My mattress, which has been looking rather worn for a while now, finally gave up the ghost -a little spring poking its end out of the side. This coincides with council hard rubbish collection next week and the fortuitous arrival of a flyer in my letterbox detailing a mattress sale at a local factory warehouse. I took this convergence of events to be a sign that the time was right to buy a new mattress and promptly commenced researching mattresses.
The prices offered by the warehouse were very good value so I took myself there.
I was the only customer so had the full attention of the saleswoman. She asked me what I was after and I explained the need for a firm, supportive mattress. Naturally she showed me their top line product, and though I had no intention of spending over $1000 on a mattress I sat on the bed anyway curious about how good it could possibly be. I sank in a good three inches before I felt any support and told the saleswoman that I preferred something much firmer, like the mattress I already had. And she responded in exactly the same tone, and almost the same words, as the character Barbara from the bank world adds: If you like your old mattress so much, why are you buying a new one?
For a nanosecond I thought she was making a joke but her face and body language said otherwise. My instinctive reaction was to take my custom elsewhere but the prices were excellent and the mischievous imp inside me instantaneously came up with a plan to have a bit of fun. Without batting an eye I answered: Because we broke ours.
She then proceeded to show me the rest of their range. On each mattress I lay on my back, rolled over onto my side then sat up and bounced a bit finally culminating in kneeling and swaying slightly. After the third time she asked, in the exasperated tone one would usually use with a truculent two year old:
Is there a reason you’re bouncing and kneeling on the beds?
Straight faced I reply: I have a very active sex life.
Like a cartoon character, her jaw almost hit the floor. I had to bite my cheek to keep from laughing. I selected a mattress for myself and on impulse decided to buy one for boy genius as well since his was getting on and the prices were so good. I explained I also needed a double bed mattress for my son. She once again showed me their top line model and I told her I wouldn’t be spending over $1000 on a mattress. She then showed me their most popular model. I sat on it, it felt soft yet supportive and it was very well priced so I said I’d take it. She then asked me if I wanted to lay on it and give it a bounce. I couldn’t resist, in my most appalled voice I answered: I won’t be sleeping on this one. It’s for my son.
I held it together long enough to pay and arrange delivery then had a good old giggle all the way home. I probably shouldn’t have teased the poor woman like that but I’ve never know such poor customer service in my life-and I’ve dealt with Myki.
