Being A Dishwasher Is Not As Dull As Dishwater

I am a seventeen-year-old dishwasher at a café. One diner isn’t satisfied with the amount of avocado on her sandwich, but instead of complaining to the cashier or the cook, she decides it’s my fault.

She comes behind the counter, surprises me by grabbing my shoulder, and starts to berate me for poor service while waving her sandwich in my face. I’m dumbfounded, standing there with rubber gloves on, holding a sponge and a spoon.

My boss hears the commotion from the back, quickly assesses the situation, and runs the lady out the door. From inside, I can hear my boss threatening the lady with charges of trespassing and assault, all the while grilling her about why she thought the dishwasher had anything to do with her sandwich.