What's up, ladies and gents?
So I have not updated in quite some time. Apologies for that. There's been quite a bit going on.
But I have a couple of stories in regards to my exploits within the kitchen of our bar. Both could have easily resulted in my untimely demise, but I may just be getting a bit ahead of myself.
So here's the first story:
I walk into work one Monday night, and my boss tells me to clean the fryolator. Which makes me cringe even as I sit here now typing it out, but I figured, "eh, I know what to do by now, no problem."
What my boss, unfortunately, had neglected to tell me was that the fryolator was still ON. You see, I believed that when he told me to clean it, that it meant it was already turned off and waiting for me. Such was not the case.
While pouring the grease from the second fryolator into the bucket, the liquid was so hot that it burned a rather large hole in its side. The result was fryolator grease spilling all over the floor, and seeping into my shoe, effectively burning the right side of my right foot. It was the BP oil disasters of grease in our kitchen, and probably the last thing you'd ever want when working in the kitchen.
And all of this happened within my first twenty minutes of being at work.
I timed it.
It took the better part of an hour and a half to mop up what I could of the oil, and then after that mess was done, I still had to clean out the fryolators. Needless to say, I did not have a good night that night, as my boss then let me go home early. Three weeks later, the floor is doing much better and is no longer slippery, though we still have mats placed down for walking.
Oh, and in case you were wondering, my foot is fine. I got some anti-burn spray on it, I'm looking at it right now, it's good as new, just about.
Now the second story, a little less hazardous but still terrifying for me:
The oven was not working for about a week, and my boss had taken off the bottom part of it- I'm guessing the grease pan or something, there was a lot of nasty crap on it- for me to clean. Really not a hassle, I get it looking brand new in a matter of minutes. So I dry it off, and take it over to the oven to put it back on.
The second it touched its spot, the sparks from the wires- because there are a group of wires in that spot, I'm assuming to power the machine- fly out at me in a very loud bang. The result of this was me dropping the piece I had and running out of the kitchen, patting myself for flames and asking Abby if I was on fire (to which she assures me that I am not).
We managed to put it back on with no problems, and while it continued to not work for the remainder of the week, I still stayed far away from it.
Oh, and I also somehow cut my finger on one of the mats while picking it up to run it through the dishwasher (because that's how we keep them cleaned). It wasn't a life-threatening cut, yet it would not stop bleeding for the longest time. This was the same night as story number 2, so I chalked it all off as my job trying to tell me something, washed my finger, cleaned it, bandaged it, and went about my day.
But that's a look at what goes on in our kitchen. I hope you enjoyed, and I'll try to update again soon.
Pea soup.
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