While everyone knows the unpleasant odor from ABS cannot possibly be healthy to breathe in, most of us generally do not really care. However, not only ABS, but also PLA, may release toxic fumes known as VOCs (Volatile Organic Carbon). Not all VOCs are actually toxic, but some may be, especially for younger users. Before this becomes a serious health issue, a new study conducted by 3Dsafety.org, in collaboration with Italian 3D printer manufacturer WASP, has analysed the exact quantities of toxic VOCs – as well as potentially dangerous nanoparticles – released during filament extrusion, in order to assess the potential health risks.
The new study, presented by Dr. Fabrizio Merlo and Dr. Eng. Stefano Mazzoni, starts off from other previous research conducted in the early 90’s, which demonstrated that during the fusion and processing of plastic materials, several toxic particles are released as gases, including ammonia, cyanidric acid, phenol, and benzene, among others.
The lab tests showed that ABS is significantly more toxic than PLA, but that the corn-based polymer is not exempt form dangerous emissions, especially if extruded at temperatures higher than 200°C. Furthermore (as may be expected), the same material spools, when acquired from different resellers, release very different quantities of VOCs, even if used in the same 3D printer and under the same parameters of speed and temperature.
A second critical aspect is that relating to the emission of nanoparticles, that is, particles with a diameter smaller than .1 micron, which can be absorbed directly by the pulmonary alveolus and the epidermis. In this case, the emissions, when using ABS, vary from 3 to 30 times those that occur when using PLA filament. The test also demonstrated that the time necessary for the nanoparticle concentration in the air to go back to standard levels was between 10 and 30 minutes after the extrusion processes stopped. Through a photo-ionization technology, the study (which has been published on 3Dsafety.org and will progressively be updated with further information) was also conducted on nylon, polystyrene, PET and other materials.
Among the effects that the absorption of toxic VOC’s and nanoparticles can cause to humans, the most common are pulmonary pathologies, such as bronchitis, tracheitis, asthma. In some cases, these substances can also cause certain types of cancers, so this is not something to be taken lightly. The solution, however, is not too complicated. 3Dsafety.org, in collaboration with WASP, is working to increase awareness as to the potential risks of toxic emissions from filament, while several practical tips can be implemented right away.
For example, working in well ventilated rooms: the ideal solution would be using an air ventilation system capable of moving three times the room’s volume of air in one hour. This means that a room measuring 100 cubic meters should have a system capable of displacing 300 cubic meters of air in one hour. When using closed-chamber 3D printers, it may be possible in the near future to implement an active carbon filtration device, and the team is actively working toward development of a device specifically tailored for 3D printers, which can be regulated according to the type of filament material used.
Certainly this does not mean we should all just stop using 3D printers. However, dealing with the potential health risks of 3D printing materials early is the best way to make sure this technology evolves in a way that we can maximise its benefits and limit any risks involved.
These people have got a leg — or an arm — up on the future.
Thanks to the latest advancements in medical science, amputees are becoming part robot, with awe-inspiring artificial limbs that would make Luke Skywalker jealous.
These new limbs come armed with microprocessors and electrodes that sense muscle movement. Others can be controlled by a smartphone app. People missing limbs often tried to hide their prosthetics, but these New Yorkers are showing them off with pride.
Are these artificial limbs better than the real thing?
October 25, 2015
Photo: CSaw Studies
Rebekah Marine had the modeling bug from a young age, playing dress-up as a kid and getting her mom to take her to try out for modeling agencies in New York.
The one problem? She was born without part of her right arm.
“I was just kind of quickly denied from [agencies] based on my quote-unquote disability,” the 28-year-old says.
Then, in June, the Woodbury, NJ, resident got fitted for an extra-petite I-Limb Quantum from Touch Bionics, a top-of-the-line arm controlled by muscle signals. It’s the first prosthetic hand that can change grips with a simple gesture, meaning just moving the hand in one of four directions can activate a grip.
The arm is sleek and stylish, and the modeling world finally took notice: She posed for Nordstorm earlier this year and walked in her second Fashion Week shows this fall.
“I got some cheers. I think everybody was super excited to see the technology of the prosthetic hand,” says Marine, who also does modeling work for prosthetics companies.
But her favorite benefit of the prosthetic happens off the runway.
“I think the coolest part is tying shoes,” she says, adding that a friend’s 4-year-old son kept asking her to do it over and over again at a recent party. “He had a superhero robot lady tying his shoes!”
