The Towel Nazi.

Well, for some reason I am not able to get much sleep tonight so I figured I’d write something for all of you fans out there, all zero of you, so far.

Something that has always plagued me throughout my line cooking career is cleanliness. I have worked with absolutely disgusting pigs everywhere I’ve been. Now out of a minimum habit, you should always keep your designated station as clean as possible and I don’t even think I have to explain why. I will anyways, we are preparing food. There, I said it.

The first thing I do when I arrive and get a chance is clean the section I’m going to be working in for the evening. Normally because it’s still destroyed from lunch and afternoon combat if I’m not working. All through the evening service and when my shift is over, it looks the exact same; immaculate, not like some feces-filled tornado ran rampant over the last six hours.

And, at least wash your damn hands when you get a chance or after you get done smoking or coming out of the bathroom, for Christ’s sake.

Sure enough, I witnessed a fellow cook coming out of the employee bathroom tonight wiping his hands on his apron. Yes, you read that correctly. He didn’t even take off his apron before he went to do his business. And from the time it took him to leave his section and return to the line, I would say he was doing the big dirty. He probably wiped his ass with the same garment.

The funny part is this guy used to be the assistant kitchen manager before he had a meltdown and told everyone to fuck off on his way out the door during a dinner service. This is what I was told by some others after they rehired him a couple weeks ago, about five months after said incident. I love this franchise’s standards more and more every day. Tell everyone to get bent and leave over the rush and you can apparently get hired back no problem down the road. I’ll have to remember that for my blaze of glory. Next month, we’ll probably see the blacked out, bloody-faced pill popper (Alex) back with a raise and promotion too.

The part that really blows me away is that a former member of management doesn’t even know basic sanitary standards most people use at home, let alone when they are preparing other people’s meals, not to mention I have to touch the same equipment he does eventually. Blah. Why don’t I say something, you ask? Because it won’t make one bit of a difference other than get him mad at me. If he hasn’t figured this common knowledge out in his thirty plus years on this planet, he never will.

I don’t want to work with this guy or even care to know him. Not solely for the reasons above, but I’m sure you’ll hear more about his wonderful personality and other habits as we move forward, because there is no way in hell I’m going to be able to avoid whining about him in the future. Another time perhaps? You can count on it.

Anyways…one thing that sticks out in general, especially for me, is the situation with towels or rags or whatever you want to call them. To begin with, they are locked up in the office. What the hell? This is the first place I’ve worked with that tendency. I guess people steal towels now, I shouldn’t sound surprised.

All I want is one when my shift begins. All I need is one for the entire shift. “I” means “me”, not me and everyone else who can physically grab it. If all you other swine want to share a community towel, be my guest. You despicable slobs who let your section become so filthy it would take a belt sander to properly clean it. You slop and scoop all the crap into your rag, then disinfect it in the sani-water. Now the whole container has chunks of crap floating in it plus it’s some odd color after your rinse. Within an hour the bucket has a ring and film forming on it. So gross. You savages can use that to clean your stations, but I’m not sticking my hands or cloth into that cesspool.

To keep me happy, just follow this one little request of mine. How hard is that? Apparently it’s impossible. 

I have gone as far as telling everyone, each person individually, that the reason I don’t want anyone touching my towel is because of my seafood allergies, and this is a truthful part of it. I leave out the component where I want to say, “Your abominable sanitary habits make me fear for my well being and I honestly believe you get things dirtier with every swipe of your polluted digits.” But I don’t to spare their feelings and blame it on a legitimate excuse, again my allergies.

When I handle those types of items, I am extra careful. I wear gloves and use a separate knife and always slice it exactly where I know, so I can clean that area specifically a certain way to prevent me breaking out in painful, itchy hives for the whole damn shift. DON’T TOUCH MY RAG! So simple you would think. Yeah, I know, boohoo me. But after decades of this happening in every place you worked at, I think you’d feel the same way given the same circumstances and for the love of God, how simple and mundane the proposition is.

I even had one idiot the other day, walk over to my area, drop a piece of fish, use my non-seafood knife, all the while taking croutons from my container because he ran out in his area. When he turned to go back, I was just staring at him. He stopped, met my gaze and said, “Oh yeah, I just had some fish here so be careful.” He then, before I could react, grabs my towel with his fishy hands and wipes up the fish juice. Fuck! Thanks a lot dick!

Tonight is no different. I manage to keep my rag free of harm for the whole night. First time ever in this establishment and it’s a huge accomplishment. I just started putting it on a small ledge I noticed behind some bread away from common view. It worked great. So, I’m done on line and go out front to do my clean ups. I make the horrific mistake of placing my towel in the prep area for maybe five minutes while I change a garbage liner and restock our spitfire cooler, again out front. I come back and sure as shit, my towel is no longer there.

I’m tired of this crap so I say out loud, though to myself, “I just can’t keep a fucking rag around here.” Another cook overhears me and asks what I said. I told him I put my towel down right here and now it’s gone and I need it to clean the spitfire area. He says, “Oh, here it is. I just seen it laying there.”, and he reaches out to hand it to me. This thing was white as could be not minutes ago. Now it is brown and black with bits of shit speckled throughout. Thanks douche; I really want to touch that now. And how the fuck did you get it that stained and dirty so quick!?

Yeah, I know, wah-wah, and I should probably be renamed the towel Nazi, but if you could only walk a mile in my shoes over the years, it gets to be infuriating because it’s such a simple request. Ugh. I…give…up.

  

Well that’s my towel rant and now I’m tired again so I’m going back to bed. Farewell, until we meet again, in another day in the life of a line cook.