My Bed

So. Furniture.
We bought this furniture about 2 and half years ago when we moved back from New York. A bedroom set, to be specific. A delightful sleigh bed and matching dresser in an attractive cherry finish. Dazzling.
I won't tell you where we got it, but suffice it to say it rhymes with "Smart Can". Or "Cart Tan". Or "Tart Man", for that matter.
The summer we bought it, they came up to our apartment and put it together.
"How lovely", we thought.
Then Rob sat on it and it collapsed.

When the repair guy came (yeah, we had to pay the repair guy to come, by the way), Rob started to explain to him what had happened. The guy interrupts him and says, "Oh, I know exactly what bed you have, then. This happens with all of them."
Cool. So they sold us a bed they know can't support any weight. He put these little extra support metal things on the wood slats underneath, so they could hold up. We had to pay for those too. Kind of like if you bought a house whose walls wouldn't stay up. So then you paid someone to come out and prop them up with 2x4s.

Anyways, with the exception of the fact that whatever genius put this bed together used nails that were too long, causing me to snag my clothes on the sharp edges poking out through the end of my sleigh, the bed worked fine.
And then it didn't.
The other night, we're sitting in bed.
Just sitting. Watching some TV.
And the bed collapses.
Just collapses.
Upon further inspection, the metal slats that go into the wood have actually torn the wood. From this point on, I will put the word "wood" in quotations. I'd like to have a woodnalysis done before making any further assumptions as to the bed's predominant material.
Anyways, the "wood" is officially torn, and unfixable. Right now, I'm sitting in my bed typing this. Know what's holding it up? A rubbermaid container. Let's do a cost analysis:
Amount paid for bed and dresser set: $2000
Amount paid for rubbermaid container that's actually supporting the bed: $12

"Don't worry!" I tell Rob. "We have a warranty on this bed." A LIFETIME warranty.
I look it up on my receipt, which I have so wisely saved. There it is, lifetime warranty
Oh my God, I am such a genius. I am so WISE for buying a warranty. Look at all the money I saved myself. Probably I'll get a whole new bed. Some days, Suze Orman has nothing on me.
So I call up Smart Can. It's like I can basically see the lady on the other line filing her nails. I say to her "My bed collapsed. But I have a warranty on it."
She looks up my invoice number.
"Nuh-uh", she says. Blowing on her nails. Gotta get that nail dust off.
Do you want to know what that damn warranty is for?
The finish.
I have a lifetime warranty on the finish of my bed.
The cherry finish.
Could someone tell me WHAT THE F IS GOING TO HAPPEN TO THE FINISH OF A BED THAT NECESSITATES A LIFETIME WARRANTY?
Because my finish is fine, people. Stunning, even. You know what's NOT fine?
MY ONE-HORSE BROKEN SLEIGH, THAT'S WHAT.
There's a damn gap between the end of my bed and my mattress big enough for my DOG TO FALL THROUGH.
Lady's like "No, there's no warranty on the bed itself. You want someone to fix that, you're going to have to pay them to come out there."
I will be DAMNED if I'm going to pay someone to come out again and fix what shouldn't be broken in the first place.
SCAM! SCAMSCAMSCAM!
I told her "Oh no, this thing's a piece of crap. I'm not paying anyone to come out."
She's all "Alright. Bye."

You know what I'm going to do? I'm gonna ruck up the damn finish, that's what I'm going to do. I'm going take a nail file to it. I'm gonna do that twice a year for the rest of damn life. Even when we've replaced the bed, I'm gonna call them over, direct them down to the basement where the bed is sitting empty, and I'm going to sit upstairs and have a glass of wine and laugh to myself. I will make you wish your lifetime was over, warranty!