The Dish

I'm starting to have dish dreams. Dreams about dirty pans and millions of dishes piled up all over the place. Water spraying in every direction. Total dish chaos.

Oh, wait, that's my job. Right. Not a dream. Awesome.

Dishwashing is by far the most bizarre job I've ever had. I've been a piano teacher, a receptionist - many different, lovely positions - but none have the strangeness that washing hundreds upon hundreds of dishes does. It is completely mindless, quite possibly the "easiest" job in terms of my brain, and it very straight-forward, no skill involved.

Rinse dishes. Put dishes in tray. Put tray in dishwasher. Take tray out of dishwasher. Repeat.

Every now and then I'll get a pot or a giant plastic bucket (do not ask me what those are for) to switch things up a little. Excitement galore! Ooh, I'm getting goosebumps just thinking about it!

The problem with the job, as you're all probably wondering because everyone thinks dishwashing is the perfect career choice, is that there is no order regarding the rest of the employees! The waiters dump dishes everywhere, drop things on the floor and walk off, the chefs put pans on the floor and don't tell me they're there or that they're eight-billion degrees - it's all just ridiculous. I'm going to suggest some sort of reorganization because holy god. Ho. Ly. God.

Sorry to ruin the fantasy of the perfect job. You'll just have to move on to dog-walker and/or luggage handler.

--Jamwasher