I like the way you describe the "state of mind when doing long, monotonous tasks"; when I worked at Amazon (briefly, thankfully), that's exactly how I would get through those grueling ten hour shifts of packing boxes. It's the closest I think I've ever come to achieving a state of zen - body on total autopilot, moving independently, without any conscious input, while the mind is elsewhere entirely. It's strange and I've never been able to replicate it, but I don't want to go back to Amazon to do it. Especially because you weren't guaranteed to pack every night, and some nights you could be stuck on "picking" duty, which was its own special type of Hell; paradoxically infuriating and boring, but demanding too much thought and engagement to kind of mentally "check out" like packing.
Reading this brought back all the shitty gigs I've done before, but I completely resonate with the feeling. Those types of environment do foster a sort of unspoken unity I've never found in the viper's den of catty, back-biting snakes that is the corporate world. Like you said, I'd never go back and do them again (except for waiting tables at a small, family owned restaurant with cool owners, that place I would have stayed full time if the pay had allowed), but there was value to them all the same.
"Those types of environment do foster a sort of unspoken unity I've never found in the viper's den of catty, back-biting snakes that is the corporate world. "
Yeah. It's that realization you're stuck together, sink-or-swim. No other help is arriving, and you have a mountain of work to power through. Most importantly, there's simply no time for back-biting.
Former Jordan Marsh restaurant and nursing home kitchen dishwasher, here. The last thing I did before turning out the lights and taking out the trash was to squeegee the floor.
You brought me back to my college days in the early 80s, working in a campus dining hall. I hated the dish room, for all the reasons you go into. My favorite job was the milk runner, taking care of the beverage dispensers. It allowed me the chance to roam the dining hall and socialize. I felt like a “front of the house” type. Some people loved the dish room though, especially girls on the breakfast shift. Cloistered away from public view, they didn’t have to get up super early to shower and put on makeup.
A “Hell Summer” is a right of passage that after the passage of time, becomes a sacred memory. I pity those who never had the opportunity to see just how far they could push themselves. They will never know the answer is “farther than you can imagine”.
If someone told me they had worked at McDonald's for a year or two, they would instantly have my respect, and your story does quite a lot to explain why. Bravo. This is an ode to the dirty work we have done to keep body and soul together, told with big flashes of insight, and strangely it is both realistic and subversive.
I like the way you describe the "state of mind when doing long, monotonous tasks"; when I worked at Amazon (briefly, thankfully), that's exactly how I would get through those grueling ten hour shifts of packing boxes. It's the closest I think I've ever come to achieving a state of zen - body on total autopilot, moving independently, without any conscious input, while the mind is elsewhere entirely. It's strange and I've never been able to replicate it, but I don't want to go back to Amazon to do it. Especially because you weren't guaranteed to pack every night, and some nights you could be stuck on "picking" duty, which was its own special type of Hell; paradoxically infuriating and boring, but demanding too much thought and engagement to kind of mentally "check out" like packing.
Reading this brought back all the shitty gigs I've done before, but I completely resonate with the feeling. Those types of environment do foster a sort of unspoken unity I've never found in the viper's den of catty, back-biting snakes that is the corporate world. Like you said, I'd never go back and do them again (except for waiting tables at a small, family owned restaurant with cool owners, that place I would have stayed full time if the pay had allowed), but there was value to them all the same.
"Those types of environment do foster a sort of unspoken unity I've never found in the viper's den of catty, back-biting snakes that is the corporate world. "
Yeah. It's that realization you're stuck together, sink-or-swim. No other help is arriving, and you have a mountain of work to power through. Most importantly, there's simply no time for back-biting.
As a former delta driving dishwasher I salute you, brother.
Excellent writing! Brought back faded memories.
Perfect description, I've been there. You're a gifted writer.
Former Jordan Marsh restaurant and nursing home kitchen dishwasher, here. The last thing I did before turning out the lights and taking out the trash was to squeegee the floor.
You brought me back to my college days in the early 80s, working in a campus dining hall. I hated the dish room, for all the reasons you go into. My favorite job was the milk runner, taking care of the beverage dispensers. It allowed me the chance to roam the dining hall and socialize. I felt like a “front of the house” type. Some people loved the dish room though, especially girls on the breakfast shift. Cloistered away from public view, they didn’t have to get up super early to shower and put on makeup.
A “Hell Summer” is a right of passage that after the passage of time, becomes a sacred memory. I pity those who never had the opportunity to see just how far they could push themselves. They will never know the answer is “farther than you can imagine”.
Well written sir, well written indeed.
If someone told me they had worked at McDonald's for a year or two, they would instantly have my respect, and your story does quite a lot to explain why. Bravo. This is an ode to the dirty work we have done to keep body and soul together, told with big flashes of insight, and strangely it is both realistic and subversive.
Huzzah!! (from a fellow former professional dishwasher)
See that's the difference between me and most of you. I take time off sometimes to go back to the kitchen. I would do it again. I miss it.
Nothing wrong with that. For me, I had my fill.
As a former dishwasher/busboy: 🫡🫡🫡