(This makes me laugh partly because I was once treated this way by the curator of the Polish American Museum of Chicago.
The place was utterly empty on a Wednesday afternoon and deathly silent as he grudgingly fulfilled my request that he translate some 1930s Polish newspaper obits for a big newspaper story I was doing.
After an hour or so of this, the phone rang. It was a reporter from the Chicago Tribune, confirming spelling of some eye chart of a Polish name.
“GOD,” the man huffed when he put down the phone. “IT’S NONSTOP.”)
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