It was supposed to be a simple mic check. Tap tap... say something polite... maybe a “testing, one, two, three,” or if you're feeling especially bland, a “hello, hello.” But not me. No, not Scarlett Esmé The Girl With A Swallow Tattoo She Regrets But Also Defends In Court. I couldn’t just do my job like a normal assistant with boundaries and a future... no, I had to whisper—out loud—into a hot, live, very much on mic... “Well, at least she didn’t wear another white dress like she’s auditioning for the Real Housewives of Mars.”
And I said it with sass. With sauce. With the kind of inflection that comes from weeks of suppressed rage and a growing list of petty grievances involving Daphne Greer, her diamonds, her fake giggle, and the way she never says “thank you,” even when I literally hand
