Mattress Saga - Part 3
The Final Hurdle
Many of you have been asking what is happening with my mattress. Frankly I'm flattered you care... I thought I might be banging on about it a bit much but it seems my bed drama is fascinating, so here is the latest.
I left off my last mattress blog with a visit from the mattress inspector imminent. The mattress inspector came, he saw, he bounced. He was very serious about his inspection... measuring, prodding and poking. He concluded that my mattress definitely did have an indentation and also crackled in a bizarre manner. I offered him a cup of tea in gratitude as he wrote up his report. He then gave me the report to read and sign. I thought this was perfunctory because he had pretty much admitted I was right and it was faulty but as I read down the paragraph I dribbled out a bit of tea, suddenly aghast! Nice, Mr Inspector had written that although my mattress had an indentation and a crackle, it was possible this could have been caused by wear and tear by the owner. “WHAT???” I said. He explained that because he was only inspecting the mattress after I had already been in possession of it for 25 day, it could be a natural compression caused by me sleeping on it. “WHAT????” I said again, incredulous, “But that's impossible... I called the shop after sleeping on the damn thing for only 2 nights, it couldn't have been caused by me.” He said he had been given no past details, that he was giving his inspection based on how the mattress was now... today. Now I hate to admit this because it's such a low blow, but I burst into tears. Spluttering and gasping I said, “But that's so unfair, it was faulty before I even slept on it. I sent all the dates of my complaints to head office already and Derrane at the bed shop already agreed there was a problem so how can you say I caused it??” I'm not actually sure I said that with a degree of clarity because I was smothering my face in a tissue. The mattress inspector was terribly embarrassed and couldn't meet my eye. He coughed gently and proffered the clip board again, “So I take it Miss Sellars, you are refusing to sign?” I wailed dramatically, “Of course I'm not signing, it's all so unfair!” He looked at me with resignation, apologised that there was nothing more he could do and promptly left. I threw myself onto my bed, sobbing hysterically, until I realised it was so damn uncomfortable that I had to get up and throw myself on my sofa, sobbing hysterically.
The next few weeks passed in a haze of frenzied email writing, angry phone calls and threats of involving my non-existent solicitor if the matter was not sorted out to my satisfaction. Over this period, I got quite attached to my imaginary solicitor who I named James. Indeed, James was very good at his job and basically scared the bed shop silly when he mentioned the evil words ‘Consumer Rights’ and ‘Compensation’. I obviously did a ridiculous amount of research on James' behalf and now know everything there is to know about beds and what the customer can and cannot expect. James was so successful in his negotiations that the Regional Manager (no less) finally offered his most sincere apologies for everything I had been through and said he would happily let me have any mattress in the shop (within reason) whenever it was convenient for me to pop to Croydon again. Oh God!
So six weeks ago, I popped down to Croydon and was greeted by a very happy Derrane. He was beaming from ear to ear, almost went in for a hug and said how thrilled he was that it had all worked out for me. He said he was so very happy to show me all the new Sealy models. “Oh no,” I said, “No more Sealy beds for me. I want an old fashioned mattress... a semi-firm pocket sprung. No latex toppers, no memory foam, no bells and whistles, no nothing”. He looked terribly disappointed and shrugged, rubbing his chin. He then grinned and took my arm, leading me to the back of the shop. He stopped in front of a plain mattress and did a ‘ta dah’ gesture with his hand.
"This mattress, Miss Sillas, is perfeck for you. It's got 1700 pocket springs right, it's hand crafted in engerland innit and lots of famous have it so it's gotta be good right?" he said. I leapt onto the mattress with eager enthusiasm. It was firm and comfortable and just... normal. Derrane hovered over me expectantly. "You know sum fink Miss Sellar, this mattress is wot we sell in fousands to the harmed services. All de hofficers have dem". Well, that can't be a bad thing I thought. "Derrane I think I've found my mattress." He grinned. "So who else have you sold this mattress to... You said famous people?" I wanted to be in good company you understand. "Oh yes, Mrs Sella, lots of famous people. The harshbiship of cantbry has one and that bloke who lives at number 10." He frowned. "You mean David Cameron, our Prime Minister?" I asked agog. He did that snapping thing with his fingers and laughed. "Yeah man, that's him. David Camroon". Ha ha, so I potentially have a mattress that our PM sleeps on, our armed forces sleep on and the head of the church of England. Not bad. I shook his hand vigorously and Derrane put the order in, saying the mattress would be delivered in six weeks (handmade again you see). I thanked Derrane again for all his help and headed for the door, relieved that I would never set foot in the place again! "You'll stay in touch though innit Miss Sellar?" That stumped me. "Well I don't think so Derrane, this whole thing has been a truly hideous nightmare." He did that sucking teeth thing and shook his head, "But if you need anover mattress then you'll come back right?" and he laughed a sort of evil villain laugh. That must be mattress manager humour because it certainly didn't tickle my funny bone!
