Virginia Peng

“Only 1 Bed Remaining for Bulldog Beds!”

The day was Dec. 23, 2022. Our protagonist — let’s call him Dom — saw the email and squealed with a sort of nervous delight. He had been itching for a full XL memory foam mattress but had been afraid to pull the trigger. But now, with just one remaining, he knew it was his time. 

This is the — perhaps fictionalized — story of the last of the lucky ones.

Sure, everyone’s seen email blasts shamelessly pushing products. But few matched the vigor and urgency of that first-day-of-winter-recess email. And nobody matched the email’s energy quite like Dom. 

Dom, you see, has always been a fitful sleeper. At home, his SleepNumber™ bed helped him conquer his demons. However, at school, the signature Yale Generic Blue Mattress™ had failed to achieve the same effect in his first three semesters.

Entering his sophomore year, he had thought about splurging for a Bulldog Bed. However, he just couldn’t bring himself to shell out $349 on a mattress, even if it came with a discount using code bulldog20 and free installation and removal. He was a Yale Man™ after all, and he didn’t need some cushy mattress service, the sleeping equivalent of E&R Laundry, if you will.

But after another fall of lying awake at night, fighting the demons in his head and lower back, Dom decided that enough was enough, perfect image of the Yale Man™ be damned.

He eagerly clicked on the link embedded in the email, which sent him to the Bulldog Beds website.

However, he was met with an alarming — horrifying, even — bulletin atop the page: Sold Out!

Dom began to spiral. Was he really fated to suffer sleepless nights ad infinitum? “O, three and four times blessed were those to whom it befell to fall before their fathers’ eyes beneath the walls of Troy!” he lamented, plagiarizing the Aeneid shamelessly and melodramatically.

He called the Bulldog Bed hotline and began to pace anxiously in his room. Finally, after what seemed like hours but was actually only two and a half minutes, a voice picked up: “Bulldog Beds, this is Joanne speaking. What can I help you with today?”

And so Dom, between sobs, explained his conundrum to her, pleading for some way to recoup that final Bulldog Bed that should… have… been… his.

She explained with the utmost regret that she couldn’t help him. But he continued to beg, and Joanne — a bad sleeper herself — pitied the poor soul. “Sweetheart, I can’t get you a bed.” He began to cry some more. “But I can tell you the name of the person who ordered the last bed, and let you talk to him.” 

Dom thanked her profusely as she clacked away at the keys on her computer. “His name is Albert,” she told him, “and you can contact him at —”

“No!” he interrupted. “It can’t be!”

But even as he denied it, Dom knew the sad truth. His best friend Albert had snatched up the last of the Bulldog Beds. But it didn’t make sense. Nobody caught Z’s like Albert did. He was one of the best sleepers in the game. “How could he betray me like this?” Dom asked himself.

The two pals were still on campus, but both were packing up to head back home. Dom knocked on Albert’s door and confronted him.

“How could you do this to me,” Dom yelled.

“Do what?”

“You know what you did! Stop playing dumb.”

“Oh I’m not playing,” Albert replied.

“You bought my bed.”

“How’d you find out?” Albert asked in calm wonderment.

“Oh, so you admit it.”

“Of course I admit it. I was buying it for you as a — rather pricey, admittedly — birthday present. You’re always saying how hard it is on your back to sleep on that godforsaken Yale Generic Blue Mattress. Well, I’ve got your back. It was meant to be a surprise.”

Dom was humiliated. He had been so quick to anger, so slow to consider the possibility of kindness. The two friends hugged it out, and slowly began to chuckle at the misunderstanding. 

Perhaps there was a lesson to be learned from the whole incident. Maybe, just maybe, what defines a Bulldog Bed isn’t the high-quality sleep it promises, but rather the friendships it forges in the fire of furniture frenzies. Dom and Albert’s story should remind us of that.

Editor’s note: The author of this piece uses a Bulldog Bed, and really enjoys it. Also, this account is 100 percent fictionalized. 

Andrew Cramer is a former sports editor, women's basketball beat reporter, and WKND personal columnist at the YDN. He still writes for the WKND and Sports sections. He is a junior in Jonathan Edwards College and is majoring in Ethics, Politics & Economics.