{"id":234,"date":"2025-04-15T23:59:22","date_gmt":"2025-04-16T03:59:22","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/sites.temple.edu\/msp3196spring2025\/?p=234"},"modified":"2025-04-15T23:59:22","modified_gmt":"2025-04-16T03:59:22","slug":"customer-service-in-philadelphia-not-for-the-weary","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/sites.temple.edu\/msp3196spring2025\/2025\/04\/15\/customer-service-in-philadelphia-not-for-the-weary\/","title":{"rendered":"Customer Service in Philadelphia: Not for the Weary"},"content":{"rendered":"\n
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Urban Outfitters, Liberty Point, Alice Pizza<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\n\n\n

I don’t consider anyone who hasn’t worked a double on a national holiday at a restaurant a real person. I know I sound pretentious, but it\u2019s something I enjoy to live by. I\u2019m convinced that having the population work just two weekend shifts at a busy restaurant would make the world spin more smoothly. Working in the service industry is like losing your virginity; your life as you know it will never<\/em> be the same again. The person I was before going into customer service is NOT the person I am now. I\u2019ve seen some things over the years– things I shouldn\u2019t have seen. Things that I\u2019ll never forget.\u00a0 I\u2019m withered. I\u2019m jaded. But I\u2019m also more empathetic. Caring. Serving the general public teaches you about the world around you, and about yourself. In just three years, I’ve worked at three different jobs in Philadelphia, earning me a reputation as a \u2018job hopper\u2019 among my friends. Each job\u2014Urban Outfitters, Liberty Point, and Alice Pizza\u2014has provided a unique lens into the struggles of working in the service industry in a big city, from endless weekend shifts during Phillies and Eagles games to the dehumanization of workers by both customers and managers. Through it all, I\u2019ve learned how to stand up for myself, balance school and work, and navigate the complex social dynamic of Philadelphia.\u00a0\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I needed an easy job. Something to keep me afloat that didn\u2019t take much brain or body power. I had never worked in retail before, But I liked the idea of working at Urban Outfitters<\/a>. They were hiring extra workers for the holiday season, and it seemed like the perfect opportunity.\u00a0 Restaurants are never hiring at this point in the year, nor are they busy, so I decided to try something new. After all, I thought it would be cool to tell people I worked there.\u00a0\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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Urban Outfitters on Walnut Street. Courtesy of Flickr<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\n\n\n

Prior to working at Urban, I previously thought that people my age in the workplace had left middle school cliques far behind us– Imagine my surprise. Have you ever had a conversation with someone, and you\u2019re talking about something, and as you\u2019re looking at their face, you can just tell without a doubt that they don\u2019t care (they wouldn\u2019t care if your house exploded with your family inside), that they\u2019re just waiting for their turn to speak? I tried to talk to people out of boredom, but I wasn\u2019t interested in befriending anyone. I think people thought I wanted to be their best friend just because I showed interest in their uninspiring lives. Some of them attend Temple, and when I saw them on campus, they would always conveniently go on their phone right when we passed. This always bothered me. Sure, we aren\u2019t friends, we never will be, but you see me on a weekly basis. You know my name, you know my face, but you can\u2019t say hi? Wave? Smile? NOD? I strongly disliked how the people I worked with lacked social skills. I understood the employees at Urban Outfitters don\u2019t consider you important unless you have social status amongst the other workers. This did come as a shock to me, considering that during my interview the hiring manager said, \u201cWe\u2019re like a family here!\u201d I can\u2019t think of a worse thing to hear while describing a work environment; because somehow, the workspaces where everyone is \u201cfamily\u201d, are always the most ingenuine.\u00a0\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Hearing \u201cexcuse me\u201d from a customer gave me the same body reaction you get when you have a dream you\u2019re falling, and you jolt awake right when your face hits the pavement. I experienced real fight or flight situations: When a customer asked me if we had something in the back, would I actually check? Or would I pretend to check, and then say we didn\u2019t have it? I made $11.11 an hour. I wanted an easy job, and I got it at the cost of my own wallet. I\u2019m not afraid to admit that I wasn\u2019t paid enough to care. This place was like a playground, crawling with 12-year-old girls buying Go for Gold<\/a> tops, and grown men who still struggle to dress in a way that suits them. I decided two weeks into my new position that it would be the first and last retail job I would ever have.\u00a0\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Closing usually meant three to five people cleaning up, but one night, it was just me and a manager. I didn\u2019t realize I was the only associate closing. After cleaning, I went upstairs\u2014no one was there. No one was anywhere. For 40 minutes, I wandered, refolding already perfect displays, convinced everyone had left me behind. The store was silent, the lights off. I knocked on the manager\u2019s office\u2014locked, no response. An hour passed. I had two options: leave (without a key) or wait. I imagined the store being ransacked by morning, me to blame. I paced, checked the fitting rooms, sat in the break room, heart pounding. Who could I even call? Then I spotted the branch manager\u2019s number on the bulletin board. \u201cHi, Joe. This is weird, but I think everyone left me in the store.\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n

