Back in the mid 90s when I made my living primarily as a dishwasher, it seemed fetching to somehow try to exalt the profession somehow, rather than just view it as a bullshit minimum wage job. I also really liked the idea of putting the spotlight on some of the finer points of dishwashing, like peoples' different techniques and setups, and how their personalities fit into the job, etc. Bear in mind that washing dishes in college towns like Missoula, MT is a markedly less ignoble vocation than in larger cities, where it's typically performed by illegal immigrants and parolees. In Missoula, it's not at all uncommon for people with advanced degrees and years of professional experience to find themselves back in the dish pit, since that's kinda the price you have to pay to live there. (Side note: I briefly washed dishes at a French joint in Missoula, and one of my fellow sudsmiths was a part-time Latin professor awaiting tenure).

So anyway, this got written in about 1994, I'd say. I don't know if it predated that Dishwasher magazine or not. And by the way, Gary Sanchez was one of many nicknames I had for myself back then, and Sam Adams of course was, and still is the legendary drummer of the Fireballs of Freedom, and honestly, one of the finest hydrosaponification technicians that I've ever had the pleasure of working with.

Sam in the pit at Casa Pablo's

Sam Adams- Casa Pablo's

Gary Sanchez loves to explore the conventions of the English language. you? I am notably fascinated by pluralization. To wit: A group of elephants is called a herd, a group of snakes is called a roost, and group of dishes is called what? A load, dingo! That having been said, I give you this year's recipient of the Mark Sharkey Memorial Award for Greatest Contribution to the Institution of Dishwashing. Meet Sam Adams, the night dishwasher at Casa Pablo's. Bringing almost two years of dish experience to bear, Sam has chosen to improve himself by providing brave innovation to the field. Let's take a closer look at the this unlikely saint.

Another in a long line of Fargo, ND expatriates, Adams didn't just foist right into town and nab the first sudsmith job he could find. He thoroughly researched the field, and ended up at a place where he knew his talents would be tested in earnest. A recognized exemplar of dish acumen, the other workers could only cower before the bespectacled overlord. On his first shift, none were prepared for Adams' many-pronged approach. Coupling his usual speed and accuracy with an unforeseen vocal and physical onslaught, the peanut gallery was wise to give Sammy all the room he needed to accomplish the gargantuan given task. Casa Pablo's is commonly known to humble the weaker slogdog with long trips between bus tub and sink, to say nothing of the burdensome glassware the shop uses. Sam, also a noted polyrhythmist, shrugs off the sweat and brings a confident uniformity to the job.

One night, exercising foresight not yet seen in the field, Sam chose to offset the on-the-job ennui by arriving to work with a "broken arm" replete with faux cast. it may not have been the busiest shift, but believe you me, for fans of Rick Allen¹ and of competitive dishwashing alike, these truly are hot summer nights.

Many new Brillo brothers tend to be intimidated by the shop's late-80s top-loader Hobart and its fully integrated (yet feeble) Ecolab sanitation system; it requires the washer/washtress to all but sterilize the confounded plate before being sent through on the rack for chemical treatment and rinse. Quoth Adams: "I don't even want to know what goes on inside that machine."

Now I'm sure many of you are wondering with what this venerable Saucer Stevedore occupies his spare time. Regaled as somewhat of a mystery man, Adams often makes brief but glorious appearances at local housewarmings and cakewalks, spreading not with words, but with presence, the majesty of hydrosaponification.

¹ Rick Allen appears courtesy of Columbia Records