Out here, on this retreat, that distance has decreased to an uncomfortable proximity. We have no collective task to keep us on the rails. We have nothing to cue us our lines. As a result, each of us is gradually being revealed.
I got my dream job—social media assistant at DiPaulo’s, the world’s second-largest producer of authentic Italian pasta sauces.
It was a big responsibility. I wrote posts on Facebook and Tumblr and posted pictures of the sauce on Instagram. But most of all, there was Twitter. For Twitter, I created Pauley...
Tension mounted as the three judges, who wore 1920s style film director’s jodhpurs and berets, took their places on the set. Chef Gordon R. Crank stood in the center flanked by Gram and Joe Slick. The cameras rolled. Slick, with arms crossed, had his back to Crank. American viewers would be reminded that four of us remained as finalists in the most intense cooking contest on the face of the planet, on the back of the planet, on the sides of the planet and future planets yet to come...