Grease Trap

(Disclaimer: This photo is not the actual grease trap I swam in. But it's pretty close.)

I've had to do some gross work-related things in my day, but cleaning the grease trap in the guest kitchen of Annunciation House has easily been my most stomach-turning assignment to date. I used to be a direct care staff in a group home- work that often involved bathing and toileting people and cleaning up accidents. This was certainly challenging at times, but somehow dealing with bodily fluids didn't phase me as much as dealing with food residue that's slinked down the drain. Being minimally technically skilled and minded, I had never imagined that something such as a "grease trap" could exist, a contraption which is like a holding cell for food grease. It turns out that here at A-house these grease traps prevent our tubes from getting clogged and leading to kitchen catastrophe, and they require regular weekly maintenance. There was a former guest named Mario who used to be in charge of grease trap maintenance. He cleaned it every week for two years. Now he's headed to Seattle, and we volunteers have been left to tackle this terrible beast ourselves.

Luckily for me, Mario, who now has achieved sainthood for his grease trap contribution, was around to guide me in my first go around. I dutifully donned the long purple gloves and carried the filthy bucket, pitcher, and scraper up to the guest kitchen where I was confronted with a teeming stew of what can only be described as diarreah. Nasty red, brown bubbling funk in layers that needed to be scooped and discarded. At first, it was oddly appealing for the sheer gruesomeness of the task, kind of a childlike fascination. Quickly it became a descent into hell as I discovered thick, eel-like slivers of fat that took on a life of their own as they dodged my scooper. I slowly filled up bucket after bucket of grease and lugged them downstairs to the dumpster across the parking lot. It seemed never-ending. Towards the bottom of the tank, I think I entered into delirium from the oily toxic fumes- everything that Mario said to me seemed absolutely hilarious. "This is why you read very carefully before signing a contract," he joked. "Remember, you don't need to get this thing so clean that you can eat cereal off it." "Now you have a reason to stick around here as a volunteer." By the time I was finished, I felt as if I paid penance for my sins of the last year.