If you’re anything like me, you’ve woken up in middle of the night (at least once) to a nightmare that involves sending out your publication’s newsletter with either A. a typo, B. the wrong link, or the worst of all, C. incomplete. These nightmares are much like the waitress nightmares I’ve been having since my first job at 16. You know, the ones where you’re the only server in the restaurant, a family reunion comes in, and your pen runs out of ink? #Anxiety.
Recently, Vox lived that nightmare. Except this one was a reality.