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Imagine being stuck alone in this place at night. Courtesy of Map Quest <\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n

I wasn\u2019t alone. My manager was locked in the office the whole time. Joe sent another manager to let me out. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhy did you think I left you?\u201d she asked. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Maybe because I hadn\u2019t seen another soul for 90 minutes? I explained how closing was never a one-person job, how managers didn\u2019t usually lock themselves away and leave an $11.11-per-hour employee to shut down a three-story store. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

They looked at me like I\u2019d just announced, \u201cThe Earth is flat!\u201d We laughed it off, but I was sure they thought I was an idiot and desperately wanted to never see any of them ever again.  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

I learned a lot of things during my time spent at Urban Outfitters: firstly, that I hate working in retail. Secondly, the opinions people have of you aren\u2019t true, and you shouldn\u2019t dwell on them. Sometimes, I just don\u2019t fit in certain spaces. And I am perfectly okay with that! Feeling out of place is an amazing thing. It pushed me to find another job that I enjoy being at. In April 2024, I put in my two weeks and was freed from the shackles of the retail industry. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

This was the first summer that I would spend away from home. Originally from New Jersey, my summers were always spent at the shore\u2014including my jobs. I worked at a Bar and Restaurant on the boardwalk, a job I still hold to my heart dearly. Being in the city, I knew I wouldn\u2019t be happy at a job where I\u2019m kept out of the sun. That\u2019s how I ended up applying for a position at Liberty Point<\/a>— an entirely outdoor wooden planked space with three bars, a stage for live music, and a second level where guests can overlook the Delaware river. While getting the tour at my interview I was instantly reminded of the boardwalk at home and knew that the summer I wanted relied on me having this job. <\/p>\n\n\n

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Liberty Point on Penn’s Landing. Courtesy of libertypointphilly.com<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n

I started off as a host: the face of the establishment. Being a host is fun, because you can control what servers get sat and when. Many factors separate hosting at Liberty and hosting at other restaurants: the space. Being outdoors with many different seating options, people loved to get picky: they didn\u2019t want to sit in the sun, they needed to sit somewhere with a view of the water, they needed to sit \u201cin the coldest place possible while still being outside.\u201d I don\u2019t think that it will come as a surprise that the people with the most requests were also people who didn\u2019t have a reservation. \u201cYou need to have a reservation?\u201d People would say to me, at 7pm on a Saturday summer night. Being the host, it was hard for me to find ways to politely say \u201cNo\u201d at first. When people weren\u2019t attempting to go past the stand and seat themselves, they were coming up to me and pointing out tables, asking to sit there. When I told them no, they took this as an invitation to bargain: \u201cThis is my first time here\u201d, or \u201cWhy can\u2019t I sit there? There\u2019s no one sitting there. (a reservation was arriving in 30 minutes)\u201d, or \u201ccan\u2019t you move the reservations around?\u201d I quickly learned that customers could smell vulnerability and would whittle me down until I gave them the table they wanted. People look at me and see a young girl. Which is true, but they also think that \u201cyoung girl\u201d equals easily manipulated. That might have applied to me once, but it doesn’t anymore. This job made sure of that.\u00a0\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n

One morning, hungover and baking in the sun, I watched a woman walk in\u2014crudely dressed, with a Brazilian butt lift<\/a> so big you could see it from the front. Not important, of course. She asked to sit at a picnic table overlooking the river. \u201cI\u2019m sorry, but without a reservation, the picnic tables are for parties of four and up,\u201d I explained. Only one was open, and the next reservation was in 30 minutes. She wasn\u2019t listening, just waiting for her turn to talk. \u201cBut that one\u2019s open\u2014why can\u2019t I sit there?\u201d I repeated myself. She looked back at the tables, then at me, and I knew what was coming before she said it.\u201cYou\u2019re not letting me sit there because you\u2019re racist!\u201d There it was. My heart rate spiked so high my Apple Watch probably thought I was finishing a marathon. But then I remembered\u2014I\u2019m just the host. This isn\u2019t my problem. I offered to grab my manager, practically skipping to the office. When I explained, my manager laughed and followed me back. The woman launched into her speech again.\u00a0\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIsabel is black. She can\u2019t be racist towards you,\u201d My manager started. I tried not to smile as she explained to her the same thing I previously said. This did not <\/em>blow over well. She demanded another manager. Conveniently, our other Black manager walked by. Cue the sob story again. She came up to us and asked what was going on. And then\u2014horror. My manager walked her to the picnic table. With a menu. Then talked to her for ten minutes. Then sent over a free drink. My heart rate went back up as she took selfies, alone at a table meant for four. On her way out, she even hugged my manager. Of course, the reservation never showed, so now she thought I was a liar. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

