What I Learned Doing Other People’s Laundry For 9 Months
There’s a bizarre intimacy about washing someone’s dirty underwear.
My mother never made me do my laundry as a kid. Say what you will. Say I was spoiled. Say anything. The fact remains that, as far as laundry was concerned, by the time I moved out of the house at 18, I was utterly helpless in that department.
This came back to haunt me when I got a job at a laundromat when I was 20.
I had just moved to Key West, Florida, an island paradise bustling with tourists, and I didn’t just need one job to make the rent—I needed at least two. A friend of mine suggested the quaint little laundromat up the street from where I was living. An eccentric French man owned that, and he was always hiring.
So, one day, I rode my yellow island cruiser over to investigate.
The temperature inside this laundromat was probably about 10 degrees hotter than it was outside, and it was in the 90s outside. There were people in there doing their laundry and then there was a lady in the corner next to a door. She exchanged money with patrons and handed them laundry baskets full of neatly folded clothes and bedding accessories. I assumed that this woman must work there.
I went over and asked if the owner was available. She entered the backroom and, seconds later, a man came out to greet me. He was a short, handsome man in his 30s. His accent was French. He was polite yet straight to the point. He asked me about my availability and my work ethic.
Unsurprisingly, the owner explained that the turnover rate at this place was high. Lots of young people and hippie types would pass through the island looking for fast cash in exchange for a few weeks of labor. Additionally, a lot of people said they wanted a job but once they realized how physical the work of doing other people’s laundry was, they never came back to work.
Knowing in my mind how terrible my own laundry skills were, I shook this man’s hand and said I was up for the job anyway. I had absolutely no idea what I was getting into.
What I was getting into was a top-rated laundry service for people who either didn’t have the time to do their laundry or who simply didn’t want to do it. The laundromat was busy all day and into the evening, nonstop, from dawn until dusk.
That first week was like laundry boot camp. Of course, colors and whites needed to be separated. My boss was very particular about how the laundry should be loaded into the washer, when the detergent should be poured in, and how clothes and sheets should be folded to perfection.
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After the first day of work, I was physically exhausted. My arm muscles were brutally sore. I never imagined doing laundry would be so hard. The pressure to perform was intense because people would drop off their dirty laundry and come back for it within hours. There were only so many washers and dryers and only so much time. We had to share the appliances with the public who came in to do their laundry so it was a real time crunch in every way.
Who knew that doing laundry could be so physically and mentally stressful?
And then there was the smell. The smell of people’s dirty laundry when they brought it in and plopped it on the counter. It was indescribable. Some of it smelled as though it had been sitting for days.
Many of the laundromat customers worked jobs where they cooked, waited tables, or labored in construction so their clothes were battered with food or filthy from the elements. I washed and folded people’s underwear. People I didn’t know. That was odd. Eventually, I ended up doing the laundry of a former co-worker and an ex-boss.
There’s a bizarre intimacy about washing someone’s dirty underwear — especially someone you don’t know or someone who you worked with but didn’t know personally.
One day, the owner had me start training with a new girl who was a bit younger than me. She had total flower-child vibes. Her smile was huge and she always wore red overalls. Her hair was dark golden brown, unkept, and dangled down to her derriere. I still remember her to this day, although I can’t remember her name. I still wonder what happened to her. She and I spent many hot evenings at either end of a sheet folding it just so, from point to point, listening to music on the radio and talking about life.
I worked at that laundromat for the better part of a year. I probably lost about 10 pounds running around in there all day, sweating in the heat.
And—I learned how to do laundry. I learned how to do laundry better than I ever thought I could. To this day, I remember all the tips and tricks my boss taught me at that little island laundromat.
I’m now a mom and I’ve already taught my young daughter to do her laundry. Sometimes life has a way of giving us a crash course in things we need to learn. I certainly got one.
Not only did I learn how to quickly and efficiently wash clothes but I caught a glimpse into all kinds of people and what they do with their dirty laundry — literally.
It was an experience I’ll never forget, especially the dozens of balmy nights I spent folding sheets with the beautiful girl in the red overalls.
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