In the country of Equestria, ponies struggle with doing dishes. Ponies would much rather work in a field for hours on end than be stuck in front of a sink. This fact of life extended to the restaurant industry, where it's much worse. Some restaurants resort to using disposable utensils and plates, but there is always a dish that needs to be washed. Even in high-end establishments, they have trouble with high employee turnover when it comes to dishwashers. Not even a crew of ponies washing dishes will last long. Only the strong, motherly mare of the household is capable of doing the dishes every night (for the most part) to save her children from the toils of the sink. Those with the resolve to handle the dirty work of washing dishes are few and far between, because washing dishes is always viewed as a chore and not a worthwhile career.

In Equestria, if you are washing dishes, you are either between jobs or insane.

Dishwasher turnover in Equestria is one of the worst of all industries.

Your name is Anon and you are currently looking to get a job. Why? You need money, for things like goods and services. It also doesn't feel right living off of the kindness of others all the time.

Your skillset should work well in this pastel pony land, you had thought. Back in your home planet all you did really was work in restaurants and the like. Job markets for people like you, college-aged dudes with healthy bodies, meant that your only choice was to work in foodservice. You have the most experience being a line cook.

Unfortunately, most places here won't hire line cooks right off the bat. You've tried and failed multiple times to get a cooking gig here. You can remember how most interactions went with those who were in charge of hiring for local restaurants...

"Sorry, we already have enough cooks!"

"You can cook? We already have more than enough, sorry!"

"What are you doing in my house? Please get out, I don't have time for guests!"

Good lord, what a blow to your ego. It's okay though, because your standards for a good job just keep getting lower and lower as each attempt goes on. Fucking ponies, always doubting your skills of dropping fryer baskets and grilling shit.

Of course you couldn't just get a job as a cook, that wasn't how it worked back on Earth, and now you know that's not how it's going to work here.

This time, it's back to square one. Time to go slay some dishes.

You're not completely adverse to the idea, some of your best moments were spent washing dishes. You sometimes miss the zen of having music blare from a bluetooth speaker as you're in the zone. You also sometimes miss the lack of constant communication, and peace from the cooking line and front of house. In this pony world it'll never be the same as working back home, but you must do what a man has to do.

You live in Ponyville, a somewhat quiet town for Equestria, but there's still a lot going on even in this town. There's always some ponies walking to and fro, friends meeting up, and those working on whatever it is they work on. It's strange going from a midwestern city to a place like this. At least you have a nice quiet place on the edge of town to call home, a lovely bridge where you've made a campsite. A campsite can't hold you forever, so now you must find gainful employment.

You stroll the streets, during the time of day that is the peace and quiet between the lunch and dinner rush of all the establishments here. This is the prime hours for getting hired. There is always a manager free to converse with you.

As you are walking, you notice your next target for employment. A lovely establishment called "Dinny's!"

It looks like an average-sized restaurant, with moderate traffic. Just by the first look at the place, you can tell it's the equivalent of the kind of place that people would go to after church back on Earth. Clean, unobtrusive, wholesome, and inviting. You step up to the main entrance, and prepare yourself.

Just as you walk up to the front doors, they burst open. A sad, wet, and very angry pony storms out.

"I'm never going to wash dishes EVER AGAIN! THIS IS POO POO!" the pony wails.

Whelp. Looks like there's a job opening with your name written all over it. You grin.

You walk in, making sure not to bang your head against the pony-sized doors. You're pleasantly surprised to find that the height of the ceiling inside is high enough for you to walk comfortably inside it. You overhear a loud conversation coming from the back...

"At this rate, we'll have gone through everypony in town!"

"Don't worry, Palette! I'm sure somepony will come by and help us out... though I'm not sure if I can help out with the dishes for much longer. Oh, fiddlesticks! Somepony walked in! I gotta go to the front!"

You scan the environment. The restaurant is completely empty. You thank yourself for the impeccable timing, because there's nothing worse than dealing with a whole restaurant and having to handle someone who wants a job at the same time. You reminisce on your old fast food days when there would be a huge line of people waiting to get their order taken, and then the person in front of you wants to have a long discussion about working with you.

You are currently standing behind the counter. The way this place is built, it's more of a fast food restaurant than anything with the counter being right here. You wonder how many restaurants in town actually do have the menus given to you at the table.

A yellow earth pony mare currently in pony-employee uniform greets your vision as she frantically scrambles to the other side of the counter.

"Welcome to Dinny's! Wow, you're big! Are you dining in with us tonight?" the yellow serverhorse asks.

"No, actually. I'd like to speak to a manager."

You don't know how it's possible, but all of the color from the mare's face seemed to go away. Isn't that fur on their face?

"My m-m-manager?" she squeaks.

"Uh, yeah. Your manager." you say.

"D-did I do something wrong? I'm so sorry for calling you big! Have I been a bad pony?" she stammers out. Jesus Christ, that's morbidly adorable. You suppress your sick fantasies of tormenting with ponies emotionally for now, and reply.

