Case of the Exploding Ketchup, Day 2;
The Case of the Exploding Ketchup erupted in an unexpected manner the day after my initiation into the matter. Little did I know my Dishpit and the outlying area were to be invaded by service workers from an outside company tasked with fixing the temperature control of our Walk-In Cooler.
This was a guarantee to put the Don in a sour mood as such requests were expensive. Being a New, although terrifically qualified, Dishwasher at the time it was not my place to ask questions to or hinder his adoption of a poor attitude. I showed up early, as was my usual standard, to a scene with an embittered air about it and an annoyed and angry the Don pacing through the kitchen. What follows is Day 2 in the Case of the Exploding Ketchup.
Expecting the Red Menace to be causing havoc at work I decided the night before to arrive at work earlier than usual. I woke up in a satisfying enough manner to a hungry and quite vocal cat demanding his usual tribute. Over coffee and a smoke I discussed the previous night's happenings with my rather rotund roommate George.
"The fat fuck had ketchup all over him, looked like he red-winged a hemophiliac," I chuckled slightly wiping away the night crust that builds up as I sleep around my eyes not telling George that I was elsewhere at the time of the explosion.
"Is that how hemophilia works? I thought you had to be cut or something... I didnt even think about how it would affect menstruation...," George pondered aloud.
This was George acting normally. He often questioned things said to him perhaps a tad to thoroughly.
"Google the shit man I have no responsibility over my words this early in the day."
"Its 3 pm you twat, dude you should get the day shifts back, we miss you on Game day," and as was expected, being a recurring topic of discussion I waved away this comment.
"Listen man, work is work. I gotta hit the shower, mind if I hit you up today for a ride?" I inquired this daily and depending on George's schedule my trip home may or may not be easy.
I went through my routine making sure all the most important areas were sanitized and smelled not much at all. The ride to work was via bus and more on that I shall write about later, because one such incident a few days forward unlocked the door to solving this mystery.
As mentioned earlier I showed up to a chaotic scene of men in overalls I didnt recognize. This was not entirely strange to me as I am familiar enough with laborers being that my previous position as a carpet cleaner allowed me access to similar places like the restaurant I call Work.
I approached cautiously and hesitantly, dodging overall-ed and be-tooled gruff men. One thing surprising; the addition of these coarse element in no way hampered the desire of people to patronize our business. Walking past the bathrooms, I hung a quick right and soon was face to face with the Don himself at the back entrance of the Kitchen. Previously I was instructed by Shannah that Don hated diminutive greetings.
"Good afternoon!"
I knew immediately that a more subdued hello might have sufficed.
"Not from where Im standing," he spoke into the void ignoring me completely as he proceeded to exit the kitchen and enter our dining room. This was a pretty tame response in comparison to the chewing out some already received earlier in the day. Little did I know there was to be such an event that I was not privy to hear nor see, being that the cleaning of dishes takes precedent. However, it is often the case being that I gather secondhand information in abundant amounts as people are often uninhibited when discussing matters to someone they deem below them.
A crying server enters.
Separates herself from me by hiding her face on the other side of the dish machine which was currently in operation. Possessing a flare for the dramatic and a sadistic tendency which sometimes manifests itself in childish pranks, i opened the doors early and a blast of steam encompassed her face.
I gazed through the now open Dishmachine doors with a devilish smirk, taking a hit of steam myself. For the second time today in less than an hour I knew right away I should of been more aware and made a different move than what I did.
She didnt care her makeup was smudged as the steam had shown up to a job tears started.
"Don just yelled at I think I might be fired," she sobbed. I did not remember her name despite meeting her a week before and having worked two shifts with her. As it was Shannah's Friday yesterday, this new girl was covering her days off. I was not distinctly aware that I missed Shannah's presence at work, but I was still new in building.
Not knowing if I was being talked to or at, I chanced to say, "what happened? Cant be that bad if he didnt fire you on the spot."
"I gave ketchup to this couple and it exploded all over this lady's shirt. He told me not to shake the ketchup but I didnt shake the ketchup. I dont know if I should go back out there but he was helping cleaning it up and Im scared to go back out..."
"You have to go back to your job or you will be fired, this happened twice before yesterday. Grab these paper towels hurry back to help him, youll be fine," and I said this not knowing whether it was true but it was enough to spur her into a meander out of my Dishpit.
"Wait, you'll need these," I told her as I handed her a wad of disposable gloves and a small clear garbage bag.
"Thanks Desmond," and at this I could but nod not knowing her name. Frankly writing, it not worth the mind space memorizing somebody's name as the turnover rate for the first week of any employee at any restaurant is usually high. The time would come after a month or so that memory could be dedicated for the purpose.
It turns out my advice was well met as the Don was doing a poor job having run out of generic paper towels. A hour or more into the night, the workmen had come to the conclusion that the motor for the Walk-In cooler was no longer functioning under normal parameters causing the temperature to fluctuate. The installation of the new motor would occur the following morning.
Later on when the Don left and Night Crew took over I went to grab dishes to do and I saw Wheeler getting ready to leave for the night having a small conversation with CW.
"I think the word is getting around, no one seems to be using Ketchup anymore, makes it easier on us I guess," I heard CW say. At this I stood now in the conversation at the Coffee station leaning a bit on it to take a quick rest.
Wheeler was drinking a beer, as he was clocked off, and I poured a cup of coffee.
"Ive been telling people not to open it, fuck it who wants a mess to clean," Wheeler snorted into a sip of beer.
"Yea that is probably the thing to do, I dont want to hear another mention about dry-cleaning bills."
I could not help but think CW and Wheeler were right and on this rare occurrence I acknowledged that fact to them and even suggested we fill the bottles less, perhaps only halfway.
"That isnt the reason its exploding, you still get a pink spray even if its halfway full."
Wheeler saying this was a clue to the mystery, and the second clue came towards the end of the night when I managed to procure a bottle of Ketchup myself.
What came next was a bold experiment. Using myself as a test subject I shook violently the plastic bottle of Ketchup, while hovering near my sprayer in an area I secured with two foot long hotel pans. After a minute of this I proceeded to open the bottle of Ketchup.
It was the next day I reported my findings to a soon to be remembered waitress and several others.