Original day 1 copy before any edits.

As Joe entered Charlotte’s face lit up, and she sprang to her feet. “I made a sale!” she announced, beaming. “A local hobbyist just placed an ad—£120 to promote a fair they’re organising.” “Brilliant, Charlotte, well done,” Joe said, forcing a smile to mask his frustration. We’re about to lose an £18,000 account from a funeral director, and here’s dippy Charlotte celebrating a £120 sale, he thought, nodding politely as he continued walking.

His journey across the office didn’t last long though. “Joe, Katherine wants you in her office”. Shouted Dee. “She didn’t say what it was about.” Joe suppressed a sigh. An unexpected meeting with Katherine was rarely good news. The newspaper business was in rough waters, and with every quarter, the pressure to cut costs grew sharper. He stood, buttoned his jacket, and made his way down the corridor toward Katherine’s office.

Katherine Cane, publisher of the Bath Spa Evening Post, technically oversaw everything: editorial, advertising, printing, dispatch. Yet in Joe’s opinion “oversaw” was a generous term. In his mind, Katherine was, in every sense, a figurehead, more comfortable relaying directives than shaping them. She rarely made a decision herself; rather, she served as the polite intermediary between the head office and the newsroom. Headquarters handed down its commands, and Katherine dutifully passed them along, rarely pausing to question their logic or relevance. It suited her, really—a role where no genuine leadership or opinion was expected. Joe had long since grasped this about Katherine, understanding that beneath her warm smile and accommodating nature, there was little by way of conviction or authority. Katherine’s path to this position hadn’t exactly been one of ambition or strategic manoeuvring. A few years before Joe joined the paper, Katherine landed the publisher’s role after her closest competitor—a tenacious editor who had twenty years experience, a reputation for demanding editorial integrity and was apparently liked by all—suffered a stroke just ten days before the interview. In light of the sudden health crisis, the decision had swung in Katherine’s favour, her placid disposition becoming a convenient choice for a head office looking for smooth sailing over vision.

For Joe, Katherine was the ideal boss for an easy life. He quickly recognised that he could play her like a fiddle. In the beginning, he’d tested her boundaries with small, subtle evasions. When she’d hand him a task—an “urgent” demand from above—he’d respond with a nod, a mild reassurance, knowing she’d rarely follow up. Her approach was predictable, almost mechanical: Katherine would outline the corporate demands, perhaps fret over them momentarily, then move on to the next directive, forgetting the last one almost immediately. Joe’s strategy was simple. He never contradicted her, never pushed back, just offered vague affirmations and let her drift back into her comfort zone.

When he walked into her office nowadays, it was always with the same relaxed attitude, knowing she’d be armed with little more than the latest message from headquarters. He barely listened as she’d relay the mandates. “Tightening the belt again,” she’d say, or “HQ wants to streamline.” It was a well-rehearsed script, and Joe could almost mouth the lines along with her. He knew she wasn’t inclined to question any of it—she was far more comfortable casting herself as the messenger. Joe, on the other hand, thrived on strategic manoeuvring, playing his cards in a way Katherine couldn’t comprehend.

As he approached her office today, he ran through the possible lines she might deliver. He imagined her with her coffee in hand and a neatly pile of newspapers she had no intention of reading on her desk. He felt a pang of pity for her, caught in a role that demanded decisiveness, a trait she lacked entirely. But pity aside, he knew her limitations meant opportunity for him.

As Joe entered Katherines office, as predicted she had a coffee cup in one hand, but the papers were spread out across her desk. Turns out she does read the occasional paper Thought Joe. Her warm smile greeted him as he closed the door behind him

“Katherine,” he greeted her warmly as he stepped in, taking his seat with an easy smile.

“Joe, thanks for coming on such short notice. Have a seat.” Her voice was light, pleasant as always, yet already distant, as if she’d practiced these lines before he’d entered the room. She leaned forward, coffee cup in hand, but there was a slight hesitation as she glanced down at her papers.

“Let me get straight to it, Joe. I’ve been in meetings all morning with HQ, and they’re…well, they’re tightening the belt again.” Her words trailed off as she looked up, her gaze apologetic, as if she expected him to commiserate with her.