Are these artificial limbs better than the real thing?
October 25, 2015
Photo: Anne Wermiel
Daniel Bastian describes himself as a guy who “lives on the water” — frequently boating and diving off docks into the waters off Massapequa on Long Island. The 50-year-old wasn’t going to let losing his leg to bone cancer stop him.
After toying with various simple swap-in, swap-out legs, he turned to the latest development made by German company Ottobock: the X3 waterproof prosthetic leg. It was developed for the Department of Defense, so that ex-soldiers could have more active lives and maybe even return to duty. Not only does it allow Bastian to jump in the water whenever he wants, it contains an accelerometer and gyroscope that use the same technology as a Nintendo Wii or smartphone. He taps his heel a few times and the leg beeps and switches into different modes: a flexible knee for biking or a stiffer leg for swimming.
Bastian says deciding to let his limb be amputated was the best decision he ever made. Now he’s more active than some of his teenage kids’ parents.
“They gave me six months to live 35 years ago,” says Bastian, who founded his own prosthetics company, Progressive Orthotics & Prosthetics in Albertson, LI. “Doctors always want to talk about limb salvage. Having the amputation and moving forward became life salvage for me. With the new prosthetics, it’s just completely life-changing.”
Shannon Smith
A tragic infection and complications from a pregnancy in 2011 turned Shannon Smith into a quadruple amputee. But Smith was determined to fight back through a coma, liver and kidney failure and 17 surgeries. Modal TriggerShannon Smith “My son was already 3, so I knew I had to get back to some [kind of] normal for him,” says Smith, from Buffalo.
She got extra help from medical science in the form of two top-of-the-line microprocessor prosthetics by Ottobock that use electrodes attached to muscles to control the arms, and robotic knees from Icelandic company Össur that attach via suction. She can flinch the muscles in her remaining upper arm to control the forearm and hands, which almost feels natural.
“It uses the same muscles I would use to open and close my hand anyway,” Smith, 32, says. “The amount of pressure is what makes it close hard or soft.” She updates the devices’ software or adds new gestures by visiting her local East Coast Orthotics outpost in Buffalo and plugging them into a laptop.
There is one thing these robot parts are ironically bad at, though: communicating with other robots.
“The hand is still that material that’s not compatible with the iPad’s [touch screen]. That’s the one thing I wish was more advanced.”
Sean McHugh
Sure, there are skin-toned gloves Sean McHugh could use to cover up his bebionic hand. But why not show off a little, like on the subway, where a crowd will gawk and ooh in wonder at his articulated fingers? Modal TriggerMcHugh lost his hand in 2002 while renovating a house. “I find when I don’t wear the [cover], people do think it’s cool,” the 51-year-old Upper East Sider says. “I prefer that robotic ‘Terminator’ look to the natural-looking coverings.”
McHugh lost his hand while renovating a house in 2002, when a bad piece of lumber kicked a saw back at him. He tried a pincher hook first, which was helpful, but it hadn’t evolved much since it was first developed in 1912. About three years ago, he decided to try the bebionic from Texas-based Steeper, which uses electrodes attached to muscles to operate the grips, with individual motors for each finger and an automatic sensor that prevents things from slipping out of the hand’s grip.
“To me it feels very natural. I’m just opening and closing my hand, and the prosthesis obeys my command,” the office manager says. “No one ever ran up to me when I was wearing the hook and said, ‘That’s really cool,’ or ‘Can I shake that hand?’ ”
Are these artificial limbs better than the real thing?
October 25, 2015
Anthony Riaza, 44, still doesn’t remember how the accident on New Year’s Eve 2014 went down. He knows he was at work for the Department of Sanitation when a garbage truck ran over his left arm. He remembers that there was too much damage and doctors couldn’t save his left arm; they amputated it below the elbow.
All healed by July, he got set up with an I-Limb Revolution prosthetic arm from the Hanger Clinic on the Upper East Side, which comes with Bluetooth. Need to change your grip? There’s an app for that.
“It’s like an iPod they give you that comes with this prosthetic,” the Washingtonville resident says. “And you can download different grips, if you want to change them.” It’s got about 24 grips to choose from; he says he only uses about six or seven — combinations of fingers opened/closed, open palm, etc.
Riaza retired from the Department of Sanitation and is finally pursuing his dream of being a full-time abstract artist.
