Mattresses, unbeknownst to many, are a lot like cars. Every year new ones roll out, they’re always tweaking and innovating and you’ll never find the same one you loved decades ago when buying a new one.
Where I sold mattresses had a three month return or exchange program for this reason. New beds take a while to break in, and they’re a big expense. Your body is used to the old one. So we made sure people were loving it. If a bed got returned we’d take it back, sanitize and clean it, then sell it again on clearance.
To sell these we always had to disclose what clearance meant to customers, and they had to sign that they knew what they were getting. (FYI, not every company is as… forthright about the used bed situation)
In clearance we had beds that were floor models, we had returns, and more rarely we had old models whose line had been discontinued. These clearance beds were always final sale, so a bed could only be sold twice.
Now, the manager at the store I was working at had realized a vital fact. Clearance beds in the warehouse didn’t sell, especially old models that salespeople weren’t familiar with. And even more especially in odd sizes, like twin extra longs. So he set up a split king on the showroom floor to exhibit clearance beds, pulling all those forgotten twin extra longs out onto the showroom.
Almost all of these were brand new discontinued models. Beds I’d never learned in training were exhumed to be displayed. The manufacturers had moved on to new lines and they’d been left behind. Why would he take such in interest in selling old stock, you might wonder? Because we made double commission on the sales margin of clearance beds, and if we’d had a bed long enough they dropped the cost in the system so it was a fucking cash cow to sell these. Even with huge discounts the commissions were wonderful so it was a win win.
When I got started I was jazzed about this program, I was so on board to sell weird old brand new beds and make a ton of money. I had a wonderful older couple come in, looking for a split king adjustable set. This was a white whale sale.
The current clearance models on the floor were a latex mattress that was brand new despite being of an age to start first grade, and a tempurpedic floor model. The couple laid down and it was like magic. They each loved the bed they’d laid down on. They wanted to buy the whole shebang.
I. Was. Thrilled. I told them about the clearance program and what that meant, and they weren’t bothered in the least. I wrote up the sale then dashed into the back, fizzing with excitement to tell my manager what I’d done.
“You sold the death bed?!” He asked in delight.
I pulled up short, my smile freezing in place. “What…?”
“Didn’t you check the notes?”
I hesitated for a long beat then slowly shook my head. You see, dear reader, all beds had a personal history. Every clearance bed had logs written up by the person who took the return, as well as warehouse crew after sanitizing. It helped us know what to expect when selling them. “Wasn’t it just a floor model? You said it was a floor model…”
He slowly shook his head. I checked the notes.
It turned out, it had been sold as a floor model. The first time. But the company had made an exception and taken it back as a return two months later. Why? Because it’s owner had passed away.
I stared at the computer in horror and my manager shrugged. “They signed the clearance form. Technically it was a floor model.”
“We know for a fact that a man died in that bed!”
“What they don’t know can’t haunt them,” he said philosophically.
The man came back a week later for more sheets, utterly delighted to tell me how well they were sleeping. I clamped my teeth down around the secret of the deathbed, choosing to let them love their new bed without the stigma. Only one person would be haunted by that deathbed, and it was me.
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Do you have more Moby Dick: Modern Translation chapters anywhere that certain interested parties (me and everyone with taste) could read?
In reference to this translation of Moby Dick into insufferable modern idiom, in which Ishmael is suddenly shown up in a startling light as a person we’ve actually met and knew well but didn’t really like:
I’m sorry, I haven’t written any more of that! After chapter 1’s mad rush of energy, the book tackles more tricky, boring and unfunny content, including passages that are just uncomfortably problematic in any time; and, like, entire chapters about listening to a church sermon.
A line translation (and that is mostly a very faithful line translation! The only thing I regret not doing was perfectly capturing the fart joke!) apparently has a lot of educational value, and helps to reframe the whole novel. That’s worthy work! But i simply wouldn’t want to do a line translation on the next few chapters. My brain is picking daisies instead, already. I would say: “sorry, I’m abridging this for my own mental health. You’re eligible for a free refund.” In which case the educational value is negligible (you can just read the plot summary online. There’s a really big whale in it.)
Anyone else who wants to take a stab at it (FROM HELL’S HEART) would be welcome and I’ll gladly promote your efforts. It’s just. I am going
🌼-🌼-🌼-🌼-🌼-🌼-🌼
- come here let me measure your head
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Okay so because the search function on this site is busted I had to use Google to find the post and took a screenshot of it but
This is hilarious enough, but OP did not get the correct conversion rate. I don't know how they got what they did, but I found the actual conversion rate. I wasn't meaning to, it was just a happy accident during research for a fic. But I found this.
1 ryō is 10 yen. So you multiply that 35 million by ten, and you get 350 million. Like so.
So then I ran that 350 million through a currency converter from yen to usd and
IT'S NOT 500K AFTER PARTIES
IT IS FUCKING 2.4 MILLION
WHAT ARE THEY GETTING WHAT ARE THEY DOING TO SPEND THAT MUCH FUCKIN MONEY
HIDAN
HIDAN EXPLAIN THIS SHIT
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