Joe almost wanted to laugh. Katherine would present the situation as if her hands were tied, a mere pawn of headquarters, when in reality, she wouldn’t know what to do even if she had the freedom. She had no stake in whether the “belt-tightening” was necessary or wise; she’d long ago stopped wondering whether her directives served the interests of the paper, the staff, or even herself.

“Ah, HQ strikes again,” Joe said smoothly, his expression neutral but sympathetic. “They do seem to have a knack for it.”

She nodded, her face brightening at his show of understanding. Katherine lived for these small gestures of support, the brief acknowledgment that she was, in some way, a part of a team. Joe understood this, knew how to play into her need for camaraderie without offering her anything concrete. If he appeared agreeable, attentive, she wouldn’t scrutinize his responses too closely. And once he’d given her the affirmations she wanted, he was typically free to go, and she would quickly lose track of whatever instructions she’d given him.

“Look, Joe,” she began, voice dropping as if she were about to reveal something deeply personal.

“We’re looking at restructuring. Fielding’s is watching every penny, and it’s time we start talking about headcount in the classified and display teams.” It wasn’t just their newspaper that was being earmarked for restructuring remembered Joe. Fielding Group International owned 211 newspapers across Europe alone and had been re-structuring many of them for the last few years. It was only a matter of time until their attention turned to the Bath Spa Evening Post. Joe kept his expression neutral. He expected he would be called upon to cut a few staff within the next couple of years. This news came a little sooner than he expected, but none the less, no real surprise. He nodded slowly, waiting for her to continue.

“We’ll be asking you and Lauren in Display to consider reducing your teams by 50%,” she said, barely glancing up from her notes as if hoping the words might soften in delivery. “Nothing’s been formalised yet, but they want you to start thinking about it.”

Fifty percent. The words thudded in Joe’s chest like a lead weight. In his mind, he was thinking two or three staff, but this was more like ten. He made a quick calculation. His team alone meant a wage bill cut of around £200,000. That was a lot of heads to roll and money to save—or an impossible volume of sales to find. Joe realised the magnitude of the meeting. This wasn’t a small adjustment on the accounts, it was a complete demolition and rebuild of the whole business.

Katherine pushed on, unaware of the knot forming in Joe’s stomach. “Both your teams need to be leaner, more agile. Fielding’s wants results, but we can’t afford to be running with dead weight. I’m sure you understand.”

He forced a smile, knowing he couldn’t betray even a flicker of doubt or vulnerability in front of her. “Completely, Katherine. But… cutting back by fifty percent is a massive shift. That’s not just trimming the fat; that’s…” He trailed off, catching himself.

She shrugged, stirring her coffee absentmindedly. “I know. But it’s coming from the top, Joe. We’re in a rough spot, and we have to prove to them that we can make hard decisions. Newspaper advertising have been declining for years, and there’s just not the same demand. It’s hard on all of us. But nothing’s been decided. We just want your ideas right now.”

Joe chuckled to himself. Ideas, he thought. We just need your ideas. The irony of making comments about needing ideas when you never had any of your own. He could tell she hated delivering this message as much as he hated hearing it. But beneath her discomfort, he sensed her relief; she’d said her piece and passed the responsibility down the chain. The message delivered again.

He nodded, leaning forward with a diplomatic smile. “Alright, Katherine. I’ll take a hard look and see where we can make some cuts. Maybe find some efficiencies, move people around.”

“Thank you, Joe. I knew I could count on you to handle this with maturity.” She beamed, as if she’d just assigned him a simple task, oblivious to the chaos her words had ignited in his mind.

“I’ll come back to you with some options,” he replied, already knowing he’d have to play this carefully. Any misstep could end his own career. If he were to cut his team in half, every person he chose to let go would hate him and those who remained would resent him, yet his survival depended on making it through this unscathed.

As he walked back to his office, the reality set in like a bitter taste on his tongue. £200,000 in savings, and not a whisper of support from HQ beyond their vague expectations of “efficiency.”

Just as he entered the open office area, Colin intercepted him with a frown. Joe felt his pulse rise, bracing for yet another petty issue that seemed trivial in light of Katherine’s bombshell.

“Joe, can I grab you for a second?”

“What’s up, Colin?” Joe said, keeping his tone patient.