“I would like to be an artist again,” he says, “and I think it’s possible now, with the prosthetic especially, to be able to pursue that dream.” Larry Getlen contributed to this report.
Image: University of Illinois at Urbana-ChampaignPhotograph of the epidermal device placed on skin above a blood vessel. The soft, stretchable epidermal device laminates onto skin like a temporary tattoo to perform non-invasive, real-time mapping of blood flow changes beneath the skin.
Today’s best medical devices for measuring blood flow require patients to first show up at a clinic or hospital, then stay very still during the imaging procedure. But an experimental sensor that clings to skin like a temporary tattoo could enable 24-hour monitoring of blood flow wherever a patient goes.
A wearable sensor could mean the difference between taking what is essentially a snapshot of a patient’s health while he or she is at the clinic, and getting the equivalent of around-the-clock video of that person’s blood flow throughout the day. Testing showed that a flexible “epidermal electronics” blood flow monitor developed by an international team led by researchers at the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign can measure the blood flow in the outermost 1 to 2 millimeters of skin—even for human bodies in motion. That points to the possibility of a future wearable device that could continuously measure the blood flow of patients while they go about their daily lives. “Say you have diabetic patients and want to be able to monitor changes in specific blood vessels continuously for 24 hours a day,” says Richard Chad Webb, a Ph.D. candidate in materials science and engineering at the University of Illinois. “There’s no way of doing that today.”
The University of Illinois team developed the new wearable device in cooperation with the U.S. National Institutes of Health and a broader group of U.S. and Chinese researchers. Webb was the lead author of a paper detailing the group’s work; it was published in the 30 Oct 2015 online issue of the journal Science Advances.
Most state-of-the-art devices for measuring blood flow use optical imaging techniques that require patients to stay still during the process. Webb and his colleagues turned to flexible electronics technology to find a possible wearable solution. (One of the study’s coauthors is John Rogers, a materials scientist and engineer at the University of Illinois whose lab has pioneered many examples of biocompatible flexible electronics.)
Researchers eventually developed a lightweight, ultra-thin device that sits on top of the skin without distorting the blood flow it seeks to measure. It clings tightly to the skin due to van der Waals forces—the weak attractive forces between molecules. This attraction prevents any motion between the sensor and skin that could affect the accuracy of readings. As a backup, medical tape can ensure the device stays put. “Fundamentally, what we were trying to do was remove the relative motion between the body and detector system,” Webb explains. “That allows you to get to same clinical information [as state-of-the-art optical imaging devices] without the restriction of immobilizing somebody.” Webb and his colleagues built the device from ultra-thin layers of silicon, gold, chromium, and copper supported by silicone. Most of the sensor’s bulk comes from a 40-micrometer-thick layer of silicone. Each of the other layers has a thickness of just tens or hundreds of nanometers.
The wearable gadget detects differences in heat patterns caused by the blood flow beneath the skin. A 1.5-millimeter thermal actuator within the device heats up by 6 to 7 degrees Celsius to provide a thermal background for the measurements. That sounds like a significant temperature change for something sitting against human skin, but it’s below the threshold of skin sensitivity. The 3.5 milliwatts per square millimeter of thermal energy entering the skin is so minuscule that someone wearing the device wouldn’t notice the difference. Two rings of sensors around the actuator detect the temperature differences in the heat patterns with a precision within 0.01 degrees Celsius. Last but not least, computer algorithms help interpret the heat pattern differences as blood flow rate.
Testing with the wearable device placed above the wrist veins of human volunteers showed how it could work in practice. Blood flow measurements were taken as the human subjects stood motionless for five minutes, as they stepped up and down on an aerobic stepper for three minutes, and, finally, as they lied down on their backs. Researchers also compared the wearable device’s results with the state-of-the-art optical imagers to ensure that the measurements were reasonably accurate.
There’s still a ways to go before this experimental device could lead to a commercial wearable. The researchers still need to figure out how to make a version complete with a self-contained power source and components that would let it wirelessly transmit data to a laptop or other device, says Webb.
But once that happens, such devices could help revolutionize medicine by providing an unprecedented amount of data for understanding health conditions such as diabetes, the hardening of arteries, and general human aging. Such flexible sensors could also be placed on internal organs, surgical tools, or implantable devices.
For now, Webb and his colleagues continue to refine the heat-mapping blood flow device with the goal of making it smaller. A next step might be the development of a device that could measure blood flow through individual capillaries rather than within just the larger blood vessels.
