At Saks, Sarah struggles under a mountain of pink bath robes and drops them on a table in front of on older, professional looking woman. "Okay, ten robes," Sarah says breathlessly. The woman is not pleased, "No, no, no. Terrycloth, Sarah, these are chenille. The client wants the logo embroidered on the left-hand pocket." Sarah argues, "Yeah, I know, but these are the same price and you can embroider it discreetly on the sleeve because, let's face it, no one wants --" The woman interrupts her: "Sarah, I am the personal shopper with fifteen years' experience, you are the assistant with fifteen minutes'. 'Assistant' derives from the word 'assist,' as in to help, as in to do what you are told. Do you see how that works?" I think Sarah has found a boss who equals her in being a sugar-coated bitch. Ah, the sweet taste of vindication. A trendy-looking blonde walks over and says, "Pauline, I need your ear." This must be one of Pauline, Personal Shopper Extraordinaire's clients. Trendy blonde says she doesn't like the airplane clocks Pauline picked out for Christmas gifts. Pauline explains that "retro is in -- a magazine like Jody will look hip giving them out." Trendy Blonde says, "In theory, but these gifts are for our Internet division. You know, guys with international clocks on their laptops? We really need to come up with something, I don't know, better?" Man, the holidays really do bring out the nasty in everyone. Of course, Sarah, prodigy at every task she takes on, pipes up with a suggestion, "Well, how about a Palm Pilot? You know, one of those electronic gizmos to help organize your life." Pauline glares at Sarah: "Assist, Sarah, remember?" Didn't anyone ever tell Sarah that it's a really bad career move to make your boss look bad? But Trendy Blonde likes Sarah's suggestion: "But that's perfect. I also have to get twenty-five gifts for our freelance writers. Thoughts?" Again, Sarah comes shining through, "Pewter typewriter paperweights? Whoo, that's hard to say!" she suggests, and smiles self-deprecatingly. Pewter typewriter paperweights? Oh, yes, pewter typewriter dust-catchers. Who even uses paperweights anymore, except to clutter up their desks? Dear Santa: Don't send me anything Sarah-Elf picks out, ever. Her taste sucks. Love, keckler. And while we're on the subject of Sarah's gift suggestions, let me just say that no magazine in my experience has enough money to shell out $350 per person for Palm Pilots. Unless, of course, that magazine's Christmas wish is to file for Chapter 11. Trendy Blonde, though, is thrilled with Sarah: "You know, Pauline, you've obviously got a lot on your plate, and you seem to have trained Sarah really well. So, do you mind if I borrow her to take care of our account?" Sarah, with stars in her eyes, says, "Me?" Trendy Blonde says, "I've got a twenty thousand-dollar budget and three days to spend it, want to go shopping?" Sarah giggles and they walk off together while Pauline struggles to keep the robes from falling to the floor.