"No, you're not a bad pony. I'm simply here for a potential job if I can get one."

Just like that, the color regains on the yellow mare's face, and she is now smiling.

"Phew! Okay!" she says, clopping her two front hooves together, "Let me go get my manager for you!"

As she happily trots to the back of house, you hear a couple of murmurs from there. The murmurs stop and then you're soon greeted by the manager of the establishment.

"Hey, I've seen you around town! You must be our residential human! What's your name?" the manager says.

"My name is Anonymous."

You study the manager for a second. A unicorn! With lovely blue eyes! Her main coat is somewhat pink, with a light blue mane and tail. In her mane and tail, there's some noticeable grey hairs spread throughout. She's got a few wrinkles on her face, and her little pony body is definitely in the stages of transitioning between normal mare and the dreaded old hag mare.

"Oh dear, how rude of me! I haven't told you my name! I'm the owner of this fine place, and my name is Palette Dinny!"

"Dinny, huh? Like the name of this place?" you ask.

"Yes sir! This restaurant has been in my family for quite some time, and I'm the current owner. My father used to run this place many years ago, before he retired." Palette says.

You take a quick peak at her ass, and see a cutie mark that looks like a typical printed out schedule. You guess management really does run in the family.

"That's pretty neat, so this place has got some history going for it. I've worked in a couple family-owned places, myself." you reply.

"Oh, really?" Palette asks.

"Yeah. I've been everything from a busboy, to a line cook."

"That's great to hear! Unfortunately, if you're looking to cook for us, we don't have any positions available for you." she says. She kind of looks a little disheartened by saying that.

"That's okay, I'm not here to cook for you to begin with. I couldn't help but notice that what I think was your dishwasher running out. I'd like to wash your dishes for you." you casually say.

Palette is taken aback from the eagerness. She collects herself, and leans in.

"Are you in a bad place at the moment?" she starts, with a somewhat hushed voice. "We would love to have you, but we understand if it gets too tough for you... a lot of ponies can't handle it for more than a few days."

Seriously? A few days? It can't be that bad, can it? You can understand a dishwasher not making it work out within a month, but a few days? How fragile can the ponies of this world even be?

"I've washed dishes for a couple of busy places in my life, how bad could it be?" you say.

"W-well, if you think you're up to it Anonymous, you're more than welcome to work here! Would you mind following me to my office so I can give you a proper interview?" Palette says.

"Alrighty then."

You follow her to her office, a cozy little room with a desk, chair, and a filing cabinet. On the desk, you can see what appears to be a lamp, accounting information, an employee schedule, and a half-empty box of crayons. In the corner of the room, a garbage bin, with what you assume to be multiple employee files inside of it.

Palette told you to wait for a second, leaving you in the room. You also notice a children's coloring book poorly hidden by the desk lamp. Your urge to move the lamp and take a look inside the book was interrupted by Palette coming back in with a seat from one of the tables out front.

"Please, Anonymous! Have a seat!" she says. You oblige.

You and Palette are now sitting down, almost at eye level with each other.

"Anonymous could get to be quite the mouthful, is it okay if I call you Anon?" Palette asks.

"Sure." you say.

"So, uh, how many dishwashers have you had come through here?" you ask.

"You see, Anon, you see, we, uh, we've have about thirty come and go within the past six months." she says.

"You're kidding? Thirty in the past six months?"

"Dishwashing is not for the faint of heart, Anon. Most ponies do it because they have to! Personally I haven't seen many ponies at all choose it as a career choice. It takes a special kind of pony to be able to do that."

You think. Sure, dishwashing isn't a good job by any stretch, but it's honest and straightforward. You thought that these child-like ponies would like having something that simple as a career, but you guess it could've fooled anyone else from your planet. Palette continues talking, breaking your train of thought.

"We've actually got the lowest turnover rate in town, so I guess we're doing pretty fine!"

Hold up, the lowest?

IN TOWN?

You and Palette then get into a conversation about how working for a living is tough, and bond with each other since you both are restaurant-born. After that, she gives you a short interview, asking about your experience in kitchens (with you having to omit many of the non-child friendly moments) and seems like you're a good fit for her business. However, she's confused by one thing.

"Anon, you seem to be qualified for a position as a cook for a fancy place in Canterlot! Tell, me, why are you coming here to work for me?"

You're qualified for a fancy place in this world? This doesn't surprise you. From what you've seen, anyone who has had half of year of experience being the guy put on the drive-thru is worthy of being a diplomat for inter-country affairs.

You don't want to tell her you've been living under a bridge and even if you somehow made it to this Canterlot place, you'd likely get lost and never return. You lean in, and get within a slightly uncomfortable distance to her. Palette freezes. You lean even further, and say into her ear...

"The dishes beckon, and I am their reckoning."

Author's Note

Translating this from the greentext is pretty easy, but it would be easier if I were covered head-to-toe in dishwater. Here's the introductory taste to my world of washing dishes.