Breaking free from the religion of food worship takes drastic measures.
I cannot recommend eating dog food before a job interview.
That was the only thing on my mind—and in my stomach—as I sat outside the office, waiting for my interviewer to call me in. Purina kibble tastes like a horse barn smells; it’s extremely pungent with a sour kick towards the end that makes it hard to swallow. Four days into a diet consisting entirely of dog food and supplemental peanut butter, I was on edge. I was sweating with the kind of perspiration that plagues people with low blood sugar. I had shakes that were separate from nerves. For lack of a cleaner phrase, I was a hot mess.
Small-scale print companies are fighting an industrial certainty: their world is fading.
For Brad Scull, the slow death of print is felt in every aspect of his life. As the second owner of a midrange print shop in the suburbs of Chicago, he’s seen the fall-off firsthand — measured not only in red and black, but in scrapped vacation days, thinner college funds, and unpaid overtime.
It was Scull’s father, Phil, who started Yorke Printe Shoppe almost 50 years ago, but he’d be hard-pressed to recognize the industrial progress it has made since. The shop is divided into two worlds: the office and the floor. The office is placid and well-dressed; it smells like donuts and clean carpet. The floor is a maze fused with a warehouse, and its chaos is a stark difference from the former room, though the two are merely a door apart. The constant churning of four different presses, each with their signature hum and electronic tune, bounces off of the walls.