I then went on holiday and when I came back, I rang Derrane at the bed shop to see when the mattresses would be delivered. A strange voice answered the phone. "Is Derrane there please?" I asked. "This is Winston, the bed department manager, how can I help?" Another Jamaican accent. I honestly think Paul Simon bed shops single-handedly recruit all the bed managers in Jamaica. I personally have met 3 in 4 months! "Um, is it possible to speak to Derrane?" "Yes, this is Winston." Oh no. Try a different tack. "Hi Winston, is Derrane in the shop today?" "No, Derrane doesn't work here anymore, can I hep you?" Oh dear. So, first Stan and now Derrane. Do I have a curse on all these poor men losing their jobs? I tried asking what had happened to Derrane but Winston was having none of it so I finally just asked about my mattress and he said I would have it by the end of the week. Wooohhhoooo.
My mattress arrived on a sunny Friday afternoon and I jumped on it with wild abandon. I almost broke my back, my God it was hard. I'm talking, slab of concrete hard, not just a bit firm. I checked the order and it was absolutely correct... semi firm 1700 pocket sprung. I lay there for a moment and thought, well... better firm than soft eh? Maybe it's like a pair of shoes or a horse and just needs breaking in a bit? Possibly the one in the bed shop had been compressed a bit by all the bodies testing it. My first night was not good though, I spent hours rolling around trying to get comfortable to no avail. I then thought, I'm creative, I can customise my own damn mattress. I stripped the bed, unzipped a lovely squidgy sleeping bag and put that on top of the mattress. On top of that I put a quilted mattress protector. On top of that I put a thick goose down duvet and on top of that my fitted sheet. It looked like something out of the Princess and the Pea, but ahhhh, much better. I think a few years of bouncing around and it'll be perfect!
I collected all the paperwork together to file away and guess what... this whole ordeal started on April 1st, with the first mattress order. I couldn't belive it. Ha-bloody-ha!!
Many of you have been asking what is happening with my mattress. Frankly I'm flattered you care... I thought I might be banging on about it a bit much but it seems my bed drama is fascinating, so here is the latest.
I left off my last mattress blog with a visit from the mattress inspector imminent. The mattress inspector came, he saw, he bounced. He was very serious about his inspection... measuring, prodding and poking. He concluded that my mattress definitely did have an indentation and also crackled in a bizarre manner. I offered him a cup of tea in gratitude as he wrote up his report. He then gave me the report to read and sign. I thought this was perfunctory because he had pretty much admitted I was right and it was faulty but as I read down the paragraph I dribbled out a bit of tea, suddenly aghast! Nice, Mr Inspector had written that although my mattress had an indentation and a crackle, it was possible this could have been caused by wear and tear by the owner. “WHAT???” I said. He explained that because he was only inspecting the mattress after I had already been in possession of it for 25 day, it could be a natural compression caused by me sleeping on it. “WHAT????” I said again, incredulous, “But that's impossible... I called the shop after sleeping on the damn thing for only 2 nights, it couldn't have been caused by me.” He said he had been given no past details, that he was giving his inspection based on how the mattress was now... today. Now I hate to admit this because it's such a low blow, but I burst into tears. Spluttering and gasping I said, “But that's so unfair, it was faulty before I even slept on it. I sent all the dates of my complaints to head office already and Derrane at the bed shop already agreed there was a problem so how can you say I caused it??” I'm not actually sure I said that with a degree of clarity because I was smothering my face in a tissue. The mattress inspector was terribly embarrassed and couldn't meet my eye. He coughed gently and proffered the clip board again, “So I take it Miss Sellars, you are refusing to sign?” I wailed dramatically, “Of course I'm not signing, it's all so unfair!” He looked at me with resignation, apologised that there was nothing more he could do and promptly left. I threw myself onto my bed, sobbing hysterically, until I realised it was so damn uncomfortable that I had to get up and throw myself on my sofa, sobbing hysterically.
The next few weeks passed in a haze of frenzied email writing, angry phone calls and threats of involving my non-existent solicitor if the matter was not sorted out to my satisfaction. Over this period, I got quite attached to my imaginary solicitor who I named James. Indeed, James was very good at his job and basically scared the bed shop silly when he mentioned the evil words ‘Consumer Rights’ and ‘Compensation’. I obviously did a ridiculous amount of research on James' behalf and now know everything there is to know about beds and what the customer can and cannot expect. James was so successful in his negotiations that the Regional Manager (no less) finally offered his most sincere apologies for everything I had been through and said he would happily let me have any mattress in the shop (within reason) whenever it was convenient for me to pop to Croydon again. Oh God!
