　course；　this　was　where　most　of　the　fashion…industry　people　were；
  too：　the　designers；　models；　actors；　editors；　advertisers；　PR　folks；
  and　all…around　style　mavens　would　each　receive　a　level…appropriate
  bottle　lovingly　delivered　by　an　Elias…Clark　messenger。
  “How　much　do　you　think　all　of　this　costs？”　I　asked　Emily；　while
  snipping　what　felt　like　the　millionth　piece　of　thick　white　paper。
  “I　told　you；　I　ordered　twenty…five　thousand　dollars’　worth　of
  booze。”
  “No；　no—how　much　do　you　think　it　costs　altogether？　I　mean；　to
  overnight　all　these　packages　all　over　the　world；　well；　I　bet　that　in
  some　cases　the　shipping　costs　more　than　the　bottle　itself；
  especially　if　they’re　getting　a　nobody　bottle。”
  She　looked　intrigued。　It　was　the　first　time　I’d　seen　her　look　at　me
  with　anything　other　than　disgust；　exasperation；　or　indifference。
  “Well；　let’s　see。　If　you　figure　that　all　the　domestic　FedExes　are
  somewhere　in　the　twenty…dollar　range；　and　all　the　international　are
  about　60；　then　that　equals　9；000　for　FedEx。　I　think　I　heard
  somewhere　that　the　messengers　charge　eleven　bucks　a　package；　so
  sending　out　250　of　those　would　be　2；750。　And　our　time；　well；　if　it
  takes　us　a　full　week　to　wrap　everything；　then　added　together；　that’s
  two　full　weeks　of　both　our　salaries；　which　is　another　four　grand—”
  It　was　here　I　flinched　inwardly；　realizing　that　both　of　our　salaries
  together　for　an　entire　week’s　work　was　by　far　the　most　insignificant
  expense。
  “Yeah；　it　es　to　around　16；000　in　total。　Crazy；　huh？　But　what
  choice　is　there？　She　is　Miranda　Priestly；　you　know。”
  At　about　one　Emily　announced　she　was　hungry　and　was　heading
  downstairs　to　get　some　lunch　with　a　few　of　the　girls　in　accessories。
  I　assumed　she　meant　she　would　pick　up　her　lunch；　since　that’s　what
  we’d　been　doing　all　week；　so　I　waited　for　ten　minutes；　fifteen
  minutes；　twenty；　but　she　never　reappeared　with　her　food。　Neither　of
  us　had　actually　eaten　in　the　dining　room　since　I’d　started　in　case
  Miranda　called；　but　this　was　ridiculous。　Two　o’clock　came　and　then
  two…thirty　and　then　three；　and　all　I　could　think　about　was　how
  hungry　I　was。　I　tried　calling　Emily’s　Cell　Phone；　but　it　went
  directly　to　voice　mail。　Could　she　have　died　in　the　dining　room？　I
  wondered。　Choked　on　some　plain　lettuce；　or　simply　slumped　over　after
  downing　a　smoothie？　I　thought　about　asking　someone　to　pick　something
  up　for　me；　but　it　seemed　too　prima　donna–ish　to　ask　a　perfect
  stranger　to　fetch　me　lunch。　After　all；I　was　supposed　to　be　the
  lunch…fetcher：Oh；　yes；　darling；　I’m　simply　too　important　to　abandon
  my　post　here　wrapping　presents；　so　I　was　wondering　if　you　might　pick
  me　up　a　turkey　and　brie　croissant？　Lovely　。　I　just　couldn’t　do　it。
  So　when　four　o’clock　rolled　around　and　there　was　still　no　sign　of
  Emily　and　no　call　from　Miranda；　I　did　the　unthinkable：　I　left　the
  office　unattended。
  After　peeking　down　the　hall　and　confirming　that　Emily　was　nowhere　in
  sight；　I　literally　ran　to　the　reception　area　and　pushed　the　down
  button　twenty　times。　Sophy；　the　gorgeous　Asian　receptionist；　raised
  her　eyebrows　and　looked　away；　and　I　wasn’t　sure　if　it　was　my
  impatience　or　her　knowledge　that　Miranda’s　office　was　abandoned　that
  made　her　look　at　me　that　way。　No　time　to　figure　it　out。　The　elevator
  finally　arrived；　and　I　was　able　to　throw　myself　onboard　even　as　a
  sneering；　heroin…thin　guy　with　spiky　hair　and　lime　green　Pumas　was
  pushing　“Door　Close。”　No　one　moved　aside　to　give　me　room　even　though
  there　was　plenty　of　space。　And　while　this　would’ve　normally　driven
  me　crazy；　all　I　could　concentrate　on　was　getting　food　and　getting
  back；　ASAP。
  The　entrance　to　the　all…glass…and…granite　dining　room　was　blocked　by
  a　group　of　Clackers…in…training；　all　leaning　in　and　whispering；
  examining　each　group　of　people　who　got　off　the　elevator。　Friends　of
  Elias　employees；　I　immediately　recalled　from　Emily’s　description　of
  such　groups；　obvious　from　their　unmasked　excitement　to　be　standing
  at　the　center　of　it　all。　Lily　had　already　begged　me　to　take　her　to
  the　dining　room　since　it’d　been　written　up　in　nearly　every　Manhattan
  newspaper　and　magazine　for　its　incredible　food　quality　and
  selection—not　to　mention　its　gaggle　of　gorgeous　people—but　I　wasn’t
  ready　for　that　yet。　Besides；　due　to　the　plex　office…sitting
  schedule　Emily　and　I　negotiated　each　day　so　far；　I’d　yet　to　spend
  more　time　there　than　the　two　and　a　half　minutes　it　took　to　choose
  and　pay　for　my　food；　and　I　wasn’t　sure　I　ever　would。
  I　pushed　my　way　past　the　girls　and　felt　them　turn　to　see　if　I　was
  anyone　important。　Negative。　Weaving　quickly；　intently；　I　bypassed
  gorgeous　racks　of　lamb　and　veal　marsala　in　the　entrees　section　and；
  with　a　push　of　willpower；　cruised　right　past　the　sundried　tomato　and
  goat　cheese　pizza　special　（which　resided　on　a　small　table　banished
  to　the　sidelines　that　everyone　referred　to　as　“Carb　Corner”）。　It
  wasn’t　as　easy　to　navigate　around　thepièce　de　résistance　of　the
  room；　the　salad　bar　（also　known　just　as　“Greens；”　as　in　“I’ll　meet
  you　at　Greens”）；　which　was　as　long　as　an　airport　landing　strip　and
  accessible　from　four　different　directions；　but　the　hordes　let　me
  pass　when　I　loudly　assured　them　that　I　wasn’t　going　after　the　last
  of　the　tofu　cubes。　All　the　way　in　the　back；　directly　behind　the
  panini　stand　that　actually　resembled　a　makeup　counter；　was　the
  single；　lone　soup　station。　Lone　because　the　soup　chef　was　the　only