Bobby Sweet's back has been aching. So when he hefts a 50-pound sack of Old Warrior flour onto his shoulder, his gait becomes that of a sailor treading the slippery deck of a ship at sea. Stopping at a designated spot in the backroom of the bakery, he bends his knees and twists his torso in one motion, letting the weight slide through his arms to the floor. He then pulls a single thread from the top flap and opens the sack, releasing a small white cloud into the air. Flour settles on everything at the bakery. Sweet is no exception. His white shirt and trousers camouflage it, but his face is smudged with the stuff, his... More >>>
| Next >>
By Jennifer Silverberg
Baker Bobby Sweet doesn't have a boss and doesn't punch a clock.