The Bet
By: Harry Seitz
Tags: Pain, Servers, Betting, Homeless, Hygiene

The Bet

When I was working at a restaurant, I used to hang out with a fellow waiter named Jason. We’d get off work around midnight, then basically go on a bender.

One afternoon, after a particularly bad one, we both woke up on his floor, which was filthy. His entire apartment was a mess. There were chicken bones on the floor, and I once found half a pizza under one of his couch cushions, not to mention all the empties and cigarette butts.

Fortunately, he lived right above the restaurant, so we ran down and stole some beer from the bar. The bartender told us we were already drunk enough, and looked like shit, but there was no way we’d be able to work without drinking, so we ignored him.

Afterwards, we went down to our lockers in the basement. Other waiters were already down there, getting ready for the day. They all looked at us, but one said “Did you guys have some kind of bet? Who can go the longest without showering?”

Jason and I looked at each other, and set up some ground rules. The job required us to shave, so we’d have to do that, but no bathing or showering allowed. We had to wash our hands, but agreed that we weren’t allowed to use the rain. If you got rained on, fine, but no using it to clean yourself.

After the first few days, you start to stink and itch, so we used a lot of deodorant. After a couple weeks, you become so dirty, it literally begins to hurt. We would talk about it and commiserate, but a bet was a bet.

It rained a couple nights later, and I cheated. I hid between two cars and pulled my pants down to wash my privates, and pulled my shirt off to wash under my armpits. It was one of the best feelings I’ve ever had in my life. I keep my hair short, but dug into it anyway. Chunks of my scalp came off in my hands. When I took off my shoes and socks to wash my feet, I nearly gagged. Large pieces of skin also came off of them, and while it was a relief, I found myself reconsidering my entire life and all of my stupid decisions, especially the one to make this stupid bet.

The next day at the restaurant, Jason and I could both tell we had cheated by using the rain. We agreed to call off the bet, but that as punishment, we both had to go another month. But after the cheating incident, we were much more suspicious of each other.

He caught me in the bathroom washing my armpits, and I caught him washing his balls.

We were both single, which probably goes without saying, and hated our jobs, so made a new agreement that every time we caught each other cheating, it was another month.

I never showered or cheated in my apartment, and neither did he. Most nights, we were together drinking, and it was impossible, but we were both honorable people. Cheating in the outside world was unacceptable, but to be expected, while cheating at home would be despicable.

Together, we went through the worst three months of our lives. Again, being that dirty physically hurts, and it also hurts your morale, even with the cheating. The third month, we both silently mutually agreed not to try to catch each other cheating. We just wanted it to be over.

If there’s a moral to this story, I can’t see it. But I do know that Jason and I brought out the best (and worst) in each other, and that being homeless and unable to shower must be a nightmare.