Beware: Disgusting Drops of Water

There are a lot of disgusting things that servers have to deal with. Crusty ketchup bottles and crusty old ladies just being the tip of the crusty iceberg. There was a time when smoking was allowed in restaurants and many times I had to scrape cigarette butts off of a dessert plate. Disgusting. Cleaning up vomit? Disgusting. Serving an old man with a cold sore so big that it needs its own table? Disgusting. But there is one thing that we deal with every day that makes my skin crawl and it's surprising that it has never made it into the blog before. It's that bus tub full of water that we throw the silverware into after we clear a table. It's like a murky soup of every item on the menu mixed with a tablespoon of soap. On occasion, when tossing some forks into that tub of putrid disgust, a splash happens that sends some of that water right back onto my arm and every time it happens I want to throw up. You know how the Wicked Witch of the West melted when Dorothy threw that water on her ass? It's sorta like that, except I don't melt. I just recoil in terror as my gag reflex goes into hyper-overdrive and I imagine all the bacteria that is slowly dripping down my arm. Last week, a few of those drops of water took square aim at my face:

Hey everybody, look! There's that bitchy ass waiter! Why don't we all gang up on him and go land on his face, you want to? Especially you, leftover tilapia mixed with chocolate syrup! Get over here, you crazy piece of smegma, you. And can someone go to the bottom of the bus tub and get a piece of braised kale? That shit is nasty and it needs to be on his face. Whadda ya say, gang? As soon as he throws a fork at us, we all go for it, alright? Get ready, here it comes! Three...two...one! GO!

The drops of water splashed right onto my face, some of it landing on my lip. I tried hard not to think about everything that was in that water but all I could picture was the man at table six who was busy coughing up internal organs all night. I wanted to ask him if he needed anything. Water? A napkin? An iron lung, perhaps? Now I probably had his germs all up in my mouth and within moments I would have a rip-roaring case of the emphysema. And then I remembered the lady at table eleven who was sneezing all night and said it was just allergies but it was probably some rare case of yellow fever that I was now going to contract. The water dripped down my cheek and onto my shirt. I ran to the bathroom to wash my face with industrial soap and lukewarm water.

No disease or illness has befallen me since, so the cleansing must have been sufficient. But it still grosses me out. From now on, I will no longer casually toss the silverware into the bus tub. It will forever be lovingly placed ever so gently into the water. I can't risk that disgusting happening being repeated. Fucking nasty ass water.

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