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A taxi dispatch center converted from a residence. The owner’s wife lives in a room inside the dispatch center. I previously worked the graveyard shift. At first, I wasn’t familiar with the routes, so I would be called to the company in the morning to recite the map in front of the owner’s wife (but I was paid for it). The coworkers were extremely exclusionary because adding another dispatcher would lower each person’s salary and individual bonus.

By the way, the owner’s wife would stand beside you and give instructions while you worked, and fart at the same time—the kind of farting that is genuinely farting.