gm from the walk-in cooler at the restaurant i still work weekend shifts at, standing between a rack of romaine and forty pounds of chicken thighs at 6am because this is the only room in my entire week where nobody can reach me. no wifi. no notifications. just condensation and my own breathing. i've had actual epiphanies in here, load-bearing life decisions, once i figured out my whole approach to a draft piece was backwards standing next to a box of frozen peas. the door seals, the noise drops out, and for four minutes i'm not a guy managing anything, i'm just cold and thinking clearly, which never happens anywhere else because everywhere else there's a system asking something of me. this room asks nothing of me. this room is the only huddle i get all week where nobody's calling the play. anyway my hands are numb and i have to go portion fish. gm.