I was dishwasher, then promoted to chef in a local kitchen in a restaurant in Seattle, and I was working on a building site as well, putting in insulation and painting houses, and then doing some classes at a community college nearby.
I learned that you don't take dishes from the table to the dishwasher; you have to rinse them first. I think that's stupid because I don't go out in the back yard and hose off before taking a shower.
Water doesn't hurt a vinyl record. Put it into a dishwasher and you're fine.
I don't like when people put their dishes in the dishwasher without scrubbing them properly because it comes out with those little white dots and then you can't get those out. And you have to rewash them.
They say, 'We will give you money, but we want you to play this or that.' And I always thought, 'If I'm going to do that, I might as well go back and be a dishwasher.'
I worked as a draftsman for the Department of Environmental Protection, and as a teacher, in N.Y.C.; at a big bank and a small ad agency, a tiny law firm and a few giant ones; as a cashier and a dishwasher; preparing deli sandwiches and stringing tennis racquets and pruning evergreens into conical Christmas-tree shapes.
For me, it's about being at home and living a life. Taking the dog for a walk, doing the shopping, emptying the dishwasher, going for a run.
I have to admit that I'm one of those people that thinks the dishwasher is a miracle.
First, I am definitely going to give some money to my mission program at church, and then I have to get my mom a dishwasher.
My father, who worked as a dishwasher, was especially anxious. He did not like being here undocumented.
