They’ve made my bed – but I can’t lie in it

A colourful bedroom with a sea view

I’m embroiled in a three-day email exchange with Margot*, customer service advisor for a well-known mattress company. It’s getting increasingly farcical.

Spending my friday evening refreshing my inbox for an update in the saga wasn’t what I had in mind, although to be fair, the alternatives were Selling Sunset or City on Fire (I have eclectic taste) and I’m also quite enjoying choosing which level of dissatisfaction to convey in each successive response. For better or worse I’m only ‘quite disappointed’ currently – a combination of British politeness and pacing: I fear, and no doubt so does Margot, that there’s a long way to go.

All because I received the wrong sized mattress topper, and the business (for whom Margot is merely an underpaid, over-managed scapegoat), despite swathes of evidence, simply refuses to believe me. They need more proof. I get it, I really do – but when a company purportedly prides itself on its good-length trial period and quick and easy returns service if you simply don’t like the product, it doesn’t seem remotely necessary for me to have made this up. I could have said that it didn’t suit, and then, presumably, there would have been no quibbles. But I can’t tell if it suits, because it hangs a clear foot off the bed (that’s the 5 ft king-size bed, as Margot well knows full well by now), and I had the audacity to suggest they may be able to help.

I’m looking forward to the point in the process where I mention the price reduction since I made the purchase, and my expectation that I’ll be refunded the difference. But one thing at a time: I’ve only just sent photo number seven. Margot – your move. 

*obviously not her real name.