Ever since I was a child, I had an unshakable fear of something lurking under my bed at night. It didn’t matter how many times I checked or how often my parents reassured me—just the mere thought of a mysterious presence hiding in the darkness beneath my mattress was enough to send chills down my spine. This fear followed me well into adulthood until I finally decided that it was time to seek professional help.

Determined to overcome my irrational dread, I made an appointment with a psychiatrist. As I sat across from him in his warmly lit office, I poured my heart out, detailing how I would lie awake at night, paralyzed with fear, unable to sleep peacefully. He listened attentively, nodding along, and then, with a reassuring smile, he said, “Well, you’ve come to the right place. Just put yourself in my hands for one year. Come see me three times a week, and together, we’ll work through these fears. By the time we’re done, you’ll sleep soundly without any worry.”

That sounded promising, and for the first time in a long while, I felt hopeful. However, there was still one important detail I needed to clarify. “How much do you charge per session?” I asked, bracing myself for the response.

“$80 per visit,” he replied without hesitation.

I did some quick mental calculations. Three visits a week at $80 each? That added up to a staggering amount over the course of a year! I hesitated, weighing my options, before finally saying, “I’ll have to think about it. I’ll sleep on it and get back to you if I decide to go through with it.”

He nodded knowingly, as if he had heard that line a hundred times before, and we parted ways.

Six months later, I was walking down the street when I unexpectedly ran into the psychiatrist. He immediately recognized me and stopped to ask, “Hey, I never saw you back at my office. Did you end up finding another way to deal with your fear?”

I grinned and said, “Yep, and it only cost me ten bucks!”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “Ten bucks? How in the world did you manage that?”

“Well,” I said, barely able to contain my amusement, “a bartender gave me the best advice I’ve ever received.”

“A bartender?” he repeated, clearly skeptical. “And what exactly did this so-called expert tell you?”

Still grinning, I replied, “He told me to cut the legs off my bed. Now there’s no space for anything to hide under there!”

The psychiatrist just stood there, momentarily stunned. I could tell he didn’t find it nearly as funny as I did, but I couldn’t help but laugh at how simple and effective the solution had been. Not only did I conquer my childhood fear, but I also saved a fortune! In fact, I saved so much money that I went out and bought myself a brand-new SUV. Now, that’s what I call a success story.

This story serves as a perfect example of how sometimes, the best solutions to our problems aren’t necessarily the most expensive or complicated. We tend to overthink our fears, searching for deep psychological explanations when, in reality, the fix can be as simple as removing the source of our anxiety.

It also highlights the power of humor in facing life’s challenges. Fear, more often than not, is just our imagination running wild, creating scenarios that are far worse than reality. While therapy is undoubtedly valuable and necessary for many issues, a fresh perspective—perhaps even a humorous one—can be just as powerful.

And let’s not forget the practicality of the bartender’s advice. How often do we let small worries fester when a straightforward solution is right in front of us? Instead of spending hundreds of dollars dissecting every detail of the fear, I simply removed the one thing that fueled it. No space under the bed, no monster. Problem solved.

Of course, not every fear in life can be solved so easily. Some anxieties run deeper and require real work to overcome. But this tale serves as a lighthearted reminder that sometimes, we just need to take a step back and ask ourselves if there’s an easier way to deal with what’s troubling us.

So, the next time you find yourself lying awake at night, haunted by something that might not even be real, take a moment to think—what would the bartender do? Maybe, just maybe, the answer is far simpler than you think.