only　then　did　it　budge。　When　it　did　begin　to　move；　it　slid　slowly　at
  first；　prompting　me　to　push　ever　harder。　But　as　soon　as　it　picked　up
  some　momentum；　the　glass　behemoth　whipped　around；　hitting　me　from
  behind　and　forcing　me　to　trip　over　my　feet　and　shuffle　visibly　to
  remain　standing。　A　man　behind　the　security　desk　laughed。
  “Tricky；　eh？　Not　the　first　time　I　seen　that　happen；　and　won’t　be　the
  last；”　he　chortled；　fleshy　cheeks　jiggling。　“They　getcha　good　here。”
  I　looked　him　over　quickly　and　decided　to　hate　him　and　knew　that　he
  would　never　like　me；　regardless　of　what　I　said　or　how　I　acted。　I
  smiled　anyway。
  “I’m　Andrea；”　I　said；　pulling　a　knit　mitten　from　my　hand　and
  reaching　over　the　desk。　“Today’s　my　first　day　of　work　atRunway　。　I’m
  Miranda　Priestly’s　new　assistant。”
  “And　I’m　sorry！”　he　roared；　throwing　his　round　head　back　with　glee。
  “Just　call　me　‘Sorry　for　You’！　Hah！　Hah！　Hah！　Hey；　Eduardo；　check
  this　out。　She’s　one　of　Miranda’s　newslaves　！　Where　you　from；　girl；
  bein’　all　friendly　and　shit？　Topeka　fuckin’　Kansas？　She　is　gonna　eat
  you　alive；　hah；　hah；　hah！”
  But　before　I　could　respond；　a　portly　man　wearing　the　same　uniform
  came　over　and　with　no　subtlety　whatsoever　looked　me　up　and　down。　I
  braced　for　more　mocking　and　guffaws；　but　it　didn’t　e。　Instead；　he
  turned　a　kind　face　to　mine　and　looked　me　in　the　eyes。
  “I’m　Eduardo；　and　this　idiot　here’s　Mickey；”　he　said；　motioning　to
  the　first　man；　who　looked　annoyed　that　Eduardo　had　acted　civilly　and
  ruined　all　the　fun。　“Don’t　make　no　never　mind　of　him；　he’s　just
  kiddin’　with　you。”　He　spoke　with　a　mixed　Spanish　and　New　York
  accent；　as　he　picked　up　a　sign…in　book。　“You　just　fill　out　this　here
  information；　and　I’ll　give　you　a　temporary　pass　to　go　upstairs。　Tell
  ’em　you　need　a　card　wit　your　pitcher　on　it　from　HR。”
  I　must　have　looked　at　him　gratefully；　because　he　got　embarrassed　and
  shoved　the　book　across　the　counter。　“Well；　go　on　now；　fill　’er　out。
  And　good　luck　today；　girl。　You　gonna　need　it。”
  I　was　too　nervous　and　exhausted　at　this　point　to　ask　him　to　explain；
  and　besides；　I　didn’t　really　have　to。　About　the　only　thing　I’d　had
  time　to　do　in　the　week　between　accepting　the　job　and　starting　work
  was　to　learn　a　little　bit　about　my　new　boss。　I　had　Googled　her　and
  was　surprised　to　find　that　Miranda　Priestly　was　born　Miriam
  Princhek；　in　London’s　East　End。　Hers　was　like　all　the　other　orthodox
  Jewish　families　in　the　town；　stunningly　poor　but　devout。　Her　father
  occasionally　worked　odd　jobs；　but　mostly　they　relied　on　the
  munity　for　support　since　he　spent　most　of　his　days　studying
  Jewish　texts。　Her　mother　had　died　in　childbirth　with　Miriam；　and　it
  washer　mother　who　moved　in　and　helped　raise　the　children。　And　were
  there　children！　Eleven　in　all。　Most　of　her　brothers　and　sisters　went
  on　to　work　blue…collar　jobs　like　their　father；　with　little　time　to
  do　anything　but　pray　and　work；　a　couple　managed　to　get　themselves
  into　and　through　the　university；　only　to　marry　young　and　begin
  having　large　families　of　their　own。　Miriam　was　the　single　exception
  to　the　family　tradition。
  After　saving　the　small　bills　her　older　siblings　would　slip　her
  whenever　they　were　able；　Miriam　promptly　dropped　out　of　high　school
  upon　turning　seventeen—a　mere　three　months　shy　of　graduation—to　take
  a　job　as　an　assistant　to　an　up…and…ing　British　designer；　helping
  him　put　together　his　shows　each　season。　After　a　few　years　of　making
  a　name　for　herself　as　one　of　the　darlings　of　London’s　burgeoning
  fashion　world　and　studying　French　at　night；　she　scored　a　job　as　a
  junior　editor　at　the　FrenchChic　magazine　in　Paris。　By　this　time；　she
  had　little　to　do　with　her　family：　they　didn’t　understand　her　life　or
  ambitions；　and　she　was　embarrassed　by　their　old…fashioned　piety　and
  overwhelming　lack　of　sophistication。　The　alienation　from　her　family
  was　pleted　shortly　after　joining　FrenchChic　when；　at　twenty…four
  years　old；　Miriam　Princhek　became　Miranda　Priestly；　shedding　her
  undeniably　ethnic　name　for　one　with　more　panache。　Her　rough；
  cockney…girl　British　accent　was　soon　replaced　by　a　carefully
  cultivated；　educated　one；　and　by　her　late　twenties；　Miriam’s
  transformation　from　Jewish　peasant　to　secular　socialite　was
  plete。　She　rose　quickly；　ruthlessly；　through　the　ranks　of　the
