It’s loud. Not overwhelming loud, but the warm, family-dinner-at-home kind of loud where everybody is trying to talk over one another.
Women and girls dressed in black outfits line the stairs and check-in tables. They whisper to one another in excitement and point across the room at the man in the slick, navy jacket with a little blue circle badge on the left side of his chest.
The room is filled with the sounds of eggs being cracked and whisked in bowls. There is the smell of olive oil drizzling into mix.
Here at Grand Prospect Hall in Brooklyn, bread is being made.
Backstage, young singers prepare to perform in front of the massive crowd. But first they want selfies.
“You’re the Guinness guy! Can we take a picture with you?” asked one of the girls.
“Of course,” said the man in the slick, navy jacket.
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Alex Angert, the 25-year-old dark-haired man in the slick, navy jacket and the circular badge that says “Guinness World Records,” once shook the paw of Sailor, a black standard poodle that climbed 20 consecutive stairs on his hind legs in a world-record-breaking 18 seconds on NBC’s “Today” show.
Angert also took a bite from the largest sweet and savory cannoli in the world in Jupiter, Florida. It was 262.5 pounds, festooned with powdered sugar and large chocolate chips.
In Reno, Nevada, he watched as Cam Zink made the longest backflip jump on a mountain bike — one wrong move and the jump could have been deathly. Angert verified the 100-foot, 3-inch jump and logged it for posterity — or at least until someone else jumps farther.
He spent a summer day in Summerville, South Carolina, sipping from a 1,425-gallon glass of iced tea on National Iced Tea Day.
He met 440 Drag Queen Madonnas on Labor Day, the most drag queens ever in one place dressed in Madonna performance outfits.
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Angert’s job titles at Guinness World Records are “client services account manager” and “records adjudicator.”
He’s an ordinary guy with an extraordinary job.
He’s also a guy who keeps a drawer full of Gushers and a value-size bag of Sour Patch Kids on his desk in an office that does not match the colorful things he does. The carpet is gray, the walls are white. It’s quiet.
But behind his desktop is a distinctive montage: laminated press passes of big events he’s judged. He was present, for example, for the National Hockey League’s largest attendance (105,491), the 2014 Bridgestone NHL Winter Classic at Michigan Stadium in Ann Arbor. He was on hand for the premiere of Blue Sky Studios’ film Rio 2 in Miami Beach, Florida, where attendees participated in the world’s largest samba dance.
Angert holds the power to fulfill — or politely crush — the hopes of the people who seek the world’s most bizarre records.
He travels the world and across the United States to interesting places, he meets interesting people, and he sees one-of-a-kind things. And he gets paid to do it.
“I’m fascinated with all the stories that he’s telling us all the time,” said Alex’s mother, Susan Angert. “It’s amazing. It’s unbelievable.”
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Grand Prospect Hall is lined with long tables covered in place settings complete with large plastic bowls and ingredients needed to make challah bread, the special braided bread served on Jewish holidays.
On a chilly October night, 2,200 women have come together to learn about the bread’s significance and how to bake it.
As they work, an already-baked, mother-of-all-challah-breads stretches across the stage before them.
The event has been organized by a group called Project Inspire to bring together the Jewish community of Brooklyn. And to get challah bread in the record books.
Angert makes his way to the stage with one hand steadied on his oversized black briefcase. Inside the briefcase is a Guinness World Record certificate – “just in case it’s successful,” Angert tells a reporter.
A young man with curly brown hair surrounding his black yarmulke on the crown of his head approaches Angert with an iPhone in one hand and crinkled papers clenched in the other.
“Here are the eyewitness forms you asked for,” he says. “And we used a GoPro to videotape the actual making of the bread, here.”
In the video, bakers march in and out of the frame making the long loaf of challah bread that now sits on stage. They knead, braid and butter six long strips of dough and shuttle it into a specially constructed oven.
Backstage, Angert had gone through a checklist. He needed to be sure there was proof of the bread being made, since it wasn’t happening live at the event; the video on the iPhone provided this proof. He needed to confirm that the bread would be consumed and not thrown out — a Guinness World Record rule for food-record attempts. And he had measured the bread — a “pre-measurement,” since the official measurement will be on stage.
“How long is it?” a woman asks. “Did they do it? Did they break the record?”
Angert smiles politely.
“You’ll have to wait for the adjudication presentation to find out,” he says.
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