When Chef came back for dinner, he nodded and pursed his lips, impressed but clearly skeptical—there was no way I could have gotten it so clean without water. He reached up to turn on the switch and froze, stuck to the metal. His face turned white and his big body slumped to the floor. I’d electrocuted the son of a bitch. He looked up at me silently, too stunned to be angry. However hurt he was, I was sure I was dead. But he gradually roused himself and managed to make it through service in la-la land. The next day I learned a lot about scrubbing toilets.
