It happened. Again. There I am, minding my own business in the dishroom just trying to update my Twitter, when all of a sudden the dishwasher haphazardly throws a bunch of silverware into the soaking bucket and a torrent of nasty disgusting water splashes back and hits me.
“Aaarrrgh!!” I yelp.
“Lo siento,” says Baby.
(Yes, his name is Baby, but I usually just call him amigo.)
“That’s alright. It happens.”
The water is disgusting. If a man was walking across the Mohave desert for two days with no water the whole time, I am certain if he came across an oasis that offered canteen after canteen of the water that silverware sits in before it goes through the dishwasher, the parched man would croak out a dry raspy, “No, thanks, I’m good,” before choking on his own tongue.
Baby doesn’t care that when he tosses the silver it may splash back because he is already covered in gravy, bread crumbs and apathy. Another drop of disgusting crap on his arm just means that the germs now have more germs to play with.
“Woo hoo, there’s a party on Baby’s arm today, are you going?” asks the bacteria formerly known as balsamic dressing.
“I might, but I was gonna see if I could splash onto a server’s face instead,” replies a butter slick that is floating on top of the water. “I feel like I always party on Baby. I wanna see the world and get out of this dishroom for a while. I’m gonna try to land on that bitch ass server with the fucked up Brillo Pad for hair, you know the one?”
“Oh, yeah, the one who’s always in here on his phone? He’s a lazy bitch, why do you want to land on him?”
“Because he never washes his hands or his uniform, so I’ll stay around for a long time,” says Butter Slick.
“Good Idea,” says Balsamic Bacteria. “Hey, did you know that Sally landed in his wine glass and he didn’t even notice?”
“Sally? Who’s Sally?”
“You know Sally! From the cutting board? Sally? Sally Salmonella!”
“Oh, Sally Salmonella! I loved that bacteria! I was wondering what ever happened to her. I knew she got out, but didn’t know how or when.”
“Yeah, it was just a couple of days ago. She was dripping from the cutting board and Bitch Ass Brillo Pad Head put his fucking wine glass right under it like the damn fool he is, and she plopped right into it. It was epic, man. As she was falling into it, she was laughing the whole way down.”
“Good ol’ Sally Salmonella. Good for her. Did Brillo Bitch get sick?”
“I never heard for sure. If he did, he probably just thought he was hungover, that dumb ass bitch. Good ol’ Sally Salmonella. Well, good luck on landing on the bitchy waiter’s face.”
“Oh, it’s happening today. Trust me, it’s happening,” says Butter Slick.
I step into the dining room and look I look down at my shirt to see it spotted with drops of water and I feel part of my arm and my cheek damp with grease. I am about to head to the restroom to wash my arms and face when a customer calls me over for more bread. I dutifully refill their bread basket and then decide that I need to also refill my wine glass. I had been keeping my wine glass in the dishroom, but a couple of days ago, it tasted funny so I moved it back to my old hiding place under the coffee maker and behind the to-go boxes. I think some dish soap may have splashed into my glass in the dishroom. It made me feel a bit sick but I just gargled with some vodka and felt fine the next day.
After I fill my wine glass, I get distracted because I now need to post the photo of my shift meal to my Instagram. It isn’t until three hours later that I realize I have not yet washed off the dish spunk. When I finally make it to the restroom to wash my hands and face, as the soapy water goes down the drain, I swear I hear a tiny little voice saying. “What a world, what a world…”