I learned something through this interaction\u2014first, that complaining and accusing people of being racist would get me an exclusive table and a free drink combo deal. Additionally I realized that sometimes your manager won\u2019t have your best interest at heart. Within the manager\/employee relationship there\u2019s always a thick, slimy layer that separates their manager persona from their real identity. They hide it from you, using it as a shield to stay scary and manager-like. When a customer is wrong, they\u2019re wrong, but that doesn\u2019t mean that they\u2019re going to turn down business just because one of the hosts is angry. From a business perspective, I completely understand, and I\u2019m not hurt over it. It\u2019s just how the world spins, and I\u2019m constantly learning how to spin with it.\u00a0\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I started serving tables in July– I was so excited to bury my host life six feet under. I had never been a waitress before, and this was the perfect restaurant to start at. I transitioned very easily and had a lot of fun doing it. Serving is a blast because you can bounce around to all the different tables in your section and talk to your guests about their lives, and then you can run away from them and talk to your coworkers in the server station. I met so many charming people from so many places: A couple who lives in Rittenhouse Square with their seven-year-old daughter. Old friends from New Mexico, staying in Philadelphia for a business trip. A couple recently engaged and planning to start a business. Many people I met inspired me with their conversation and truly kept me going while I was working those dreadfully long days. Sure, there was the occasional asshole, which I was used to. However I would never get used to the joy of experiencing kindness from a stranger. I got lucky to have amazing coworkers as well. The stress of serving the general public allowed me to get close with many whom I still call close friends.\u00a0\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A lot of the things they say about serving are true. I would wake up from nightmares in which I was at the restaurant, getting sat hundreds of tables within ten minutes. My legs are often melted into the floorboards, or I can’t remember how to use them, or when I can walk, I\u2019m moving at the speed of a snail. I\u2019m always looking down at my feet, which don\u2019t work, and then up at the tables, who are filled with angry people staring at me, ready to post a bad review with my name and description. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Work thoughts were always infiltrating my brain, about how I forgot to grab table 27 that extra lemon slice. Or how I put ice in table 44\u2019s drink when they specifically told me not to. I find it difficult finding a healthy balance between work and life; it\u2019s weird to turn off your customer service layer when your entire job is to serve others. I get lost in these jobs, thinking that I have to constantly give my all into everything I do. I\u2019m not going to be a server when I grow up, and I\u2019m most definitely not going to be a host. I\u2019m not going to work in the food industry at all. These jobs are temporary, and I come first. Not my customers, not my manager, not my coworkers, but myself. No one\u2019s going to help me; it\u2019s up to me to find ways to split my devotion into the different parts of my life.\u00a0\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Liberty Point is a seasonal restaurant and closed at the end of October. I\u2019m looking forward to meeting new people when it reopens and making scratch while being under the sun. This past summer I learned how working in a positive environment makes all the difference. Being able to enjoy the people and environment you\u2019re working in helps the work consume your life less. Although the physical and mental demand of the server industry is extremely demanding, having a positive mindset and an understanding of my position on the totem pole kept me sane, and taught me crucial things I will carry with me in life.\u00a0\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n

After Liberty closed, I lasted a month until I wanted a job again. As the weather got colder, money slipped through my wallet like warmth through an open window. I didn\u2019t want to serve\u2014I knew it would be too much to juggle with school. Retail never even popped into my brain again. So there I was, on Indeed scrolling through listings. I was applying to anything and everything, knowing I would get a response eventually. I got some responses, but only from the ones I applied to while I was in a fugue state. I took to the next place people use to find jobs: Craigslist! Between all the creepy Missed Connections<\/a>, I knew Craigslist would have some options worth considering. I emailed my resume to a couple, writing, \u201cI saw your listing on Craigslist and think I\u2019m a perfect candidate for the role!…\u201d\u00a0 mentally punching myself, hardly believing I resorted to this. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

I started messaging Alice Pizza<\/a>. From the ages of 16 to 18, I worked behind the counter at a pizza parlor back home, so this kind of work was familiar to me, and I knew I would be able to do it well. When I was contacted for an interview, I was excited, because I knew that this meant I got the job. I was also upset, because I knew that this meant that I got the job. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

