Terkel's observation cuts deeper than the usual complaint about tedious work—he's suggesting that underemployment of the spirit is a form of invisibility we accept without protest. A bank teller with a gift for counsel, a factory worker whose mind hungers for problems to solve, a receptionist brimming with organizational brilliance: these people aren't merely bored, they're operating in professional spaces too cramped for who they actually are. What makes this particular sting is that we've made our peace with it, treating such mismatch as inevitable rather than tragic. The real waste, Terkel reminds us, isn't lost productivity but the daily small deaths of people's fuller selves.