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Saturday, June 03, 2006Trying to Sleep Tight
I did some bed shopping with Christine before I had to wolf watch. She told me she wanted to go with me instead of The Steff... because she wanted to make sure I got something that I would be happy with as opposed to something The Steff would want for herself and I readily agreed... because out of everyone Christine knows me best. I never realized exactly how complicated a bed purchase would be... and now that I have a better understanding I am wondering if getting a good night's sleep is worth the aggravation or not.
First, I wanted to get a Queen sized Captain's Bed like I used to have until Pudding sold my $700 one for $70. For those not in the know, the Captain's Bed I used to have had a total of 8 drawes and two cupboard like doors for storage. Well because of the heavy rains last night and the fact the neighbor concreted over his yard, the basement where I will be sleeping got two inches of water. That pretty much effectively ruled out a Captain's Bed because I don't want to spend that type of money again to only have to get rid of the bed because of water damage.
So the first store Christine and I walked into was the store with the bed I had originally wanted... but with the flooding fresh in my mind... we moved on. So then we went to Sleepy's. Now I've requested and received some divine advice on this purchase which recommended Serta. I was also tipped off by someone who knows how important a good bed can be for convalescing that Sterns & Foster may be the way to go. Since Sterns & Foster is sold by Sleepy's... well hey... maybe this won't be so hard after all.
I have zero tolerance for stupidity and less tolerance for shopping. I wanted to be in and out so Christine and I could go get some lunch. I was at Sleepy's for quite literally nine minutes before she yanked me out of there. Why did it go so hellish?
Well first when we walked in, this little weasily guy comes over and asks if he can help us. Of course I say yes and tell him we're looking for a Queen sized mattress. I think I sent him into shock since he just stood there mouth agape. He just stood there for a solid minute. Then Christine interjected and suggested he take us to the Queen mattress section, preferably a Serta brand. That seemed to jar him out of it. Maybe he was new... or stupid... or both.
So off we go. He shows us the first one. So we lay on it. I try it on my back, my side, my stomach, and then back to my back. She starts by sitting on the edge and bouncing a little, then her stomach, her side, and her back. It was nice and firm... but a little too firm for me. I wanted something softer. Christine agreed with me. So I asked if there were any Serta pillow tops or a Sterns & Foster. The guy just stood there mouth agape. Now... I was getting pissed. Did he not hear me? Was his Whisper 3000 not turned on? Do I stutter? Well yeah... I do... but not at that moment so what was his problem?
That's when I realized it. He was staring at her tits. Now understand that Christine was flatter than a surfboard... up until she got pregnant and had the baby. Now she's a healthy C cup and she tends to show it off by wearing tight shirts and body suits. This perv was probably fantasizing of wacking her seven ways to Sunday... or wondering what a girl like that was doing with a guy like me buying a bed and that was the idea that enraged me. I hate men.
So I got off the bed and walked next to him... and yes... I violated his personal space. He seemed startled and jumpy and I simply said, "If you don't take your eyes off her I'll remove them from your head the hard way." He stepped back stammering as I circled around the bed, took her by the hand and started walking out.
As we were headed to the door this idiot actually said something back to me. I stopped and whirled around and asked him what he said. Of course he stammered again and shrunk back. Christine squeezed a hold of my hand and dragged me out of the store.
Fifteen minutes later I'm having an Ultimate Mudslide at TGIF's while she rubbed my shoulder down. Of course I got the standard lecture of how she's a big girl, how I have to control my anger better (which I pointed out to her I did... I never raised my voice, called him a name, nor did I raise my hands to him), how I need to stop allowing the stress build up, and how I really need to go find a personal masseuse because everytime she rubs my shoulder out her hand gets tired and cramped.
When I dropped her off I thanked her for going with me and proudly told her that I would be calling 1-800-Mattres come Monday because this shopping thing just wasn't going to cut it with the idiot salespeople these stores obviously employ today.
In the tradition of T I now present you with the "Bolded Question of the Post":
So when I call 1-800-Mattres what should I get?