Colin folded his arms, a deep frown settling on his face. “It’s this parking situation, Joe. Someone’s been parking in my space again. It’s not the first time this has happened. I think we need to call a team meeting about it and right away”

Joe suppressed a groan. A moment ago, he’d been grappling with the fact that half of his team might be gone in a few months, and here was Colin, obsessing over a parking spot.

He nodded, trying to keep his composure. “I appreciate this is important to you Colin, but I have other things I need to focus on at the moment.”

Colin scowled, clearly unsatisfied. “It’s the principle of it, Joe. If I can’t even park without someone taking liberties, what’s the point of anyone having designated spaces?”

Joe fought to keep the irritation out of his voice. “I get it. I will deal with it, just not right now.” He turned to continue toward his office, resisting the urge to roll his eyes.

He sank into his chair, the tension from his meeting with Katherine tightening around him. Here he was, expected to make cuts that would lay off half his team, his stability, his entire department—whilst dippy Charlotte was pumped about £120 and Colin wanted a staff meeting about a car parking space. Joe stared at a large pile of paperwork before him and contemplated where to start, but couldn’t take his mind off the meeting he’d just had. His department was about to be gutted, and if he wanted to come out of this with any dignity, he’d need to play the game more ruthlessly than ever. The lines between survival, loyalty, and ambition blurred in his mind, hardening his resolve as he began scribbling notes on the very staff he might soon be forced to let go.

Adapt or be cut, he thought bitterly, steeling himself for what lay ahead. This was the game, after all—the cutthroat world he’d chosen. And if he was going to keep his place, he’d need to play it well.

Joe left the office at around 7.02pm and made the short walk home. He stepped into the front hallway, the walls closing in with the familiar hum of bedtime chaos—a little too loud, a little too close. He barely had a moment to put down his bag before his youngest ran over, arms wide, yogurt still smeared around his mouth. Joe quickly put down his laptop bag and tried to shield the incoming embrace, but it was too late. Within seconds of returning home, Joe’s suit trousers bore the sticky evidence of this warm welcome. Joe didn’t know whether to be happy or annoyed. Who could be upset with their two-year-old wanting a cuddle from dad on their return from work? Yet his trousers now had a white stain around his right knee which would require dry cleaning. He decided to take his welcoming hug as a positive which was just as well, as a few seconds later his seven-year-old daughter India failed to acknowledge his existence as she passed him on the way up the stairs. One out of two wasn’t so bad.

Katie’s voice carried down the hall, soft but firm, corralling their children towards bed, though their defiance echoed back as a chorus of laughs, protests, and the occasional toy clattering to the floor.

“Daddy’s home!” Ralph shouted, darting out of the bathroom in his favourite pyjamas, still with wet hair and a toothbrush dangling from his mouth. Maybe it wasn’t yoghurt on his knee after all. Was toothpaste easier to remove than yoghurt he thought? Ralph could hardly finish his sentence before a naked and still quite wet Tim started chasing him. Ralph still had his toothbrush in his mouth as he ran off with a light-hearted scream. For four-year-old twin boys, they were pretty average kids, especially when it came to delaying tactics around bedtime.

Joe scanned the landing and could see light from every room. Joe walked into the spare bedroom first for Katie and then the twins bedroom and by the time he peered to the bathroom door his seven year old daughter was already in the bath, covered from head to toe in bubbles. “You were meant to be out ten minutes ago” Shouted Katie pushing passed Joe. “Look at the state of the floor.” She continued. “There is water everywhere”.

Katie’s expression softened when she looked over and caught Joe’s eye. “Bad day?” How she instantly knew how Joe’s day had gone with one glance still amazed him.

Joe nodded, letting out a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding. “Katherine pulled me into her office,” he began, “Its worse than I thought. Looks like I might have to… cut half my team.” He felt the words hang in the air, too heavy to be absorbed, as he looked down the hallway to the twins, now engaged in an intense struggle over a stuffed dinosaur. Katie took in his expression, the weariness that no amount of sleep seemed to erase. “Half?” She replied “How many did you think it was going to be?”

“No where near that. Two, maybe three at most. I expected a few cut backs, but this suggests a complete re-structure.”

“Anyone from HR in the meeting? Or an independent note-taker?” she asked, her voice casual but laced with something more.

Joe shook his head, a slight furrow of confusion passing over his face as he caught her meaning. “No, it was just the two of us.”

“And was this followed up with a letter in a sealed envelope addressed to you?”

