Case of the Exploding Ketchup;
The deafening rhythm of the Dish Machine dominates the pace of life in any and all dishpits. The clank of the doors, the whirl of spinning rods dispensing chemical laden water. The Dish Machine has its own hundred page manual, no more needs to be written here. Between the loud machinations is where we will focus our attention.
The Case of the Exploding Ketchup started simply enough. A harried server came in with hands covered in red, smelling sickly sweet.
"Damnit Desmond, it happened again!"
A short introduction: I am Desmond the Dishwasher and these are my diaries.
A short and sweet little thing, the aforementioned harried server, had long smooth locks that were teased into curls at the end. Her pleasant smile was a welcome addition between the hot and wet processes of the Dish Machine.
"I cant stand this," she said as red sweet pulp was being cleaned with the judicious use of generic brand paper towels.
"Its 3 times a day now at least, and its embarrassing when it happens to our customers. Not to mention all the ketchup being washed down our bathroom sinks, its worse than what usually ends up down them."
It was at this time that I was prompted for a response. No one really expects much from a Dish Washer. Most people talk at them or in front of them, but rarely to them. This was one of those instances where our harried server, Shannah was her name, was talking more for the sake of being heard than for wanting a response, but her gaze suggested that it be best I speak up.
"Want to use my sink? A lot falls down my drain..."
There was a step aside as she grabbed my sprayer and washed away the sticky substance.
When all of a sudden, "Ah! You keep this water hot, I think I burned myself."
"Yea hotter than most, helps me wipe away the remains of the plate."
"Gotta go back to the idiot den, mind cleaning this up?"
There was an exchange of a Ketchup Bottle, my first. The insides had erupted over the rim much in the manner of a science fair Volcano. This was the first of many Ketchup Bottles I was to be given over the summer. Little did I know that this was one of those hallmark events which defines a summer in the most boring manner available. One thing about growing older is you start appreciating the smaller things in life and one will attribute greatness to them even perhaps unduly so.
That last question was asked as such without any meaning for it to be one. As soon as the question mark hit the page in my mind she was gone and now my vinyl disposable gloves were to meet their final destination.
As I looked over the bottle I noticed two thirds of the product still remained inside. Apparently the ketchup that saw fit to explode was near the top end of the bottle, maybe an unnecessarily filled to the brim bottle. I didnt think much of the event at the time, but as I said before the Case began simply enough.
As it was the beginning of my week, I was only made to wait a few hours more for another exploding bottle. Towards the end of my shift I had made my way through our Back of house, past warm beer and a warmer walk-in cooler. Temperature controls were one of the more understated duties assigned to the Dishwasher. As I strode along there was a gathering of black clad men and women all sharing in a chuckle. The chuckle accompanied a story being told by none other than Wheeler, the bartender in charge of the Night.
"You should of seen him, the fat bastard had Ketchup explode all up in his face, and then started shaking it around," a momentary pause for irksome laughter, "got fucking Ketchup everywhere. I threw the asshole some napkins and he is still cleaning it up."
This was followed by laughter from his mesmerized audience. Most the black clad people were not aware enough to know there were better things to be doing, especially within sight of the ever vigilant cameras.
"Alright guys and gals lets get back to work, unless you want to upset the Don," said CW our floor manager. He wasnt entirely innocent in the previous proceedings but was knowledgeable enough to know when to cease frivolity.
CW's words had an effect that dispersed the crowds, and it was after that when I was allowed to gather more dishes who were to meet soon their time of reckoning. I paused at the coffee station to return an answer to Shannah, who was serving a cuppa in the most exasperated manner possible.
Letting loose a sigh, "ehhhh, they think its funny but that was my table..."
Again she fell into the habit of speaking at me, but this time I was ready with a clean bottle in hand and a question of my own on my mind.
"Here is your Ketchup Bottle back, second one in a day?"
"Huh?" Was not the most eloquent response but any response at all was welcome in place of the loud whirring of the Machine.
I thrust the bottle at her perhaps most forcefully than was appropriate.
"Oh, yea and everyone laughs about it. I guess its only started a few days ago, but it doesnt do anything to help our tips, and Wheeler just threw napkins at him...
I dont know why they think its funny, the Don will have our asses if he finds any Ketchup on the floor."
The Don was not someone to be handled poorly. I and everyone knew this, but sometimes the cameras which stood as his watchmen were more easily ignored.
"Ill make sure the floors are good before I leave tonight," I said and she knew I would not let a mess go uncleaned. My reputation for cleanliness was my only reason for thinking of myself as a deity, a Dishpit Deity.
Little did I know that this was the first day of quite the mysterious tale. With everyday bringing more news and developments I only had to wait another day for matters at hand to explode.