It’s the thing we do most around here: We clean. We have checklists, logs, standard operating procedures, and inspections all focused on cleaning.
We have certain brushes for washing walls, others for the floors, different tools for tables, and special scrubbies for totes. We rinse, we cleanse, we scrub, we rinse, we sanitize, we store. We sanitize again.
We have gloves for handling fish and gloves for cleaning. We have boots for the wharf and boots for the facility. We have hair nets, sleeve protectors, beard nets, aprons, and special pants.
The worst are fish scales. Those suckers stick on for dear life to anything they can grab on to. Even after scrubbing a tote and rinsing it off, we’ll glance back to still find that single stubborn scale glaring back at us. It’s like dog hair (those of us with shedding dogs get this). You put away the vacuum after doggedly (haha) working to get every last hair…moving all the furniture and getting in the crooks and crannies and corners…only to see a clump of fur breeze across the tile like a tumbleweed.
Scales are like that.
We don’t mind really. Cleanliness is a point of pride for us. It’s good to know, isn’t it? After all, we’re not just fishmongers, we’re food mongers.