After Gates and Slim comes Amancio Ortega, who built the world’s largest fashion empire, Zara. He’s difficult to know, impossible to interview, and incredibly secretive. An exclusive portrait.
Zara founder Amancio Ortega
FORTUNE — The motorbike roared up to the traffic light in La Coruña in northern Spain and stopped alongside a black Town Car. From inside, the passenger glanced out his window and saw the young biker leaning over the handlebars, jean jacket decorated with appliquéd patches, a throwback to the 1970s. The man in the car, decades older than the biker, zoomed in on the jacket. The old man grabbed his cellphone and, as the story goes, called an aide in his office. His eyes still fixed on the biker, the man described the jacket’s stitching, its shape and color, and signed off with a single instruction: “¡Hácedla!” Make it.
The light turned green, the biker pulled away; unbeknown to him, he and his jacket had just played a walk-on role in one of the greatest retail stories of our time.
Amancio Ortega Gaona — the man inside the car — is the third-richest man on earth. In this provincial corner of Galicia, on Spain’s windswept northwestern coastline, the 76-year-old founder of the Inditex Group has spent years secluded from public view, all while living in the middle of La Coruña, a city of 246,000 people. Among the millions of shoppers who patronize Inditex’s flagship brand, Zara, and have made Ortega unfathomably rich, few have even heard his name. Ortega has made sure of that, shunning social appearances and refusing all interview requests (including for this article). Until 1999 no photograph of Ortega had ever been published. MORE:Will.i.am: Corporate America’s hit machine
And yet, a world away from the glitz of Paris, Milan, and New York, Ortega has built a fashion empire that reaches into more than 80 countries. Beginning 40 years ago, Ortega ripped up the business model that had been refined over decades by Europe’s fashion houses and replaced it with one of the most brutally fast turnaround schedules the industry had ever attempted. Decades later Zara is the world’s biggest fashion retailer.
Ortega built his empire on two basic rules: Give customers what they want, and get it to them faster than anyone else. The twin organizing principles have made the company (and Ortega) into an unlikely iconoclast, more of an optimal supply chain than a traditional retailer. They are also the secret to Inditex’s astonishing success. “Very few companies can challenge Inditex at this time. The company is in a race with themselves rather than anything else,” says Christodoulos Chaviaras, a retail analyst at Barclays Capital in London. Tadashi Yanai, founder of clothing retailer Uniqlo, has made it his stated goal in life to beat Zara. And last August shares of the fashion company Esprit rose 28% on the day it announced its new CEO, Inditex’s former distribution and operations manager.
Humble beginnings: Ortega grew up in a row house in La Coruña, in northern Spain (top); his first job was in retail, at Gala (left), where current owner José Martínez (right) was his friend. Spain might be suffering through its worst recession in generations, with 24% unemployment and crippling debt, but within Inditex, the crisis might as well be happening on Mars. “They live in a different world,” says Modesto Lomba, president of the Spanish Association of Fashion Designers. In December, CEO Pablo Isla announced that revenue was up 17% year on year for the first three quarters of 2012 — that nine-month sales revenue amounts to $14.6 billion — and net profits matched 2010’s, at $2.71 billion. So far, the growth shows no signs of slowing.
Inditex produced 835,000 garments in 2011. A new Zara store opens every day, on average; Inditex’s 6,000th store just launched on London’s Oxford Street. There are 46 Zara stores in the U.S., 347 in China, and 1,938 in Spain. Ortega controls more than 59% of the company’s shares, and last July he overtook Warren Buffett to become the world’s third-richest man, behind Carlos Slim Helú and Bill Gates. The reclusive, enigmatic Spaniard, hunting for ideas from his car window on the streets of his hometown, is now worth about $56 billion. MORE:Jeff Bezos’ fashion foray
If such a fortune seems big, it is even more astonishing when you consider the man himself. The youngest of four children, Ortega was born in Busdongo de Arbas, a hamlet of 60 people in northern Spain, in 1936, just as the Spanish Civil War was erupting. The family scraped by on his father’s railway job while his mother worked as a housemaid. When Amancio was a small boy, the family moved to La Coruña. There, home was a row house that abutted the train tracks and that served, as it still does today, as the railway workers’ quarters. Amancio might have joined the rail service too, had it not been for one fateful evening when he was just 13. Walking home from his school, he and his mother stopped at a local store, where he stood by as his mother pleaded for credit. “He heard someone say, ‘Señora, I cannot give this to you. You have to pay for it,'” says Covadonga O’Shea, a longtime friend of Ortega’s who runs a fashion business school at the University of Navarra in Madrid and wrote the sole authorized biography of him, The Man From Zara. “He felt so humiliated, he decided he would never go back to school.”
