Tekst 1.
AN INTERVIEW AT RUNWAY
She did not stand up to greet me. Although she was not smiling, she did not appear particularly intimidating. She seemed rather gentle and somewhat shrunken behind her huge desk. She did not invite me to sit down, but I felt confident enough to claim one of the uncomfortable black chairs that was facing her. She was watching me intently, mentally noting my attempts at grace and propriety. She spoke first.
“What brings you to Runway, Andrea?” she asked in her upper-crust British accent, never taking her eyes away from mine.
“Well, I’ve been told you need an assistant,” I started, my voice a little shaky. When she nodded, my confidence increased slightly. “And now, after my meeting with Emily, I feel that I have a clear understanding of the kind of person you’re looking for, and I’mconfident that I’d be perfect for the job,” I said. She looked amused for a moment.
It was at this point that I began to want the job desperately, in the way people want things which they consider unattainable. It might not be like getting into law school or having an essay published in a campus journal, but it was, in my mind, a real challenge – a challenge because I was an imposter, and not a very good one. I had known the moment I stepped out of the lift and into the office space of the Runway floor that I didn’t belong. My clothes and hair were all wrong, though more glaringly out of place was my attitude. I didn’t know anything about fashion and I didn’t care. At all. And therefore, I had to have this job. Besides, a million girls would die for such an opportunity.
I continued to answer her questions with a straightforwardness and confidence that surprised me. There wasn’t time to be intimidated. Then she inquired whether I spoke any foreign languages. When I told her I knew Hebrew, she paused and said icily, “Hebrew? I was hoping for French, or at least something more useful.” I almost apologized, but stopped myself.
“Unfortunately, I don’t speak a word of French, but I’m confident it won’t be a problem.”
“It says here that you studied at Brown University?”
“Yes, I was an English major, concentrating on creative writing. Writing has always been my passion.” So cheesy! I reprimanded myself. Did I really have to use the word “passion”?
“So, does your affinity for writing mean that you’re not particularly interested in fashion?”
“Of course not. I adore fashion,” I lied rather smoothly. “I’m looking forward to learning even more about it. I think it would be wonderful to write about fashion one day.
Things progressed with the same relative ease until she asked her final question, “Which magazines do you read regularly?” I leaned forward eagerly and began to speak, “Well, I only subscribe to The New Yorker and Newsweek, but I regularly read The Buzz. Sometimes Time, but it’s dry as dust, and U.S. News, which is too conservative. As a guilty pleasure, I’ll skim Chic, and since I’ve just returned from my travels, I read all of the travel magazines…”
“And do you read Runway, Andrea?” she interrupted, looking at me more intently than before.
It had come so unexpectedly, that for the first time that day I was caught off-guard. I didn’t lie or attempt to explain.
“No.”
After ten seconds of stony silence, she called for Emily to escort me out.
Na podstawie: The Devil Wears Prada by Lauren Weisberger
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