When I arrived at the Institute, my name was still Alice, I was still the daughter of an entomologist and a population control activist, I was still a dropout student of social work and a former waitress at a western-themed steakhouse, I was still the product of one divorced academic family, various embassy school systems, two state colleges, three-quarters of an overpriced graduate program, and a long, humiliating indoctrination by the American restaurant service industry.
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