Twentysomethings

Go On, Quit That Job You Hate: Boston’s Food Scene Welcomes Disenchanted Nine-to-Fivers

An aggrieved cube-dweller looks to the future.
An aggrieved cube-dweller looks to the future. Photo: istock

From cube farms to actual farms! We’re loving this article in the Globe, all about young food entrepreneurs who hated their jobs so much that they traded security for the culinary life. And by loving, we mean that we wish we had the guts to chuck a six-figure salary to make banana bread croutons.

The article notes that, for Milennials, job security is bleak and the desire for “personal fulfillment” is high. So, apparently, more people are trading interfacing and dialoguing for sauteing and steaming. Take, for example, Nella Pasta co-owners Leigh Foster and Rachel Marshall, design firm ex-pats who “never had to think” at their former office. Now they’re busy making pasta in Jamaica Plain. (And, according to the story, they “radiate life.” Unlike those of us who radiate a frightening blue hue after sitting in front of Facebook all day, clicking “refresh” like Pavlovian robots.)

Then there’s young Lawrence Hester, a Brown grad who once earned six figures on Wall Street. At a dinner party one evening, he happened to do the impossible: The man turned banana bread into croutons. (“People have salads every day, but there’s no effort put into croutons,’’ he tells the Globe, apparently serious.) You know how this story ends.

And say hello to Travis Grillo, who abandoned hopes of designing sneakers when he “bit into a juicy pickle” made by his dad. He now sells garden-fresh pickles.

Twentysomething Julia Frost, who runs a catering company, says: “I feel terrible for anyone who would have to work in an office. We have so much variety in our lives. One day we are planning menus, the next we are in the dirt harvesting with a farmer.”

Hey, now, there’s variety in the nine-to-five life, too! Every day, our cubemate’s microwaved tuna medley smells a little bit different than the day before. We’re never quite sure where the Green Line will break down … it’s a new spot each morning! Need we go on? Well, we can’t. Because, if you’d like us to flesh out these thoughts further, you’ll have to send us a meeting request.


Forget A Desk Job
[Globe]

Go On, Quit That Job You Hate: Boston’s Food Scene Welcomes Disenchanted