the devil works at tractenberg & co.

You know what, people? When I tell you I need an image that is 300 dpi and 1500 pixels long, I need an image that is 300 dpi and 1500 pixels long. Not 72 dpi and 150 pixels long. Not 150 dpi and 238 pixels long. 300 dpi. 1500 pixels. If I don't get an image that is 300 dpi and 1500 pixels long, YOU ARE NOT GOING TO BE IN MY MAGAZINE. THAT IS RIGHT. FEEL MY POWER.

In addition to chasing down 300 dpi, 1500 pixel images, I've also been assigned to (a) track down some colorist to interview about growing out color, (b) bug the people at L'Oreal for less lame product shots, (c) get a photo of Kristian Alfonso from Avon, which is repped by Tractenberg, OF COURSE, so that is never going to happen, and (d) completely re-write the eighteen-year-old intern's piece on The Devil Wears Prada. (Um, can I add femslash to it?) The Boss was like, "Yeah, by the way, if you could just work on this a little. You know, she has a good style, but it's not quite what we needed."

Me: "Okay."
Boss: "She doesn't really talk about the hair at all..."
Me: "Okay."
Boss: "I'll get you the before-and-after shots. And also she never really mentions Meryl Streep or that other one..."
Me: "Emily!"
Boss: "So if you could just do something on the hair, like a paragraph..."
Me: "Okay.
Boss: "Maybe talk about Anne Hathaway."
Me: (looking at the intern's paragraph) "But keep this, right?"
Boss: "Well, no."
Me: "So, re-write the whole thing?"
Boss: "That would work."
Me: "Okay..."

(five minutes later)

Boss: "Oh, here, I got the pictures of Meryl Streep..."
Me: "Okay."
Boss: "And that other one."
Me: "Okay."
Boss: "You know, the bitch."
Me: (petulant) "I love Emily."

Ugh. I am doing at least as much work as everyone else in New York City today. What the hell?

RU reading my journal?

I rocked the career services Q&A. I was asked more questions individually than any other panelist, and my prepared 15 minutes was the most organized, despite some re-shuffling of topics mid-speech. And I was the only panelist to consistently get laughs. (Is it cheating that some of my jokes were scripted?) It was so much more fun than I thought it would be, and I got to share my wisdom with the eager youth of America! Hurrah! Plus, it was totally like being a celebrity. I got a microphone and a bottle of water and mints and a little sign with my name on it!

It's funny, no matter how many times I successfully give a speech, or answer questions, or meet people, I don't think of myself as someone who is particularly good at those things. I'm always a little bit surprised. But maybe I should re-think the whole "go into nursing at 35" thing and go into career counseling or social work instead.

Being on College Ave was so bizarre, though. They were selling Pepsi!