Oh, How I Love a Good Personal Assistant Horror Story

Jennifer Vineyard at New York Mag’s The Cut relays the story of “one longtime personal assistant’s time working for a Hollywood household name.” It’s wild.

My favorite part is probably when she has to break up with the celebrity’s boyfriend for her, but this is good too:

Once I got called in as an emergency because she said, “I need to see my therapist.” So I had to leave my family and drive over and pick her up, because she was like, “After therapy, I can’t drive.” That’s fine, I get it: So she’s in with the therapist, and I’m sitting there in the car, reading, and I remember seeing the therapist’s name — but she wasn’t a therapist. Oh no. She was a palm reader. She was a palm reader that we got a discount for in the gift bag at an awards show. She was a psychic. And I was like, “I left a family event to take her to come see a psychic?” You could have called 1–900-whatever and gotten the same information, and stayed at home.

See also: Maya Mirsky’s interview with Amy Cray, less demoralized personal assistant to the rich and famous.

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