Thursday,  December 12 , 2024

Linkedin Pinterest
News / Community

Everybody Has a Story: Mattress buy adds extra excitement to trip to the fair

By Mary Gunther, Burton Ridge
Published: October 14, 2015, 6:17am

My husband, Dave, didn’t want to go to the fair, but I talked him into it. It turned out to be a beautiful night and a propitious moment for buying.

Maybe it was the nice ride to the Clark County Event Center at the Fairgrounds on the bus. We always travel to the county fair that way because having the bus pick us up at J.C. Penney is just so convenient and thrifty. I can’t think of a better bargain, and the bus lets you off right in front of the gate near the Exhibition Hall. From there, it’s an easy walk to wherever one wants to go.

We got a discount on the tickets, so that made Dave happy. We walked to the Expo Hall, and the first thing that caught my eye was the mattress sale. I’d been casing mattresses for some time, and I had mentioned to Dave that we should think about them. He’d been complaining that he woke up sore and was wondering if a new mattress might help. Seeing these bright new mattresses, all puffy and soft, was enticing. Before we knew it, we were stretched out on a big white king-sized monster.

The tall, handsome salesman, “call me Bradley,” shook our hands and told us all about it. A discussion of our “needs” followed. Dave must have been feeling pretty relaxed, because he listened, and then I got enthused. It seemed like the right moment to buy.

But, of course, we had to dicker. The price was steep, but salesman “call me Bradley” was throwing in goodies. Bradley would “eat up” the taxes himself, and he added in the necessary new sheets (seems our old sheets wouldn’t do) and pillows and the nice soft memory foam. But, of course, he never lowered the price.

I kept talking up Dave’s sore back and the good night’s sleep we would have. Dave was almost hooked. Free delivery — now that was a good one! And the topper: we could sleep on it for 100 nights and return it if we didn’t like it. All this and we could pay on time, if we chose.

We talked abut going outside to think it over, as we had often done with deals before. That always gives us a chance possibly to reject the idea on the grounds of sanity, but this time we didn’t. We signed up using a computer machine which took an inordinate amount of time, it seemed to me; we showed IDs and gave Social Security numbers. I felt I could get heart surgery with less fuss, but we had the time. I don’t know what was in Dave’s mind, but he pulled out all the cards and figured out a payment plan with care, if not aplomb. “Call me Bradley”‘s face was taut as he tried not to give away his delight at this sale, but I thought I detected inner glee.

I stayed out of the way while reciting to myself all the justifications I could to make this moment right.

It’s our anniversary, our mattresses are 15 years old, we can probably sell them or give them away. This should improve the quality of our lives — really! We can afford this if we don’t take a major trip this year. We have the money. We don’t want to give it to our kids or grandkids. Not that they don’t deserve it — they don’t.

But more than that, we want to spend it on ourselves. Yes, we do. We’ve scrimped and scraped and done it ourselves our whole married life (60 years). Our children never wanted for a home or food, or medical care, education or a good time growing up and now they are grown and have their own children to work for.

We’re not in a position to buy them houses or send their kids through college. And anyway, we don’t believe we should do that for them. We believe it’s their job to provide for their own kids while we take care not to be a burden on them.

So we did it. We treated ourselves and bought the mattress. We’ll have to live with the guilt it costs us.

We strode out the door and walked through the crowds, gazing at the vendors and mulling over the giant step we had taken. Another adventure for us. We indulged ourselves in a greasy warm sugary elephant ear, washed down by the bottled water we brought with us to save money (ha!). It was too cool to ride the Ferris wheel, and we were lightheaded already. On the bus ride home we dozed, dreaming of the good sleep in store for us and hoping we would live long enough to get our money’s worth out of these mattresses.

Ya think?


 

Everybody has a Story welcomes nonfiction contributions, 1,000 words maximum, and relevant photographs. Email is the best way to send materials so we don’t have to retype your words or borrow original photos. Send to: neighbors@columbian.com or P.O. Box 180, Vancouver WA, 98666. Call “Everybody Has an Editor” Scott Hewitt, 360-735-4525, with questions.

Support local journalism

Your tax-deductible donation to The Columbian’s Community Funded Journalism program will contribute to better local reporting on key issues, including homelessness, housing, transportation and the environment. Reporters will focus on narrative, investigative and data-driven storytelling.

Local journalism needs your help. It’s an essential part of a healthy community and a healthy democracy.

Community Funded Journalism logo
Loading...
Tags