Back in the day, long before I would dare label myself a “media mogul,” washing dishes was my evening duty. Four nights a week you could have found me in a sweltering kitchen of a Mexican restaurant known as “The Nook.” It wasn’t uncommon for me to diligently scrape 2,3,… sometimes even 4 soggy enchiladas off of a platter plate simultaneously. The most famous entre was called a Tijuana Bypass, which always reminded of triple bypass surgery. (Word on the street is that two don’t coincide, and I’m not just saying that for the benefit of Chef Brett.)
As Mike Rowe probably knows best, “it’s a dirty job, but somebody has gotta do it.” Oh, not only did I do it, but I loved it. Friends were there with me all of the time, my favorite music always played in the background and the pay was great for a sixteen-year old.
While my co-workers feverishly tried to get promoted from the dishes, I remained there content as a dog with a brand new bone to chew on. Those dishes and I had somethin’ special, unlike my relationship with the garbage disposal (but thats another story). Through word of mouth, the restaurant became popular among the high school crowd. People would casually enter the kitchen, just to hang out and watch excess taco lettuce fly to the floor in what seemed like a pre-meditated occurrence. Part of my dishwashing aura was that I was quick. If there weren’t any dishes for the cooks, then I simply wasn’t payin’ any justice to the underrated world of dish doggin’; so I made a point to get those heavy saucers into the hands of the cooks stat. A freakin’ beast with the dishes is what I spent my teenage years aspiring to be. Others tried, but to no avail to keep up with me. Some didn’t want to get their clothes dirty while another group of useless wannabe’s treated a dirty plate like a piece of colored toilet paper -they stared at it for hours, confused, then finally wiped it off once I threatened them with a shower of stag dish water. Cruel, yes, but I’ve since changed ways. Enough rambling, the point is.. I knew I was a total bad ass on dishes. It has been over four years since I set down the dishwashing spray hose, and my legendary dishwasher status lived on….
that is, until THIS GUY stepped in. Ladies and Gentlemen, meet dishwasher Pete. I can’t wait to pick this book up to see what kind of dish doggin’ stories he has to tell the rest of the world. Unfortunately, its not likely that I’ll be challenging good ol’ Petey to a dish-a-thon any time soon – The Media remains my central focus, so the pruney dish doggin’ fingers will have to stick to my own personal kitchen.
Posted by mediamogul
Posted by mediamogul
Posted by mediamogul