I showed up for my first day, ready to meet my new coworkers and managers, hoping that we would all get along. The first day is always a whirlwind of word vomit about everything you’re expected to do. I got this job because I thought it was going to be a laid-back position, serving pizza behind the counter and running the register. To my surprise, it was anything but laid back. There were endless amounts of Italian desserts I had to learn the names and pronunciations of. There were gelato flavors, different kinds of pizza, and then the entire rest of the menu. They serve their pizza by weight, so I literally had to wield a giant knife and cut slices according to the customer’s preference. You can imagine how much I enjoyed this. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

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Various trays of pizza at Alice. Courtesy of Hoodline.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\n\n\n

When closing, we were expected to clean the counter, clean the shelves, restock the shelves, clean the gelato station, restock the gelato, restock the desserts, clean the dessert station, the panino station, the fountain soda dispenser, restocked the fridge with drinks, clean the ovens, sweep, mop, and take out the trash. It was the worst job given to me at the worst time. I didn’t want to sweep, mop, and take out the trash. I didn’t want to cut pizza in an ugly hat and apron. The place echoed the pizza parlor of my teen years in the most achingly painful way. I was walking right into the pizza oven again\u2014being controlled by my managers and crushed by customers.\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Alice is on 15th and Locust, a convenient place to catch all the excitement that happens after the Eagles win. I worked a double every Sunday, so I was always met with the pre-rush and then the post-game rush. Those were dark days\u2014ones I don\u2019t visit often, even in memory. The worst day of my life took place on January 26, 2025, when the Eagles won the NFC Championship<\/a>. It was like a battlefield\u2014my vision blurry, serving endless green enemies who were so drunk they couldn\u2019t understand the concept of pizza being sold by the pound. They thought that just because their Birds won, the world owed them everything\u2014and I was the one who had to deliver it. I\u2019ve worked Fourth of July\u2019s. I\u2019ve worked Memorial Day weekends. I\u2019ve worked St. Patrick\u2019s Day\u2019s–nothing compared to this. Chaos ensued outside just as much as it did inside. There were people climbing poles and big fights breaking out, and inside, customers yelling a million orders at me. I pinballed between the pizza, gelato, and dessert stations, my feet and my legs begging me to stop.\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The moment the Eagles won the night of January 26, 2025, I texted my boss to ask for Super Bowl Sunday off. To request days off, you had to ask two weeks in advance, which it was. I thought about the two possible outcomes: work a double on the day of the Super Bowl, which would cause a mental and physical destruction so miserable that it\u2019s difficult to put into written words\u2014or, have fun with my friends watching the Eagles play in the Super Bowl. I wanted the latter. The more I thought about it, the more I couldn\u2019t bring myself to think about the other option. I anxiously waited for my manager to answer.\u00a0\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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Eagles fans celebrate. Courtesy of Slate.com<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\n\n\n

Unfortunately, there\u2019s a rule that you can\u2019t take off the day of the Super Bowl. I expected this, but it was worth a shot. I decided that there was nothing <\/strong>in this world that would make me consider working a double on Superbowl Sunday. Not when the Eagles are playing the Chiefs, and when I live in Philadelphia as a college student. Memories over money. I texted all of my coworkers that were off that day. \u201cHiiiiiii Elena how are you? I was wondering if you could do me a HUGE favor. I really need off for Superbowl Sunday and am desperately trying to find someone to cover it. I will owe you forever. Please LMK.\u201d Everyone said no. Why would they say yes?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I was unraveling\u2014losing sleep and sanity that I would be working the worst day of the year and experience the greatest amount of FOMO<\/a> in my life. Quitting became immensely desirable. Schoolwork was piling up and my stress magnified. I went to bed thinking about my shift the next day instead of my paper that I needed to work on. I woke up thinking about my coworkers and managers hating me instead of the things I needed to do that day. Alice quickly clouded my brain with things that were unimportant in the grand scheme. I went in for my final shift that Thursday, knowing that I had to tell my manager that I wouldn\u2019t be working Super Bowl Sunday. Why did I feel like I was telling him that he had two weeks left to live?\u00a0\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Jobs do this thing to you where they manipulate you into thinking that the world will end without you working there. I hadn\u2019t been there for long; I wasn\u2019t that important to them. My heart dropped into my stomach when I saw my manager. My feet felt like they were being weighed down by anchors as I approached him. His little dog that he always brought in started licking my ankles, making the situation worse. My life flashed before my eyes as I said the words. I was honest: I didn\u2019t want to lie about a dead grandmother or having Covid. I at least owed them the truth, since I was doing something that felt so horrible. \u201cListen, I can\u2019t come in Super Bowl Sunday. I asked two weeks in advance, and I know that it\u2019s not allowed, but no one is able to cover my shift…\u201d He was so pissed off. He was staring at me with this wicked look and it felt like I could read his mind, his eyes screaming every word he was calling me in his head. I continued. \u201cThis is a terrible thing to do, and I don\u2019t want to do this… but I wanted to let you know in person.\u201d\u00a0\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou know we don\u2019t allow time-off requests for Super Bowl Sunday. You knew that when you asked, and you knew it when you didn\u2019t get coverage. …So you\u2019re not coming?\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