Barely in his teens, Ortega found a job as a shop hand for a local shirtmaker called Gala, which still sits on the same corner in downtown La Coruña. Today the store feels frozen in time: plaid shirts, fishermen’s caps, and woolen cardigans. “Can you believe it?” says Xabier R. Blanco, a local journalist who tracks Ortega’s career. “They still sell the same stuff, and Amancio is Mr. World.” That painful irony is not lost on Gala’s owner, José Martínez, 76, who inherited the store from his father. He befriended young Amancio when they were both 14. The boys spent their afternoons folding shirts at Gala and riding bikes around town. Martínez does not relish his current role as counterpoint to his childhood friend. “No one ever comes in here to buy anything,” he says. “They just want to know about Amancio.”
By 16, Ortega had concluded that the real money could be made giving customers exactly what they wanted, quickly, rather than buying up inventory in the hopes it would sell. To do that, he needed to figure out what people were looking for, then make it. He would need to control the supply chain. Ortega had the ideal environment: Galicia. With few job opportunities, thousands of men worked at sea, leaving their women to struggle alone back home. “The women would do anything for a little money, and they were really good at sewing,” says Blanco, who co-wrote a book called Amancio Ortega: From Zero to Zara. Ortega began organizing thousands of women into sewing cooperatives. He oversaw a thriving production of quilted bathrobes for his first company, GOA. Mercedes López was 14 when she went to work for Ortega and says most women were thrilled to be hired. “The conditions were really pretty good,” says López, now 52, who is the textile union representative at Inditex. “We knew Amancio well. He was very close to the workers.” It was a family business: Ortega ran design, his brother Antonio headed the commercial side, and his sister Josefa was the bookkeeper. The company trucked in textiles from Barcelona, cutting out the middlemen.
With enough cash, Ortega opened his first storefront in 1975, two blocks from his teenage job at Gala. He named it Zara, because his preferred name, Zorba, was taken. From the outset, Ortega made speed the driving force. Decades later it still is. Zara stores refresh their stock twice a week and receive orders within 48 hours, tops. Ortega imposed the 48-hour rule in the 1970s, forcing him to open the first Zara stores near La Coruña. Many lined the well-traveled truck route to Barcelona’s textile factories. Even as the company grew, Ortega stuck to his two rules. MORE: Turning fashion video into a money-maker
It took Ortega 10 years to found the holding company, Inditex, and open his first international store in Portugal — whose labor force, cheaper than Spain’s, made it the next obvious place to produce; New York and Paris followed in the late 1980s. While Zara proliferated across Europe through the 1990s, much of the production was kept close to home. “Our roots have always been in manufacturing,” says Jesús Echevarria Hernández, Inditex’s spokesman, sitting in the company’s sprawling headquarters in Arteixo, outside La Coruña, with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking farmland. “When we come here, we always refer to it as ‘going to the factory.'”
The factory is part sci-fi machine, part old-fashioned retail — a well-oiled operation organized around Ortega’s twin principles. It is restocking continually at top speed. Inside, its high-gloss, white, minimalist interiors resemble a humongous Zara store. Along two arteries down the main floor, hundreds of designers and sales analysts work at long white counters in a vast open space, grouped around regions of Zara’s empire. The pace is frantic: Designers create about three items a day, and patternmakers cut one sample from each. Seated alongside them are commercial-sales specialists, each with regional expertise, who dissect tastes and customer habits using sales reports from Zara store managers to see what’s selling and (more telling) what customers are looking for. Staffers say inspiration comes from the streets, clubs, bars, and restaurants. Each is trained to keep an eye on what people are wearing, just as Ortega has done for decades.
The billionare now: As the semiretired founder of Zara, Ortega lives out of a seaside multibuilding residence; he and his daughter enjoy horseracing; a Zara store in his hometown.
