“And now,” Shifra continued, “is a time that will test us all. Because we have a magazine we need to put to bed in 12 hours. And readers who count on us”,
I regretted the next few words even as they were still semi-formed syllables stuck in my larynx. “I’ll deal with everything.”
T uesday 5:15 p.m.
“Okay people!”
I looked up from my spreadsheets in annoyance. Shifra our senior editorial assistant strode to the center of room clipboard in hand adjusting her sunglasses to lie perfectly on top of her sheitel’s glossy waves.
“I appreciate your all coming down on such short notice. We have a crisis!”
I rolled my eyes. I’d been working at the Jewish Zone as an editorial assistant for the past three years alongside my friend Etti — we’d gone to high school together — and a group of other staffers most of us in our early-to-mid-twenties. Shifra had joined relatively recently but we were already used to her melodramatics.
Create a free account to keep reading.
