It seems most of the dishwashers I’ve worked with are perverts to some degree. The Mexican dishwashers who work in the summer? Perverts. Most of them would screw a snake if someone held its head.
We have two regular dishwashers during the winter, Bob and Fellows.
Bob is 55 years old and doesn’t have a driver’s license or a car. He reeks of two day old cheap cologne and most days, is about as useless as tits on a man. When he’s not on his phone, he’s cussing and throwing things in the dishpit. He refuses to follow the recipies for the salad bar so everything he makes tastes wrong. I wouldn’t be surprised if he spits in every third salad. One day a week he gets a bug up his ass and decides to do a major cleaning project, usually right during the lunch rush, so he can spend the rest of the week bitching about how no one does anything.
Bob is under the impression that all young women are hot for him. A few days ago he sauntered into the wait station, struck a pose, looked Kayla up and down and said, “Hey Kayla.” Kayla has a man who is Bob’s age in her life. She calls him grandpa. Lay off the little blue pills.
I made the mistake once of saying, “Hi Bob, how are you?” and spent the following ten minutes listening to how he broke up with his girlfriend, but had a date lined up for that night and was probably going to get some. Well, ew.
That was 6 months ago and now most of our interactions consist of me asking, “What are you looking at?” and him taking his shifty eyes off me. He has the personality type that goes from zero to felonious stalker in about 2 seconds. We don’t have a good working relationship.
Then there’s Fellows. He is about the same age as my daughter and is lacking in social skills. His counselor had to tell him that bathing was a requirement when working around women and food. This was after he caused me to dry heave on another waitress.
Lately, the servers have seen way more of Fellows than we ever wanted to. He seldom zips his pants and Amanda insists she saw the pony trying to escape the barn. A few days ago Dani, Jamie and I saw an amazing amount of crack. Tonight he squatted down to pick up some dishes and his pants slipped to mid-thigh showing off a huge pair of tidy whities. Why bother wearing pants?
He also has no sense of personal boundaries. I was standing in the wait station tonight, looking out in the dining room. I shifted my leg less than an inch and stepped on Fellows who was kneeling down…with his face in my ass. Dude. My dogs don’t even get that up close and personal with my business and they are ass sniffers. WTF?! I told him he needed to tell people when he was behind them and to stop sneaking up on me.
Fellows tells people he is afraid of me. One more incident like tonight and he’s going to be more than afraid.