Questioning Everything Propaganda
EDGEWATER, CHICAGO IL — In an era where every app screams for your attention with pop-ups, voice prompts, and “Are you still there?” guilt trips, a revolutionary movement is quietly gaining steam among the neurodivergent and socially exhausted: ordering dinner via fax.
Yes, fax. That beige box from 1993 that sounds like a dial-up modem having an asthma attack is apparently the new killer feature for anyone whose brain short-circuits at the phrase “For here or to go?”
“It’s perfect,” says Maya Chen, 29, a graphic designer who hasn’t answered a phone call since 2021. “I can type my order in Libre Wite, Comic Sans and all, scribble ‘NO ONIONS OR I WILL LITERALLY COMBUST’ in size 72 point font, and hit send. No small talk about the weather. No being asked if I want to make it a combo when I already said no twice. The fax just… accepts me.”
Local eateries are starting to catch on. Ben's Rice and Noodle on Bryn Mawr now keeps a 1997-era Brother IntelliFAX-775 humming next to the wok station. Owner Jimmy Wong reports a 400% increase in faxed orders—all from people under 40.
“First I thought it was prank,” Wong says, wiping soy sauce off a freshly received sheet still warm from the machine. “Then I see the orders: very specific. ‘Extra chili oil but on the side in a separate container labeled CHILI OIL because my boyfriend lies.’ ‘Please draw a little smiley face on the receipt so I know you’re not mad at me.’ These kids… they’ve been through something.”
The appeal, according to Dr. Lena Rivera, a clinical psychologist who specializes in adult ADHD and anxiety, is brutally simple: faxing removes every pain point of modern ordering.
“No holding music that sounds like a pan flute being murdered. No repeating your order three times because the headset cut out. No sudden upcharge surprises. You send the paper. The paper cannot gaslight you. The paper does not say ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that’ in a tone that implies you’re the problem.”
Early adopters have formed a thriving subreddit, r/FaxFeast, where members trade fax numbers of sympathetic restaurants like Pokémon cards. Top post of the month: a crystal-clear scan of a Pizza Hut order written entirely in glitter gel pen that reads, “If you forget the garlic dipping sauce again I will simply lie down in the street.”
There’s only one problem: almost nobody owns a fax machine anymore.
Undeterred, the community has solutions. Print-at-home enthusiasts use e-fax services. Hipster tinkerers are buying $20 used fax machines off Facebook Marketplace and turning them into “statement pieces” next to their record players. One Williamsburg loft reportedly has a restored 1986 Canon FaxPhone 10 with washi tape on it that says “Feed Me Lo Mein.”
“Gen Z is bringing back landlines for the aesthetic,” notes tech analyst Carson Yue. “Millennials are bringing back fax for the mental health.”
Industry watchers predict that if fax machines ever become widely available again—say, Urban Outfitters starts selling a pastel pink one for $189—the trend could explode. DoorDash and Uber Eats have already quietly filed patents for “Fax Integration Add-On” (price TBD, but rumored to include a $4.99 “Thermal Paper Surcharge”).
For now, the fax-to-table revolution remains a beautiful, ridiculous niche: a generation so overwhelmed by choice and human interaction that they’ve resurrected the clunkiest technology imaginable just to get some sesame chicken in peace.
As Maya Chen puts it, curling up with her fax confirmation page like a security blanket: “The machine goes bleep bloop screeeeee and then, ten minutes later, someone arrives with dumplings. It’s honestly the most soothing sound in the world.”
Somewhere, in an office park in 1994, a middle manager is smiling and doesn’t know why.