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A reader relays the following adventure in irritating mundacity, in which we learn about the secret, inner-workings of fashion magazines:

So I'm in the Starbucks on W. 58th across from the Time Warner Center and found myself in line behind two fresh faced young women (early 20s maybe) who must have been Marie Claire interns.

They had fistfuls of nice, crisp Marie Claire envelopes, each of which contained small amounts of cash and Post-It notes describing staffers' desired beverages. These were complex drinks of the soy-latte, no whip mocha variety and there were LOTS of them.

Glossy interns, money, and a Starbucks? After the jump, a fierce battle with a deadly snake will take the lives of innocents.

The poor young women kept asking the barrista to put names on the cups so there would be no confusion as to who got what. There was much back and fourth about how to spell the various names. Eventually, the young women gave up and just started throwing out initials.

When I got there there were two or three people in line. Ten minutes later, the line was out the door and the Marie Claire girls were still at it. The over-taxed Starbuckers finally added a second counter person to deal with the increasingly angry, caffeine-deprived mob.

This just raised all kinds of questions for me, among them: why can't these Marie Claire people get their own damn drinks? Why couldnt they just make one big order and pay w/ petty cash or whatever instead of going through this insane envelope routine?

We've included 2 HOT NEW FALL REASONS!!! Marie Claire staffers cannot get their own damn drinks:

(1) They're on deadline for that piece on exciting new pencil jeans.
(2) They have fresh-faced interns to do it instead.