“No.”

Her mouth quirked in a knowing half-smile. “Good. Then you have nothing to worry about yet do you. It’s probably just talk. If it were formal, they’d have brought HR in by now.”.

Katie picked up a towel off the bathroom floor already soaking wet and gestured for Joe to mop up the remaining water.

Just then, Tim ran in screaming with laugher. “Help, help me. Ralph wants to put me in jail”.

“Tim. Ralph. Calm down. Its nearly bed time. Shouted Joe. “Why don’t you choose a book to read”

Neither of the twins listened and instead headed for Joe and Katies room.

Joe went after them, just in time for them to turn around and burst past Joe in the other direction nearly knocking him off balance. As Joe watched them scramble, he had mixed emotions. Although he felt the ache of absence, a distant recognition of how much he missed his boys whirlwind games, full of energy and not a care in the world, he also knew he needed the boys to shut up and go to bed so he consider what was said in todays meeting with Katherine. He was fully aware the longer his children took to go to bed the later his night was going to be.

“Daddy, what are we doing tomorrow morning?” India called from the bathroom. The question stung. The answer was always the same. “I’m going to work India. Why do you ask?”.

“Just a day or two until the weekend” Katie’s voice broke through the moment, directing the conversation to where the seven year old needed it. “Talking of which, don’t forget we are going out Saturday night Joe”.

“Going where?” He replied picking up an array of children’s discarded clothes scattered across the hallway and stairs.

“We’re going to the cinema with Gerry and Hannah, to see The Da Vinci Code. If there is time, we might grab some food first as well”

Joe blinked. “When did we book that?”

Katie laughed, a sound that broke the heaviness in the air. “Last week. I told you. Tell me you don’t already have plans? We’ve had this pencilled in for ages?”

He smiled, sheepish. “No, no. Just—lost track.” It was an understatement; he’d lost track of more than just dates, of moments that seemed to slip past him without a trace.

She reached for his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Maybe you’ll remember this one. I think you need a night out.”

Joe kissed each of his children goodnight, yet none of them were fully present when he did. The children’s endless energy continued as they raced around upstairs whilst Joe already had his mind on his team’s wage bill. With a nod to Katie, who was still wrangling the kids toward bed, he headed downstairs, arms full of laundry. After loading it into the washing machine, he moved to the kitchen chair, where sat with his laptop screen still folded down and turned off. He then sat back, took a deep breathe and considered his next move.

But Joe already had an inclination to what to do and knew his next move wasn’t going to be the same as most other managers in a similar position.

Joe’s mind didn’t operate like everyone else’s. Far from it. He had a talent for being able to peer into the murky depths of any situation and see how the current would shift as soon as a single stone dropped into the water. A natural strategist, Joe’s gift lay in understanding how one decision rippled outward, affecting all corners of any scenario. He saw every task, every handshake, every cut, and every promotion as part of a grand scheme he could navigate like few others. Sure, Joe could analyse the raw numbers, pour over spreadsheets or double-check data like everyone else would, but only until he got bored and move on to the bigger issue, which in Joe’s mind was understanding the overriding dynamics behind any decision made or action taken.

Joe took satisfaction understanding this in himself as well and saw this as a major win within his personal development journey. Joe had seen in himself something which he’d been able to do all his life and was now able to apply to his job. It was a giant game of chess for Joe, anticipating how a single move could impact not only his immediate department but also the entire Bath Spa Evening Post—and, if he played his cards right, the larger Fielding’s International Group. He could foresee the effect on the company’s culture, morale, and ultimately, its bottom line.

But he knew this was also a double-edged sword. In an industry built on data-driven decisions and accountability, his natural inclination to avoid the details sometimes left him vulnerable. Joe didn’t trust figures as much as he trusted his instincts, and he often missed out on subtle cues others would find in the finer points.

