I’d already introduced myself to a thousand curious callers。
“Ah； Miranda’s new assistant；” the strange female voice roared。
“Aren’t you the luckiest girl in the w…w…w…world！ How are you
finding your tenure with supreme evil thus far？”
I perked up。 This was new。 In all the days I’d worked atRunway； I’d
never met a single person who dared to badmouth Miranda so boldly。
Was she serious？ Could she be baiting me？
“Um； well； working atRunway has been a really great learning
experience；” I heard myself stutter。 “It’s a job a million girls
would die for； of course。” Did I just say that？
There was a moment of silence； followed by a hyena…like howl。 “Oh；
that’s just f…f…f…fucking perfect！” she screeched； doing some sort
of simultaneous laugh…choke。 “Does she lock you in your West Village
studio apartment and deprive you of all things G…g…g…gucci until
you’re brainwashed enough to actually say shit like that？
F…f…f…fantastic！ That woman is really a piece of work！ Well； Miss
Learning Experience； I’d heard through the grapevine that Miranda
had actually hired herself a thinking l…l…l…l…lackey this time
around； but I see that the grapevine； as usual； is wrong。 You like
Michael Kors t…t…twinsets and all the pretty fur coats at J。
Mendel’s？ Yes； sweetie； you’ll do just fine。 Now put that skinny…ass
boss of yours on the phone。”
I was conflicted。 My first impulse was to tell her to fuck off； tell
her she didn’t know me； that it’s easy to see she tries to
pensate for her stuttering with a major attitude problem。 More
than that； though； I wanted to press the phone close to my lips and
urgently whisper； “I am a prisoner； more than you can
imagine—please； oh； please； e and rescue me from this brainwash
hell。 You’re right； it’s just the way you describe； but I’m
different！” But I didn’t get the chance to do either； because it
finally occurred to me that I had no idea who owned the raspy；
stuttering voice on the other end of the phone。
I sucked in my breath and decided to hit her point for point—on
every subject but Miranda。 “Well； I do adore Michael Kors； of
course； but I must tell you that it’s certainly not because of
histwinsets 。 Furs from J。 Mendel’s are wonderful； of course； but a
realRunway girl—that is； someone with discriminating and impeccable
taste—would probably prefer something custom made from Pologeorgis
on Twenty…ninth Street。 Oh； and for the future； I’d prefer if you
used the more casual ‘hired help’ instead of something as stiff and
unforgiving as ‘lackey。’ Now； of course； I’ll be happy to correct
any more incorrect assumptions you’d care to make； but maybe I could
ask with whom am I speaking first？”
“Touché； Miranda’s new assistant； touché。 You and I m…m…may be
friends after all。 I d…d…d…don’t much like the usual robots she
hires； but it’s fitting because I don’t much like her。 My name is
Judith Mason； and in c…c…case you aren’t aware； I author your travel
articles each m…m…m…month。 Now； tell me this； since you’re still
relatively new now： Is the h…h…honeymoon over？”
I was silent。 What did she mean by this？ It was like talking to a
ticking bomb。
“Well？ You’re in that fascinating window of time w…w…w…where you’ve
been there long enough for everyone to know your name； but not long
enough that they uncover and exploit all your weaknesses。 It’s a
really sweet feeling when th…th…th…that happens； trust me。 You’re
working in a really special place。”
But before I could respond； she said； “Enough f…f…f…flirting for
now； my new friend。 Don’t b…b…b…bother telling her it’s me； because
she never takes my c…c…calls anyway。 Stuttering pisses her off； I
think。 Just be sure to put my n…n…n…name down on the Bulletin so she
can make someone else call me back。 Thanks； l…l…love。” Click。
I hung up the phone； dumbfounded； and started to laugh。 Emily looked
up from one of Miranda’s expense reports and asked who it was。 When
I told her it was Judith； she rolled her eyes so deeply they almost
didn’t resurface and whined； “She’s such a supreme bitch。 I have；
like； no idea how Miranda even speaks to her。 She won’t take her
calls； though； so you don’t even have to tell her she’s on the
phone。 Just put her on the Bulletin and Miranda will have someone
else call her back。” It seems Judith understood the inner workings
of our office better than I。
I double…clicked on the icon on my sleek turquoise iMac called
“Bulletin” and glanced over its contents so far。 The Bulletin was
thepièce de résistance of Miranda Priestly’s office and； as far as I
could see； her sole reason for living。 Developed many years before
by some high…strung； pulsive assistant； the Bulletin was simply a
Word document that lived in a shared folder both Emily and I could
access。 Only one of us could open it at a time and add a new
message； thought； or question to the itemized list。 Then we’d print
out the updated version and place it on the clipboard that sat on
the shelf over my desk； removing the old ones as we went。 Miranda
would examine it every few minutes throughout the day as Emily and I
struggled to type； print； and clip as quickly as the calls came in。
Often we’d hiss at each other to close the Bulletin so the other
could access it and write a message。 We’d print to our separate
printers simultaneously and dive for the clipboard； not knowing
whose was the most recent until we were face to face。
“Judith’s the latest message on mine；” I said； exhausted from the
pressure of trying to finish it before Miranda entered the suite。
Eduardo had called from the security desk downstairs to warn us that
she was on her way upstairs。 We hadn’t gotten a call from Sophy yet；
but we knew it’d be only seconds。
“I have the concierge from the Ritz Paris after Judith；” Emily
near…shouted； triumphantly； while clipping her sheet to the Lucite
clipboard。 I took my four…second outdated Bulletin back to the desk
and glanced over it。 Dashes in phone numbers were not permissible；
only periods。 There were to be no colons in the time； only periods。
Times must be rounded up or down to the nearest quarter…hour。
Call…back phone numbers always got their own lines to make them
easier to distinguish。 A time listed indicated that someone had
called in。 The word “note” was something that Emily or I had to tell
her （since addressing her without being first addressed was out of
the question； all relevant info went on the Bulletin）。 “Reminder”
was something Miranda had most likely left on one of our voice mails
sometime between one and fiveA 。M。 the previous night； knowing that
once it was recorded for us； it