Today I was looking for a new futon. My mother dragged me to a store I normally hate, but I was a bit desperate. We walk in, and I immediately note the unpleasant smell. Three associates looked at me angrily, but they should do something about it. I was totally adamant that there would be no futon buying at this establishment. Then, I saw it. The mattress is thicker than I am, and quite comfortable. As I'm laying on the dusty disgusting floor model, I tell my mother "I think this could work." Before finishing that statement, something blocks my fluorescent light high. This woman did not look happy. My mother bravely asked her if she thought the amazing futon would fit in our car. She says she will let us look at the boxes, but not before she turned down a poor old woman's request to use the restroom. I felt bad, and stayed a few steps behind.
After much debate, we decided to give it a shot. We walked over to the furniture specific register where the happy associate could ring us up. After another bathroom request denied, and some yelling at of other customers, I whispered "she is satan" to my mother. Actually, I more so mouthed it, but the lights still dimmed a bit. Satan told us to bring our car to the front of the store, so the futon could be squeezed into the car. I was happy to exit the building.
After pulling the car up front, I see the doors slide open and Satan pushing a cart. Of course. She must have channeled her other souls, as she lifted the entire box in one movement. She angled it into the trunk, and I got to pull the car seats up as far as possible. I helped. Once that was in and the trunk was shut, it was mattress time. She opened the car door, pushed it in the back seat and was done in seconds. I did supervise a bit.
A little bit of a crammed drive home, but we made it. I also purchased a red futon cover, to commemorate the process. I don't plan on returning to the store anytime soon.