Readers of the Tucson Weekly may know me as a guy who writes about food, but in my heart I am still a dishwasher. Today I hover over this keyboard, but for six long years I stood in front of a peristaltic detergent injector and an automated dish machine. I am no more than a suds buster who learned how to write. I never forget that.
I bring this up because I want all the dishwashers out there to know I have not forgotten the solemn oath I made while jet-spraying plates for $4.25 an hour. I will find a way to shed light on our profession, which is the most under-sung in the food industry. I will sing the praises of our toils. I just need to find the right vehicle to give it the proper treatment.
So hold tight my dishwashing brethren while I figure this out. I’m not sure if it will be a website, an online series or a full-length novel, but Tucson will know about the fine men and women who keep this city’s dishes clean. So help me God.
