Word: asking
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Dates: during 1990-1999
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...last credit card bill, and these experiments are a fun way to earn it back." And what exactly is Zettel expected to do? "For one of them it says I sleep in their sleep lab for a night, and they wake me up a couple of times and ask me some questions. Why am I doing it? They'll pay me $40 to sleep." Zettel will also be paid $50 to let them "take magnetic pictures of my head" and learn to meditate at $10 an hour. He's not afraid of any repercussions of these experiments...
...many studies, any student is qualified to become a subject, but some have specific requirements. Signs ask for certain races, native speakers of foreign languages, or subjects with no history of psychological or neurological disorders. One sign-up sheet has even more specific guidelines: only students who answer questions appropriately (including "It scares me when I feel shaky, when I feel faint, when my heart beats rapidly or when I become short of breath")--and are righthanded--are qualified to participate...
...recognizes people who speak on condition of anonymity. Athlete smokers report having to hide their cigarettes from coaches and teammates while smoking because it carries such a negative image in the sports world. On the other hand, some smokers don't bother hiding from disease. Kassam proudly declares, "Just ask what anti-smoking ads do for me: Jack shit! I know my lungs are black and sooty, but I'm addicted...
...enter Kirkland Dining Hall, heads pick up--male heads, of course. I pass by a female friend who normally says hello to me. She glances at me briefly, then keeps her head down without acknowledging me. When I ask the female dining checker where I can put the UC collection boxes, two male staff workers at the table near the desk immediately answer for her, pointing out energetically where I can place the boxes. She rolls her eyes and tells me where to go. As I leave, two staff workers stop talking to stare at me. I'm gradually losing...
...same salesman greets me as I enter, but remains at his seat behind the counter, flipping through a comic book. I wandered around the nearly empty store, passing the counter a number of times as though in search of a certain item. Still, no one approached me to ask if I needed help. Finally, when I neared another salesman, he politely asked if he could help me. The respect in his voice contrasted with the easy, presumptuously friendly tone of yesterday's salesman. I decline his help and left the store, feeling rather...