everyone else。 What it hadn’t yet done was convince me that any of
this gave her a right to treat people the way she did。 Why was the
ability to put together a Balmain evening gown and a brooding； leggy
Asian girl on a side street in San Sebastian worshiped so much that
Miranda wasn’t accountable for her behavior？ I still wasn’t building
the bridge； but what the hell did I know？ Emily obviously got it。
“Emily； all I’m saying is that you’re a really great assistant to
her； that she’s lucky she has someone who works as hard as you do；
who’s so mitted to the job。 I just wish you’d realize that it’s
not your fault if she’s unhappy with something。 She’s just an
unhappy person。 There’s nothing more you could have done。”
“I know that。 I really do。 But you don’t give her enough credit；
Andy。 Think about it。 I mean； really think about it。 She is so
incredibly acplished； and she’s had to sacrifice a lot to get
there； but couldn’t the same be said of supersuccessful people in
every industry？ Tell me； how many CEOs or managing partners or movie
directors or whatever don’t have to be tough sometimes？ It’s part of
the job。”
I could tell we weren’t going to see eye to eye on this one。 It was
clear that Emily was deeply invested in Miranda； inRunway； in all of
it； but I just couldn’t understand why。 She wasn’t any different
from the hundreds of other personal assistants and editorial
assistants and assistant editors and associate editors and senior
editors and editors in chief of fashion magazines。 But I just didn’t
understand why。 From everything I’d seen so far； each one was
humiliated； degraded； and generally abused by their direct superior；
only to turn around and do it to those under them the second they
got promoted。 And all of it so they could say； at the end of the
long and exhausting climb； that they’d gotten to sit in the front
row at Yves Saint…Laurent’s couture show and had scored a few free
Prada bags along the way？
Time to just agree。 “I know；” I sighed； surrendering to her
insistence。 “I just hope you know that you’re doing her the favor by
putting up with her shit； not the other way around。”
I expected a quick counter…attack； but Emily grinned。 “You know how
I just told her like a hundred times that her Thursday hair and
makeup were confirmed？”
I nodded。 She looked positively giddy。
“I was totally lying。 I didn’t call a single person or confirm
anything！” She practically sang the last part。
“Emily！ Are you serious？ What are you going to do now？ You just
swore up and down that you’d personally confirmed it。” For the first
time since starting work； I wanted to hug the girl。
“Andy； be serious。 Do you honestly think that any sane person is
going to say no to doing her hair and makeup？ It could make his
whole career—he’d be crazy to turn her down。 I’m sure the guy was
planning to do it all along。 He was probably just rearranging his
travel plans or something。 I don’t have to confirm with him； because
I’m that sure he’ll do it。 How could henot ？ She’s Miranda
Priestly！”
Now I thought I would cry； but instead I just said； “So what do I
need to know to hire this new nanny？ I should probably get started
right away。”
“Yeah；” she agreed； still looking delighted with her own cleverness。
“That’s probably a good idea。”
The first girl I interviewed for the nanny position looked
positively shell…shocked。
“Oh my god！” she’d howled when I asked her over the phone if she’d
mind ing to the office to meet with me。 “Oh my god！ Are you
serious？ Oh my god！”
“Um； is that a yes or a no？”
“God； yes。 Yes； yes； yes！ ToRunway ？ Oh my god。 Wait until I tell my
friends。 They’ll die。 They’ll absolutely die。 Just tell me where to
be and when。”
“You understand that Miranda’s away right now； so you won’t be
meeting with her； right？”
“Yep。 Totally。”
“And you also know that the job is being a nanny to Miranda’s two
daughters； right？ That it won’t have anything to do withRunway ？”
She sighed as if to resign herself to the sad； unfortunate fact。
“Yes； of course。 A nanny； I totally get it。”
Well； she hadn’t really gotten it； because even though she looked
the part （tall； impeccably groomed； reasonably well dressed； and
seriously underfed）； she kept asking which parts of the job would
require her to be at the office。
I shot her a specialty Withering； but she didn’t seem to notice。
“Um； none。 Remember； we talked about this？ I’m just doing some
initial screening for Miranda； and we just happen to be doing it in
the office。 But that’s it。 Her twins don’t live here； you know？”
“Right； right；” she’d agreed； but I’d already nixed her。
The next three the agency had waiting in the reception area weren’t
much better。 Physically； all fit the Miranda profile—the agency
really did know exactly what she wanted—but not one had what I’d be
looking for in a nanny who’d be taking care of my future niece or
nephew； the standard I’d set for the process。 One had a master’s in
child development from Cornell but glazed over when I tried to
describe the subtle ways this job might be different from others
she’d held。 Another had dated a famous NBA player； which she felt
gave her “insight into celebrity。” But when I’d asked her if she’d
ever worked with the children of celebrities； she’d instinctively
wrinkled her nose and informed me that “famous people’s kids always
have； like； major issues。” Nixed。 The third and most promising had
grown up in Manhattan and had just graduated from Middlebury and
wanted to spend a year as a nanny to save some money for a trip to
Paris。 When I asked if that meant she spoke French； she nodded。 The
only problem was that she was a city girl through and through and
therefore didn’t have a driver’s license。 Was she willing to learn？
I’d asked。 No； she’d answered。 She didn’t believe that the streets
needed another car clogging them。 Nix number three。 I spent the rest
of the day trying to figure out a tactful way of telling Miranda
that if a girl is attractive； athletic； fortable with celebrity；
lives in Manhattan； has a driver’s license； can swim； has an
advanced degree； speaks French； and is pletely and entirely
flexible with her time； then chances are she does not want to be a
nanny。
She must have read my mind； because the phone rang immediately。 I
did a few calculations and realized that Miranda would have just
landed at de Gaulle； and a quick glance at the second…by…second
itinerary Emily had so painstakingly constructed showed she would
now be in the car on her way to the Ritz。