The bench rules.
FOUR THINGS WE HOLD OURSELVES TO. THE STANDARD. PLAIN SPOKEN.
Four rules. The truth about how we work.
These aren't promises. They're rules. The kind you write on the workshop wall and check yourself against. Some are inherited from making things properly. Some came from getting it wrong and not making the same mistake twice.
Made properly or not at all.
Three versions in. Not because the first two were bad. Because we found ways to make them better. Solid mango wood. Food-grade stainless. Cast brass initial. Rope handle that actually grips. Every part chosen until there was nothing to add and nothing to take away. If a part doesn't earn its place, it doesn't ship.
For the men who own things.
Some men own work boots. A proper knife. A watch that means something. A pen that doesn't write any better than a Bic but still gets carried every day. If that's you, you already understand the CHUUG. It's not for everyone. Not trying to be.
Built for daily use, not display.
A drinking vessel is a daily-use object or it's a trinket. The CHUUG is on the bench, on the desk, on the kitchen worktop. Not in a cabinet behind glass. The wood develops marks. The rope softens. The brass dulls. That's the point. The thing earns its character by being used.
We're never finished.
Every iteration teaches us something. The V4 is already on Mike's bench in pieces. The Headkeeper started as a sketch on a beer mat. There's always one more thing to fix, one more material to test, one more detail worth tightening. The bench is never empty.
These are the rules. If we ever break them, you've got every right to call us on it.