I almost forgot to tell you, and since it has been so many days, I was pretty close to just letting the dust settle on one of my most embarrassing moments. But, I realized it would be humbling for me and funny for you to know about my kitchen crisis.
Last week, I was on the kitchen rotation the whole week. At first they put me in as an assistant and weren’t planning to train me, so I was focused on doing the jobs that were given to me and doing them efficiently and proactively. One of the tasks they showed me how to do was to refill the condiment dispensers. We have smaller squeeze bottles that we use when we are cooking and preparing food, but we buy the condiments in bulk quantities that we store in the refrigerator. After the lunch rush, I cleaned the counters, replaced the dirty cutting boards and utensils, and then, I noticed that a few of the condiments needed refilling. I headed to the fridge to grab the large container of mayonnaise (a little smaller than a 5-gallon bucket), which I knew was on the top shelf in the walk-in fridge.
As I opened the door and stepped into the cold room (refrigerator), I was just bringing my second foot over the raised threshold lifting my arm up to grab the mayo when another container wobbles off the top shelf and comes crashing down. It all happened so fast and I didn’t even know what was happening until I looked down at the puddle of barbecue sauce at my feet. A large plastic container full of barbecue sauce had busted in the floor of the refrigerator and splattered all over the shelves and walls, and inconveniently, the sauce completely covered my shoes and the bottom third of my jeans. Frozen in my shock, all I could say was, “Oh man!” My friend, Aine, walked over from the kitchen to the partly opened door and looked in with wide eyes and a growing grin. Scott walked by about a minute later and stopped to stare.
I knew I needed to get to cleaning immediately, so I tried to step out of the fridge to grab some paper towels, rags, etc. But, I quickly realized I couldn’t go anywhere without leaving a messy trail of barbecue sauce with every step. Scott carefully reached in and picked me up. He carried me all the way upstairs to our second floor room and set me in the shower. I had to totally change clothes before I could go down to clean it up. Aine had already started scraping up some of it with newspapers, but it was a long process! I don’t know how long it took, but I know I wiped down shelves and bottles and bags and the walls and the door, and there are still a few remnants to remind me of the accident like the stained cardboard egg crates.
The director, Mike, walked by with his cup of tea just as we were starting to clean it up, and he laughed heartily and said, “It looks like a murder scene.” Several people stopped to see the site of the splattered sauce, and I was reassured that now I am officially part of the team. And, in case you were wondering, the barbecue sauce washed out of my jeans and my tennis shoes!