cotton tote； a bag that looked just like thoseüber …cool ones from
the Strand that all the NYU students slung over their shoulder； but
without the logo； and made sure everything was right。
One…and…a…quarter…pound ribeye； bleeding all over the container； so
raw it just might not have been cooked at all。 Check。 Two baked
potatoes the size of small kittens； each steaming hot。 Check。 One
small side container of smashed potatoes； made soft with lots of
heavy cream and extra butter。 Check。 Precisely eight perfect stalks
of asparagus with the tips looking plump and juicy and the ends
shaved to a clean； white finish。 Check。 There was also a metal gravy
boat full of softened butter； a pinch…box overflowing with grainy
kosher salt； a wooden…handled steak knife； and a crisp white linen
napkin； which today was folded into the shape of a pleated skirt。
How adorable。 Sebastian waited to see if I liked it。
“Very nice； Sebastian；” I said as though I were praising a puppy for
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！ Tha