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第16部分

时尚女魔头 穿普拉达的恶魔 英文原版-第16部分


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  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 

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