So six weeks ago, I popped down to Croydon and was greeted by a very happy Derrane. He was beaming from ear to ear, almost went in for a hug and said how thrilled he was that it had all worked out for me. He said he was so very happy to show me all the new Sealy models. “Oh no,” I said, “No more Sealy beds for me. I want an old fashioned mattress... a semi-firm pocket sprung. No latex toppers, no memory foam, no bells and whistles, no nothing”. He looked terribly disappointed and shrugged, rubbing his chin. He then grinned and took my arm, leading me to the back of the shop. He stopped in front of a plain mattress and did a ‘ta dah’ gesture with his hand.
"This mattress, Miss Sillas, is perfeck for you. It's got 1700 pocket springs right, it's hand crafted in engerland innit and lots of famous have it so it's gotta be good right?" he said. I leapt onto the mattress with eager enthusiasm. It was firm and comfortable and just... normal. Derrane hovered over me expectantly. "You know sum fink Miss Sellar, this mattress is wot we sell in fousands to the harmed services. All de hofficers have dem". Well, that can't be a bad thing I thought. "Derrane I think I've found my mattress." He grinned. "So who else have you sold this mattress to... You said famous people?" I wanted to be in good company you understand. "Oh yes, Mrs Sella, lots of famous people. The harshbiship of cantbry has one and that bloke who lives at number 10." He frowned. "You mean David Cameron, our Prime Minister?" I asked agog. He did that snapping thing with his fingers and laughed. "Yeah man, that's him. David Camroon". Ha ha, so I potentially have a mattress that our PM sleeps on, our armed forces sleep on and the head of the church of England. Not bad. I shook his hand vigorously and Derrane put the order in, saying the mattress would be delivered in six weeks (handmade again you see). I thanked Derrane again for all his help and headed for the door, relieved that I would never set foot in the place again! "You'll stay in touch though innit Miss Sellar?" That stumped me. "Well I don't think so Derrane, this whole thing has been a truly hideous nightmare." He did that sucking teeth thing and shook his head, "But if you need anover mattress then you'll come back right?" and he laughed a sort of evil villain laugh. That must be mattress manager humour because it certainly didn't tickle my funny bone!
I then went on holiday and when I came back, I rang Derrane at the bed shop to see when the mattresses would be delivered. A strange voice answered the phone. "Is Derrane there please?" I asked. "This is Winston, the bed department manager, how can I help?" Another Jamaican accent. I honestly think Paul Simon bed shops single-handedly recruit all the bed managers in Jamaica. I personally have met 3 in 4 months! "Um, is it possible to speak to Derrane?" "Yes, this is Winston." Oh no. Try a different tack. "Hi Winston, is Derrane in the shop today?" "No, Derrane doesn't work here anymore, can I hep you?" Oh dear. So, first Stan and now Derrane. Do I have a curse on all these poor men losing their jobs? I tried asking what had happened to Derrane but Winston was having none of it so I finally just asked about my mattress and he said I would have it by the end of the week. Wooohhhoooo.
My mattress arrived on a sunny Friday afternoon and I jumped on it with wild abandon. I almost broke my back, my God it was hard. I'm talking, slab of concrete hard, not just a bit firm. I checked the order and it was absolutely correct... semi firm 1700 pocket sprung. I lay there for a moment and thought, well... better firm than soft eh? Maybe it's like a pair of shoes or a horse and just needs breaking in a bit? Possibly the one in the bed shop had been compressed a bit by all the bodies testing it. My first night was not good though, I spent hours rolling around trying to get comfortable to no avail. I then thought, I'm creative, I can customise my own damn mattress. I stripped the bed, unzipped a lovely squidgy sleeping bag and put that on top of the mattress. On top of that I put a quilted mattress protector. On top of that I put a thick goose down duvet and on top of that my fitted sheet. It looked like something out of the Princess and the Pea, but ahhhh, much better. I think a few years of bouncing around and it'll be perfect!
I collected all the paperwork together to file away and guess what... this whole ordeal started on April 1st, with the first mattress order. I couldn't belive it. Ha-bloody-ha!!
Comments
Go girl and happy sleeping!
Nickixx
I thought the 3rd part will be about you asking for a refund and buying another mattress from another store.
But you still found a way to work it out. Congratulations for that!
I hope you’re still using the mattress up to this day and that you’re having a good sleep :)
{Jimmy Colwell}