An "anonymous source inside the Condé Nast" building fact-checks my cafeteria report:

1. Vanity Fair does indeed take up two floors. It also occupies the 22 floor, which is accessible through a second bank of elevators. I have no idea why the two floors are separated; I am sure that you'll come up with a suitable conspiracy theory.

I did not know that. It seems, however, the VF editors have to go through the process of going to the second bank of elevators, which still puts the New Yorker higher in the Nasty heirarchy, as their editors are spared this annoying inconvenience.

2. I have never seen iceberg lettuce during my admittedly short time here. Romaine, yes (for the Caesar, which is what I think you must be referring to, but never, never iceberg). There is also always another bowl of mixed greens, which contains the mesclun you sought in vain, as well as arugula, radicchio, and other bits of green stuff I don't know the names of. Perhaps they were temporarily out. That shit goes fast.

As an aficionado of calorie-laden food, I must admit that from where I was standing I could have mistaken the Romaine for iceberg. My deepest apologies to the cafeteria staff. I'm pretty sure there was no mesclun, but it may have, as you say "gone fast."

3. It's Condé, Ms. Spiers, Condé.

Yes, yes. I know. It's just that typing "e" over and over is much easier than typing "amperand, pound, 2, 3, 3, semicolon" over and over again, and I assume people know what I'm talking about.

So that's my excuse: sheer laziness. But for you, notice that I did the extra five keystrokes.