My face was so hot it felt like wax, dripping off my skull onto the tiled floor. I held my silence, answering his question. He held his gaze, not blinking.  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDon\u2019t come back after today.\u201d  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

This moment is something I\u2019ll never forget. I was terribly ashamed\u2014was I really doing this? Quitting a job to have fun with my friends? I nodded then practically ran to the staff room to put on my hat and apron. I felt sick during the entire shift. As I clocked out and stepped into the cold night, I felt immensely ill, but I was on a strange high. Sure, I quit my job to watch the Superbowl, but I also quit my job to choose myself. I would never forgive myself If I made myself work a double while the Eagles won the Superbowl. This establishment, these people, did not care about me, and I didn\u2019t need the money. What was left that would convince me to stay? I wondered why I make myself care so deeply about places that can replace me so easily. I let this job take a serious toll on my mental health and was fine with it as long as I was keeping my manager happy. Staying late, scrubbing the surfaces like my life depended on it, coming back from break earlier, treating the restaurant like my home. I let it quickly spin out of control so that my coworkers and managers would like me, but why? My heart made me feel like shit. But my brain knew that I wasn\u2019t the first and wouldn\u2019t be the last person to do this to them. This made me feel slightly better. I felt amazing when I watched the Eagles win the Super Bowl though, and when I was swimming in a crowd of green on Broad Street after; and I never regretted it for a second. <\/p>\n\n\n

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Go Birds.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n

I left and never looked back, and I\u2019ll also never go back to that corner. I\u2019ve since taken a step back from the restaurant industry and am working in a student worker position where I create instructional videos to support Temple University students studying early childhood education. This is my first job where I\u2019m not on my feet, catering to people. Every job has a purpose, and can bring meaning into this world, but when I\u2019m creating these videos that help teachers help students help children, I feel like I\u2019m really doing something powerful and worthwhile. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

I undoubtedly brought every lesson I\u2019ve learned from working my previous jobs, and it\u2019s interesting how I use my experiences in new ways in this current position. My people skills help me communicate with people and children. I\u2019m equipped to work under pressure and problem solve when everything that can go wrong, goes wrong. All of these experiences, all of these people, places, tables, coworkers, have given me so many things that make me into the person that I am today, and I am so incredibly grateful for the good, the bad, and the ugly. I take all of these little bits and pieces and view them as little building blocks in my personality. I don\u2019t know who I would be if I never got stranded in Urban Outfitters. Or if I never got accused of being racist. Or if I never stood for 12 hours serving pizza to drunk Eagles fans. I\u2019ve realized through these jobs that in this city, you must stand your ground to keep your sanity when it comes to people. I also learned that people are intricate, layered beings\u2014each carrying their own histories, desires, and contradictions. I\u2019ve come to see them as threads in a vast, tangled tapestry, weaving together the dense fabric of Philadelphia.\u00a0\u00a0<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

I don’t consider anyone who hasn’t worked a double on a national holiday at a restaurant a real person. I know I sound pretentious, but it\u2019s something I enjoy to live by. I\u2019m convinced that having the population work just two weekend shifts at a busy restaurant would make the world spin more smoothly. Working… Continue Reading Customer Service in Philadelphia: Not for the Weary<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":37081,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-234","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/sites.temple.edu\/msp3196spring2025\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/234","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/sites.temple.edu\/msp3196spring2025\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/sites.temple.edu\/msp3196spring2025\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/sites.temple.edu\/msp3196spring2025\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/37081"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/sites.temple.edu\/msp3196spring2025\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=234"}],"version-history":[{"count":7,"href":"https:\/\/sites.temple.edu\/msp3196spring2025\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/234\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":276,"href":"https:\/\/sites.temple.edu\/msp3196spring2025\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/234\/revisions\/276"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/sites.temple.edu\/msp3196spring2025\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=234"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/sites.temple.edu\/msp3196spring2025\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=234"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/sites.temple.edu\/msp3196spring2025\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=234"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}