I can't believe it!!!!

OH MY GOD!!!! I get to Prairie Bay and start dishwashing. About 10 minutes into it, the machine runs out of detergent. No big deal; it happens all the time. I go to the rack over where the mop bucket, broom, gigantic floor squeegee and other things are located. There should be some of this stuff there. There is none to be found. I look every place I can think. I ask the cooks on the front line. They can't think of any place that I haven't already looked. I ask Shane, the current bartender, if there are any management-types around. He tells me that he is the only one. I tell him that there is no dishwasher detergent anywhere, unless he can figure out where it went. One of the cooks tell me to just start washing stuff by hand. I'm starting to panic. The dishes are piling up. I fill the sinks with the commercial handwashing detergent and no-rinse sanitizer. I end up having to switch sinks that stuff is in when I realize that one isn't holding water. I use that one for the water rinse before the sanitizer. I start going nuts on sautee pans. The cooks need them. Time keeps passing and there are so many plates and bowls that I have to start handwashing them, too. I'm feeling like I did in school during a very important test or when attempting to start an essay that was worth many points: muscles extremely tense, my heart racing, inability to sit still to the point that I could to sprint 100 yards and MAYBE calm down. K. T., the only female cook and the only female in the kitchen aside from me, tells me that Black Bear Grill and Saloon may have something. She tells me that she would run to check it out but she doesn't have her license. I go as fast as I can legally get away with down the road to the restaurant. I walk in the front door in my men's size large white commercial uniform shirt and an apron tied around my waist and ask the hostess if I can talk to the kitchen staff. She leads me to the kitchen and say that I'm from Prairie Bay and they mentioned that might have some dishwasher detergent I can use. They show me their machine and I recognize immediately that the dispenser is the wrong one. I politely thank them for trying and head back. I tell K. T. that they didn't have the right stuff. I go back to my own version of hell and look at the glass racks that are filling up, wondering how I am going to manage to handwash those. I'm still washing plates when Jeff, this big tall Lurch-type who is constantly teasing me, comes back and hands me the very important commodity. I tell him, with this huge grin on my face, that I could kiss him. Applebee's was the restaurant where they finally found it. They called just about every place in town before locating it there. I stick the stuff where it belongs and load up racks, sending them through the machine. K. T. comes back and helps me out. I finally make it through the night, leaving a bunch of big stuff for the morning. I get off of work still extremely stressed out. That was one of those moments I never imagined I would have to experience.