If you’ve ever gone to a slumber party, gotten all boozed up on Mountain Dew and Ruffles, then, unintentionally (and you’re never invited to sleep at my house if you’ve done this intentionally), peed on a friend’s bed, then you were probably a member of the bedwetter’s club growing up. If you haven’t experienced the sheer horror of waking up, groggy at a friend’s place, only to discover that the giant (see. Tiny) water balloon you call your bladder has exploded all over the place, then trust me, it is one of the most horrifying experiences a ten year-old can go through (other than having a pop fly blast you in the face, breaking your nose at baseball tryouts…yeah, I was that kid). But, in retrospect, I attribute much of my current success (and by success, I mean the fact that I’m able to pay rent each month) to the fact that I was a chronic bedwetter growing up.
You see, when you’re a bedwetter, just deciding to go to a slumber party is a huge social risk (and an opportunity to shotgun non-alcoholic beverages). Let’s face it, kids are mean and they don’t take kindly to someone peeing on their stuff (go figure). Going to a slumber party, when you’re a bedwetter, takes courage (and adult diapers). But, if you actually do the one thing that you hope you don’t do (piss out a 12-pack of Fresca), that’s when you really have to be on your game. They say that fat kids learn how to be funny to make up for being overweight. Well, bedwetters not only have to crank the charisma up to 11, but they also have to develop pretty intense problem solving skills at a very early age. Because, when you’re a bedwetter, there’s a big difference in wetting the bed and having someone else discover you wet the bed (most bedwetters would be perfect candidates for a covert operation).
Bedwetter Scenario:
You’re 7 years-old and just spent the night owning on Double Dragon (that’s why you’re dead, stupid machine gun dude!). Everyone passed out around 4am and you crawled into your Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle sleeping bag. Now it’s 8am and dammit, you shouldn’t have had those last six Hawaiian Punches, because now you’re lying in a wet blanket with eight of your closest friends sporadically sprawled across the living room floor.
A laymen to this scenario might panic, but a seasoned pro keeps a cool head. Assessing the situation, you know that the laundry room is next to the kitchen. It’s Saturday, so your friend’s parents won’t be up until 10am, which buys you some time. You ball up your sopping linens and head to the washroom. You run a short cycle on the washer, and dump the linens, but you can’t throw your clothes in, unless you want to roam aimlessly around the house naked for the next hour and a half (tempting, but unproductive). So, you make your way to the guest bedroom and find the extra swimsuits your friend’s mom offered everyone the day before. You undress, throw the loaner swimsuit on and toss your wet garments in with the linens. You check the living room and everyone’s still sleeping.
The carpet is a little wet, so you find some pet spot remover under the sink (and oddly enough, a box of It’s a Boy! cigars) and quietly spray it down. To speed up the drying process, you flip the switch to the overhead fan and then sneak out to the backyard pool. Now you find yourself leaping, as you swan dive into the water, washing in a chlorine bath. Back in the laundry room, you swap the clothes to the dryer and throw some some dry towels in to speed things up. Butter a bagel and turn the coffee pot on and 30-minutes later, you’re back in your clothes from the night before. Spread your linens back out, go get the newspaper and voila! When everyone wakes up, you’re just an innocent 7-year old, drinking coffee and reading the financial section of the Wall Street Journal. “Can you believe what the NASDAQ did this week?”
Wetting the bed is a lot for a 7-year old to go through, both emotionally and physically (have you ever tried swan diving without a diving board?). And God forbid you aren’t so lucky as to cover your tracks. You haven’t committed social suicide until you’ve woken up to wet shorts and 8 laughing faces all pointing fingers at you. Fortunately, you grow a thick skin and learn to be funny after this happens a couple of times and then, eventually, you don’t wet the bed anymore. The rest of those laughing heads will spend the next 25 years cowering in the face of adversity and paying a therapist to tell them why they aren’t more assertive, but the bedwetter has been there, done that. The bedwetter makes friends with everyone, because it’s easier to make it through grade school (and everything else), unscathed, when you have allies. Nothing in the business world compares to the ridicule a group of 10-year old’s can unleash.
My name is Jon Ray. When I was a kid, I wet the bed. To counter this physical flaw, I learned how to be charismatic, thick-skinned, assertive and funny. These social skills stuck with me long after I stopped wetting the bed and they just so happen to be the skills that have allowed me to thrive in the business world. In retrospect, I’m glad I spent my formidable years peeing on myself, because without that, I might be asking, “Do you want fries with that?”
“If peeing in your pants is cool, consider me Miles Davis.” - Billy Madison
What horrifying events from childhood still plague your mind? How did you overcome or learn from them? Aren’t kids mean? Leave a comment.
