Dirty dishes are gross. The people who are dirtying these dishes are not thinking about the person who has to wash them. Cooks and dough makers would happily toss things in my wash water that were simply indescribable. I’d clean out big clumps of junk from the sink drain. I washed mounds of dirty dishes nightly. My feet hurt and my clothes smelled disgusting. Every bone in my body felt what starting over was like.
By Holly Herring
People like me tend to wind up in the Dish Pit at least once in their lifetime.
When I say “people like me,” I mean people who have overcome adversity. I always thought of working as a dishwasher as being pretty low. The Dishwasher is the ultimate entry level position to an industry that, honestly, has some pretty messy job opportunities. It’s the position that is paid the least, gets the dirtiest, often receives zero tips and receives little acknowledgement for a job well done.
A few years ago I had survived a really low point in my own life.
It started with another person abusing me and ended in me abusing myself. I got really, really low. Admittedly, I was arrested and as I left the jail I decided I needed to make some changes. One of those changes would involve employment, and I hadn’t had a job in several years.
I would need to start at the bottom.
When a pizza delivery job was willing to take me on I decided to take it. Little did I know that it would largely be a dishwashing job with a couple pizza deliveries thrown in as a dangling carrot.
I knew three things about myself.
1 – I was actually pretty good at washing dishes.
2 – I was not a teenager and I would be working with lots of them.
3 – I had done much worse than washing dishes for a tiny bit of money in my life.
I decided that I could do this for a little while.
Dirty dishes are gross. The people who are dirtying these dishes are not thinking about the person who has to wash them. Cooks and dough makers would happily toss things in my wash water that were simply indescribable. I’d clean out big clumps of junk from the sink drain. I washed mounds of dirty dishes nightly. My feet hurt and my clothes smelled disgusting. Every bone in my body felt what starting over was like.
Starting over sucked.
After a couple weeks in the Dish Pit, I started noticing that other dishwashers did not seem to take pride in their work. I would be arranging dishes on shelves and sometimes they would feel greasy to the touch. I started taking dishes down and rewashing them. Pretty soon after, I would offer to let the others take my very rare, tipped pizza deliveries and stay behind just so that the dishes would be washed well and put in the right places on the dish racks.
I had begun to take pride in my work.
Dishwashing became a game for me, like Tetris—I became very organized when I approached the sink at the beginning of my shift. I had caught on that the owner poured bleach in the dishwater, which I was allergic to, and I’d immediately drain the sink and draw fresh water. While it ran I’d scrape old food off dishes and stack them in a particular order. I had learned how to separate a stack of wet beer pint glasses without breaking them. I washed in a certain order and I picked up speed in the Dish Pit. I would leave at the end of the night feeling accomplished.
It was as if I entered the pit each night as a dish gladiator and the goal was to conquer the hot, soapy hell I worked in.
Over time I learned to enjoy doing dishes. It taught me that if I was mindful of the task at hand, I could do the job in a way that I would be proud to eat at that restaurant. I felt more self-respect for myself after I finally retired from my dishwashing duties than I had before. I exited the Dish Pit a better, stronger, more confident person. I had the respect of the owner, who always scheduled me to work the busiest nights.
For people who are recovering from things—anything, lots of things—the Dish Pit seems like the worst imaginable job to wind up in. In the moment, it seems as if things have just gotten worse. But when you talk to people who unexpectedly found themselves in those Dish Pits, they will tell you that there is recovery in the Dish Pit. Because I washed dishes until I mastered the art, I knew that anything else out there was doable.
Not everybody’s Dish Pit has a 3-part sink and suds.
No, some people’s Dish Pit has a broom and a toilet plunger. Some have a shovel. But if you stay until you master your Dish Pit, they all have recovery at the end.
“When you are washing the dishes, washing the dishes must be the most important thing in your life.”
-Thich Nhat Hanh
Photo: Pixabay
Editor: Dana Gornall
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