Yesterday I coffee'd with an artist type person who casually let slip that she used to work for Conde Nast Publications.
Conde! (Expletive)! Nast! I nearly sputtered aloud.
That's totally cool! I gushed shamelessly, instead.
I guess it is, she replied with a yawn, if you're into worrying about whether your hair is good enough to ride up in the elevator with the high powered people who work in the same building. I was stick thin and a nervous wreck.
You mean..? I asked, wide-eyed.
Yep. Just like the movie, I kid you not. I slaved for years as a production pion. It's absurd what goes on in the ivory tower. The building in the movie? It's where I worked. The running for a coffee, lackey, invisible Girl Friday movie character? That was me.
Yeah. The good thing is that with all the kick-backs, I didn't have to buy any bath or beauty products for years.