The Life Telephonic, Or…Why Call Centers are the New Waiting Tables for the artistic crowd.
Each morning, I awake at the buttcrack of dawn, get into my car while it is still dark, and drive ten miles to a large cinderblock building, where I enter through an unmarked door and proceed past high-technology to a small workstation in the back of the building, tucked away behind high, beige sound-dampening cubicle…
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