This is what I do at work.
Note that in order to clean these containers in the hotel car park (you can see three of the five in this picture) I’m wearing all my cycling gear under my kitchen aprons (one cotton, one plastic) because it’s so DAMNED cold here. And that I get to scrub them with a nice new balai-brosse which Chef bought for me; it’s good because it’s bigger than the old one so cleans more quickly, but it’s rubbish because it’s bigger than the old one and so won’t fit in the bucket he gives me.
I also do this:
which also looks like this:
These are the ‘before’ pictures, of course. The plonge usually looks like this (actually usually a lot worse than this, it was a quiet day) immediately after we finish staff lunch; the sinks and worktops hold all the saucepans and gastros and utensils and machinery we’ve been using for prep all morning; I note traces of beetroot in the calot in the sink (staff meal starter) and some sort of gratin around the Pyrexes on the side. And that the ‘covers’ bowl, strictly for knives and forks, has been used AGAIN by the waiters to dump last night’s dessert plates.
Anyway, after I’ve worked on it a while the plonge normally looks more like this:
You’ll find more pictures of the kitchen, including a picture of my new company car, at http://www.mostxlnt.co.uk/diary/images/resto/ – note what Chef’s reading in the ‘kitchenafter’ pix, I gave it to him as a Christmas present and to say ‘thanks’ for all the help he’s given me in the past year or so.
Most Excellent! 
Once upon a time, many MANY years ago, I worked for two weeks in a huge industrial kitchen, in the “plonge,” as it were, for the US Army. The “restaurant” was called a Mess Hall, and we served several hundred meals a day. Those of us who were simple Privates (Other Ranks) were detailed to kitchen duty. Because I didn’t want to appear weak or uncooperative, I actually volunteered for duty in the nastiest portion of this kitchen: Washing pots and pans. Picture this: Four huge wash sinks, just in the pots and pans area, the first of which was equipped with a high-pressure steam washer, accessed via a hanging hose with a lever type valve. This was used to scour out the monstrous industrial pots. The temperature of this water was lethal. I spent my day with my head and shoulders INSIDE these pots, 30 gallons or more in size, scouring out the remnants of soups, stews, gravies, etc, etc. The next few sinks were for finishing touches and for “smaller” pots and pans, say, 5 to 15 gallons each. Every day I was screamed at for “pans, Mac (me), we need more effing PANS.” I did my best. At the end of the 18 hour day, I trudged back to my cot, shed myself of my stinking filthy clothing (which I had to wash right then and there) and went to bed only to do it all over again the next day.
At the end of my two week excursion in Hell, the “chef,” the Mess Hall Cook, also an Other Rank, took my aside and told me that I was the best pot washer he had ever had. I told him that he was the best cook that I had ever seen, better even than my mother (and she was a GREAT cook). He was suitably impressed and we parted the best of friends. Needless to say, I got preferential treatment at mealtimes in his “Mess Hall.” I would never do this kind of work again, but I treasure the memory.
I respect you IMMMENSELY for the dedication and the hard work that you have put in over the last year or so. Your commitment to this new endeavor is simply stunning. All success to you, Chris.