Joe had experienced this first hand before he took on his current role. Manipulation and strategic positioning had certainly played its part, and he knew it. He recalled a few years earlier, when he was a junior salesman. Every sales employee was responsible for uploading their weekly stats to the Evening Posts Customer Relationship Management system, known as CRM for short. Most larger businesses had a CRM system of some sort, essentially all doing the same thing, managing and organising customer interactions, sales numbers, and providing supervisors with an at-a-glance look at every salesperson’s performance. A lot of businesses saw it and still do as the backbone for tracking their team’s achievements and failures. Benefits included real-time access to data, clarity on each sales representative’s pipeline, and served as a reliable source for tracking customer interactions. Yet, there were naturally negatives too. Wasn’t there always. While it streamlined communication and gave insights into performance metrics, it also fostered an environment of constant surveillance. Salespeople, whether they knew it or not, were watched like animals at feeding time in a zoo. This system could track Joe’s successes—or lack thereof—down to the exact moment, allowing his supervisors to follow his performance as if looking over his shoulder.

For Joe, this meant each week he had to tally up his interactions: the green ticks for a sales made, the yellow for conversations that showed potential but didn’t close, and the red for the cold calls that got him nowhere. This CRM system, while giving his supervisors a precise view, gave Joe a limited one: it did not account for strategy, for the complex thinking that could predict future sales trends. His calls were reduced to coloured dots, his performance rated by a machine and one that did not play out well for Joe.

Early in his career at the paper, Joe had always found himself at the bottom of the league table. Week after week, he was ushered into his supervisor’s office, his performance analysed under a critical eye. She would pull the numbers up on a screen and tell him that unless he found a way to improve, he’d be out of a job. For many months, Joe threw himself into the numbers as best he could. He pushed, made extra calls, and gave pep talks to himself before each new attempt at a sale. And yet, the results were always the same. Just scraping by, another reprimand, another threat of termination.

But one day, in a tense meeting, for some unknown reason, Joe’s supervisor printed out a copy of his performance data and handed it to him. The specific details were not logged, but instead a simple graph with green ticks. No sales data whatsoever. For the first time since starting the job, Joe realised his supervisor had no idea of what he was actually doing every day and instead just kept an eye on the stats. As the conversation wore on, he began to realise something critical: the data printouts weren’t connected to actual sales numbers coming into the business. Sure, the green ticks he was entering were being counted, but how closely they related to real revenue seemed far less important than he’d assumed.

That week, a radical thought came into Joe’s mind: why not take a risk? He’d already tried his best to improve his stats by making genuine sales calls, and with the threat of termination looming, what did he have to lose? As the week drew to a close, Joe logged a few more green ticks than normal and and with an odd calmness, submitted his stats and went home for the weekend.

The following Monday morning arrived with the usual invite to his supervisors office, but instead of reprimand, she greeted him with a smile. She congratulated him on a significant improvement, her demeanour shifting as she praised his newfound commitment.

For Joe, this was a revelation. His fabricated figures were received without question. His strategic gamble had paid off.

From then on, Joe knew what he needed to do to keep his supervisor off his back. He made a habit of enhancing his weekly stats, ensuring he always ranked within the top ten percent, but never number one. The last thing Joe needed was to attract attention to himself, perhaps even an audit of his performance or worse still; be asked to be a sales trainer for the whole company. He manipulated his figures every week to ensure he was within the high-achieving group, enough to maintain the appearance of a valuable team member and more importantly; keep his supervisor off his back.

Six months later, this played further into Joe’s hands when the newspaper announced some cutbacks and one that swept through middle management like a storm. Several senior managers retired and quite a few Supervisors were quietly pushed out, Joe’s supervisor included. The vacancy opened up a promotion opportunity for Joe. While British employment law meant a company couldn’t eliminate many manager and supervisor roles and then recruit managers to fill those positions, they were able to give Joe the position of “Advertising Coordinator – Classifieds”, even though he was still managing a team of twenty-three. Although the title felt lengthy and uninspiring, Joe wasn’t one for fancy labels. With the increased responsibility and a healthy pay raise, he was happy to accept it As luck should have it, the restructure also included replacing the old CRM system with a new one integrated across Fieldings Group’s regional publications, rendering the outdated system obsolete.

Within a few months, Joe said goodbye to his supervisor, received more responsibility, more pay, an office to himself and as a bonus knew the data that he’d fraudulently changed had been wiped from history.

Joe sat back in his kitchen chair still with his laptop turned off, looking nowhere in particular.   

He reminded himself that his gift was still his vision, his understanding of the wider context. It was this that he needed remember when planning to resolve his current dilemma.

