My hand was so bad they hadta skin graft me, but the raw honey did the same. Then again I naturally have skin that heals well in the first off. I should be covered in scars head to toe, but for few I have are less than three years old. Mainly a couple tiny cat scratches...
I did Italian, French (and if I smell bouillabaisse or pasta with too much olive oil, I get sick to my stomach to this day), "American", pan-Asian and such... I wish I'd worked in a family kitchen, so I wouldn'ta hadta deal with such douchewaffles. But I did wind up puttin' the fear of god in alla them eventually. In-A-Hurry-Rhion-With-Boiling-Pots or Sharp Knives = Get the fuck outta her way or she will stab/pour on you.
...Interestingly I was never fired. I quit.