  magazine　world。
  She　spent　ten　years　at　the　helm　of　FrenchRunway　before　Elias
  transferred　her　to　the　number…one　spot　at　AmericanRunway；　the
  ultimate　achievement。　She　moved　her　two　daughters　and　her　rock…star
  then　husband　（himself　eager　to　gain　more　exposure　in　America）　to　a
  penthouse　apartment　on　Fifth　Avenue　at　76th　Street　and　began　a　new
  era　atRunway　magazine：　the　Priestly　years；　the　sixth　of　which　we
  were　nearing　as　I　began　my　first　day。
  By　some　stroke　of　dumb　luck；　I　would　be　working　for　nearly　a　month
  before　Miranda　was　back　in　the　office。　She　took　her　vacation　every
  year　starting　a　week　before　Thanksgiving　until　right　after　New
  Year’s。　Typically；　she’d　spend　a　few　weeks　at　the　flat　she　kept　in
  London；　but　this　year；　I　was　told；　she　had　dragged　her　husband　and
  daughters　to　Oscar　de　la　Renta’s　estate　in　the　Dominican　Republic
  for　two　weeks　before　spending　Christmas　and　New　Year’s　at　the　Ritz
  in　Paris。　I’d　also　been　forewarned　that　even　though　she　was
  technically　“on　vacation；”　she’d　still　be　fully　reachable　and
  working　at　all　times；　and　therefore；　so　should　every　single　other
  person　on　staff。　I　was　to　be　appropriately　prepped　and　trained
  without　her　highness　present。　That　way；　Miranda　wouldn’t　have　to
  suffer　my　inevitable　mistakes　while　I　learned　the　job。　Sounded　good
  to　me。　So　at　7：00A　。M。　on　the　dot；　I　signed　my　name　into　Eduardo’s
  book　and　was　buzzed　through　the　turnstiles　for　the　very　first　time。
  “Strike　a　pose！”　Eduardo　called　after　me；　just　before　the　elevator
  doors　swept　shut。
  Emily；　looking　remarkably　haggard　and　sloppy　in　a　fitted　but
  wrinkled　sheer　white　T…shirt　and　hypertrendy　cargo　pants　was　waiting
  for　me　in　the　reception　area；　clutching　a　cup　of　Starbucks　and
  flipping　though　the　new　December　issue。　Her　high　heels　were　placed
  firmly　on　the　glass　coffee　table；　and　a　black　lacy　bra　showed
  obviously　through　the　pletely　transparent　cotton　of　her　shirt。
  Lipstick；　smeared　a　bit　around　her　mouth　by　the　Coffee　cup；　and
  unbed；　wavy　red　hair　that　spilled　down　over　her　shoulders　made
  her　look　as　though　she’d　spent　the　last　seventy…two　hours　in　bed。
  “Hey；　wele；”　she　muttered；　giving　me　my　first　official　up…down
  look…over　by　someone　other　than　the　security　guard。　“Nice　boots。”
  My　heart　surged。　Was　she　serious？　Or　sarcastic？　Her　tone　made　it
  impossible　to　tell。　My　arches　ached　already　and　my　toes　were　jammed
  up　against　the　front；　but　if　I’d　actually　been　plimented　on　an
  item　of　my　outfit　by　aRunway　…er；　it　might　be　worth　the　pain。
  Emily　looked　at　me　a　moment　longer　and　then　swung　her　legs　off　the
  table；　sighing　dramatically。　“Well；　let’s　get　to　it。　It’sreally
  lucky　for　you　that　she’s　not　here；”　she　said。　“Not　that　she’s　not
  great；　of　course；　because　she　is；”　she　added　in　what　I　would　soon
  recognize—and　e　to　adopt　myself—as　the　classicRunway　Paranoid
  Turnaround。　Just　when　something　negative　about　Miranda　slips　out
  from　a　Clacker’s　lips—however　justified—paranoia　that　Miranda　will
  find　out　overwhelms　the　speaker　and　inspires　an　about…face。　One　of
  my　favorite　workday　pastimes　became　watching　my　colleagues　scramble
  to　negate　whatever　blasphemy　they’d　uttered。
  Emily　slid　her　card　through　the　electronic　reader；　and　we　walked
  side　by　side；　in　silence；　through　the　winding　hallways　to　the　center
  of　the　floor；　where　Miranda’s　office　suite　was　located。　I　watched　as
  she　opened　the　suite’s　French　doors　and　tossed　her　bag　and　coat　on
  one　of　the　desks　that　sat　directly　outside　Miranda’s　cavernous
  office。　“This　is　your　desk；　obviously；”　she　motioned　to　a　smooth；
  wooden；　L…shaped　Formica　slab　that　sat　directly　opposite　hers。　It
  had　a　brand…new　turquoise　iMac　puter；　a　phone；　and　some　filing
  trays；　and　there　were　already　pens　and　paper　clips　and　some
  notebooks　in　the　drawers。　“I　left　most　of　my　stuff　for　you。　It’s
  easier　if　I　just　order　the　new　stuff　for　myself。”
  Emily　had　just　been　promoted　to　the　position　of　senior　assistant；
  leaving　the　junior　assistant　position　open　for　me。　She　explained
  that　she　would　spend　two　years　as　Miranda’s　senior　assistant；　after
  which　she’d　be　skyrocketed　to　an　amazing　fashion　position　atRunway　。
  The　three…year　assistant　program　she’d　be　pleting　was　the
  ultimate　guarantee　of　going　places　in　the　fas