Getting up on the wrong side of the bed

“I need a new bed,” I said to the salesman. “We are upgrading from a queen to a king.” After 30 years of marriage my husband had decided he was the king of our castle and thus required a bed befitting his authority. Of course, the real reason was because our bed was so old that one of the slats on the frame was broken and our mattress sagged so far in the middle that when we both got into bed, we rolled into the center and smacked into each other like a couple of beached sea lions.

I actually would have found the whole thing hilarious, especially since we both knew I was the ruler of the Beckerman kingdom, had it not been for the astronomical prices of a bed frame, box spring and mattress. Naturally I was charged to go out and find the most economical solution to our problem, but after trying out a couple of places that looked like they supplied their beds to the kinds of motels where the beds shake when you put a quarter in, I decided to up my budget to find something better.

This latest bed store seemed to have a decent selection, but since I am not a bed aficionado, I decided I needed some help to sort out which bed was right for us.

“Do you want medium firm, firm or extra firm?” my salesman Gregg asked.

“Firm,” I said.

“Inner spring, pillowtop or memory foam?

“Um, pillowtop,” I said, guessing. “Adjustable or standard?” “Standard.”

“Great! Let me show you a couple of models.” Right away he guided me over to what was probably the Lamborghinis of the bed world.

“This is our Floyd model,” he said proudly.

I stopped and blinked. “You named the best bed in your showroom, Floyd?”

“Yeah, isn’t he a beaut?”

“Why would you name this bed Floyd. Doesn’t it deserve a sexier name like Liam or Trent?”

He stared at me blankly. “Do you want to know the specifications?”

“No.” I said adamantly. “First I want to know what it is about this bed that you thought was especially Floyd-like.”

“I, um ... er, I think it was named after the owner’s father.”

“That would make sense, but as someone who used to be in marketing, I can tell you, you’re going to have a much easier time selling this bed if it were named it The Dylan or The Jake.”

“You think so?” he said. “I guess we can consider that. In the meantime, what do you think of this bed?”

“Too expensive,” I said. “What else have you got?”

He led me across the showroom to another fancy bed.

“This is the Fabio.”

“Are you kidding me?

“No. Why?”

“The Fabio is the bed that is going to lead your wife astray when you’re out of town,” I said.

He grimaced. I could tell that he was starting to get concerned he was going to lose the sale. Finally, he took me one aisle over where I saw the numbers on the prices tags come down significantly.

“This bed has all the features you were looking for in the price range you wanted,” he said, presenting a more down to earth-looking mattress.

“Okay, what’s this one called?” “This is The Sleeping Beauty.” “Well, THAT one makes sense,” I said enthusiastically. I sat on the edge of the bed and bounced and lay down and rolled over.

“So what do you think?” he asked. “Is this the one?”

I think so Gregg,” I said ... “But let me sleep on it.”

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