At one end of the Zara design floor is a small team that manages Zara.com. There, flat-screen monitors linked by webcam to offices in Shanghai, Tokyo, and New York act as trendspotters, since countries and cities are not monolithic: Tokyo’s Ginza district, for example, resembles SoHo in Manhattan more than Tokyo’s business district. The obsession for spotting new tastes is pure Ortega. “We never go to fashion shows,” says Loreta García, who joined Inditex 23 years ago, straight out of design school, and now heads Zara Woman’s trends department. “We track bloggers and listen to customers, but we change our opinions all the time,” she says. “What seems great today, in two weeks is the worst idea ever.”
What keeps this machine ticking is the logistics department — “the essence of the company,” says Echevarria, who credits the system for such turnaround speeds in places as far-flung as Baku and Melbourne. At 400,000 square feet, the logistics building is more than three times the size of headquarters across the street, and is organized around a Rube Goldberg-style labyrinth of conveyer belts extending five stories high. It delivers customized orders to every Zara store on the planet. There is a firm 24-hour turnaround deadline for Europe, the Middle East, and much of the U.S., and 48 hours for Asia and Latin America. MORE: Can the Lucky jean guys get lucky again?
The unusual arrangement is pure Ortega. Though he officially handed the reins to Pablo Isla in July 2011, Ortega remains the company’s muse, inspiration, and biggest shareholder. Astonishingly, Ortega has never had an office. Even now, the world’s third-richest man sits at a desk at the end of Zara Woman’s open workspace. Ortega prefers touching fabrics to reading memos. “It’s as though there are no computers,” García says. “The directors are like that too now,” she says. “We all started here young and have grown up with Ortega.” Newer staff members say they are astonished at how often Ortega discusses colors and trends with them. “You can ask Ortega, ‘What do you think of this?’ It’s very flexible,” says García. “You don’t have to fix an appointment.” Asked what Ortega’s legacy will be at Inditex, Isla, the CEO, answered similarly: “The entrepreneurial spirit, the self-criticism, the culture: The company is completely flat.”
Ortega’s insistence on staying close to home and his ability to connect with even low-level employees raise an intriguing question: Would his executive style have been more hierarchical and conventional — and perhaps less successful — had he emerged from a privileged family and with an MBA, rather than from dire poverty with little education? “Poverty clearly made him who he is,” says Blanco, who wrote his unauthorized biography. “There was a hunger. Show me any great boxer who didn’t come from this kind of background.”
The floor of Zara’s logistics building, where clothing arrives from Brazil, China, and India, only to be shipped back out in under 24 hours
In semiretirement, Ortega now lives in a five-story sea-facing house in La Coruña, on a busy city street, with little evident security. He eats breakfast every morning (eggs and fries, say friends) with acquaintances at La Coruña’s businessmen’s club, and retreats on weekends to his country house, where he raises chickens and goats and gathers his grown children. A creature of habit, Ortega devotes weeks a year to hiking pilgrimage routes in Galicia, and his lifelong aversion to flying keeps him from traveling much. Antonio Grandío Dopico, economics professor at the University of La Coruña, who has known Ortega since Inditex began, says his old friend’s life philosophy is “absolute normality.”
Yet these are not normal times in Spain. Youths in their twenties — Zara’s key market — suffer unemployment rates of about 50%, double the national average. The country’s economic pain is clear walking through La Coruña. The commercial artery has dozens of boarded-up storefronts. The one bright spot is a renovated building on a prized corner near the port, lit up and humming with action: the city’s premier Zara store.
How long can Zara maintain its relentless expansion? With Europe’s slowdown, the company expanded in the U.S. and Asia, with a splashy opening on Fifth Avenue last year, and in September launched Zara.com in China. As Zara expands farther from La Coruña, Ortega’s rules might collide with the reality of shipping hundreds of thousands of garments a year back to Galicia for distribution.
Zara may change, but the man who built this retail giant will always be, deep down, a small-town hero. Once, when traveling to a store opening in Manhattan, Ortega watched as shoppers poured through the doors. He was so overcome he shut himself in a bathroom and wept. “No one could see the tears streaming down my face,” he told O’Shea. “Can you imagine how I thought of my parents then? How proud they would have been of their son who had, so to speak, discovered America, starting from a little town lost in the sticks of northern Spain!” This story is from the January 14, 2013 issue of Fortune
1. สร้างบริษัทขึ้นมาแล้วขาย
2. เอาบริษัทเข้าตลาดหลักทรัพย์
4. ทำธุรกิจอสังหาริมทรัพย์ (หรือสินค้าใดๆ ที่มูลค่าเพิ่มตลอดเวลา)
5. เล่นหุ้น