The meeting with Katherine had set Joe’s mind whizzing in a dozen directions at once. They’d talked about the looming cuts, a reality he knew he would soon have to face directly. But the way Katherine presented it had left him wondering if there was a lot more at play than just the financials. Most managers in her position would stay vague, talking in abstract numbers and generalities to avoid sparking worry or dissent among the staff. But Katherine, in her blunt style, had spoken of “cutting half the workforce,” putting it in personal, human terms. This choice of words made Joe’s stomach turn, not because of the job cuts—he knew those were inevitable—but because he suspected there was more going on than Katherine let on. Were head office already laying the groundwork, slipping the idea into his mind so he’d accept it more easily when the hammer finally came down? Was Katherine merely a messenger for decisions that had already been made, or was she just doing what Joe often thought she did best—wading in blindly, following orders without seeing the bigger picture? If the decision had already been made, why wasn’t todays meeting more formal?

He could never be sure whether Katherine was genuinely always half-witted or if her habit of toeing the line so dutifully was more calculated. Either way, Katherine would have to start making decisions of her own soon enough if she wanted to stay relevant.

Then suddenly, the unsettling thought came to him that he might be at risk of losing his position if the advertising teams merged. Joe knew his skills weren’t on par with someone like Lauren’s when it came to reading data or compiling those sleek reports that made management meetings go so smoothly. Lauren could craft her numbers into polished presentations, something Joe knew senior managers love—clear, digestible metrics they could tout as evidence of sound management. Joe hated those figures, not because he didn’t see their importance but because he knew they only told half the story. The sales results were nuanced, a mix of relationships, gut instinct, and understanding of trends no spreadsheet could capture. Yet, head office rarely saw it that way. In the world of data, Joe was at a disadvantage, and he knew it.

If it came down to him or Lauren, he suspected she would be the safer choice. She didn’t just meet management expectations; she embodied them, with her well-organized stats and presentations. On all counts, Joe would lose. For all his ability to navigate the complexities of business and manage a successful team, none of that would matter if they wanted someone who could whip up a chart and sell it with a smile. It was difficult to think about—he might be shown the door for simply not being a fan of Excel.

But the immediate question weighed heavier than just his rivalry with Lauren. If he was forced to cut his team, he’d have to think strategically about who to let go. Some choices were easy: Jason, Tara, and Car Park Colin would be gone without a second thought. Their sales figures were notoriously always low, and they seemed to treat work as a chore rather than an opportunity. With their uninspired numbers and poor work ethic, the decision would practically make itself. Dippy Charlotte, though bright and eager, wasn’t much of a performer either. Joe often thought of her as slightly ditsy, lost in her own thoughts half the time, but her husband Martin was always at the top of the sales charts. That wouldn’t go down too well within the team, Joe was sure of that.

And then there was Simone. She was no sales whiz, that was for certain. Her bubbly personality and energy didn’t translate into figures on the page, though she was always around to support the team and keep morale high. But could he justify keeping her around for those reasons alone? This wasn’t a popularity contest, and however much Joe liked her as a person, her numbers did nothing to support her position.

So that was five people. Joe thought. But he still needed at least five more. A cold feeling gripped him as he thought about the others, the ones he’d have to sacrifice to keep his department afloat.

Yet, with his head now spiralling round and round, another thought clawed its way to the surface, one he was almost afraid to admit to himself. Maybe this was a good time for him to leave. If they wanted to push him out, would it really be worth fighting to stay? He was a victim to an industry that seemed to be sinking with every passing year. While newspapers weren’t entirely dead yet, the writing was on the wall. The internet had put a dent in print, and though the dot-com bubble had burst years ago, the reality was that more people were going online for their news than ever before. Joe could see where the trend was heading. Perhaps it was time to get out before the ship sank completely.

Yet if he played this right, just like last time, he could end up on a better salary and a bigger office, the contradictory thoughts and outcomes just kept coming.

Joe pushed his chair away from the table. Joe’s key thought was how far would he go? Would he claw his way up, fight tooth and nail to save his role, his team? Or would he take this as the sign he’d been dreading, the one that told him it was time to leave and find something else? In the end, it came down to what he could live with—and what he couldn’t. If he had to cut his team in half, he’d do it. But if this was a trap, if Katherine was indeed part of a scheme to push him out, then he’d have to make his next move with precision.

Joe, still with the laptop closed, turned off his kitchen and hallway lights and went upstairs to bed.