Confessions of a Phony Telephone Psychic
When my family’s fortune suddenly went kaput, I discovered a talent for convincing unsuspecting saps that I can read the future.
Illustrations by Elliot Snowman
Every morning for more than three years, I woke up with the fear that someone would call me out as a fraud. The same scenario ran through my mind: A woman stops me on the street, grabs my arm and starts calling me a crook, a fake, phony and heartless rogue. Actually, there are so many words to describe what I did for a living that they used to echo in my mind all the way to work. But as soon as I sat down at my desk and picked up my phone, the bad words suddenly stopped. My voice changed; I held myself differently; I had a different look in my eyes. I felt like a brand new person. Because every time I sat at my desk, I turned into “Ella,” the successful phone-psychic, ready to offer her services.
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