Opposite IKEA

Remember this line from Seinfeld? George says:

My life is the opposite of everything I want it to be. Every instinct I have, in every part of life, be it something to wear, something to eat ... It's all been wrong." And after this realization, George decides to do everything the opposite of what his instinct tells him to do. And for one episode, he wins.

Who could have predicted that George would provide me with a way to beat IKEA? That's right, I said "beat IKEA." You thought it couldn't be done and so did I. IKEA beats us all. It traps us like rats in a maze and the only escape is to somehow get past the checkers and the cinnamon buns - after a full-blown sprint past every piece of cheap furniture known to man. And yes, I was there to buy cheap furniture. No one makes it out alive, or at least with their self-esteem (and credit cards) intact.

Yesterday he and I left on a virtuous mission: get the big girl a desk that fits in her new, big girl room. Not only will this be good for her, it will be good for the little one, who also has homework. It will also be good for me. As much as I have enjoyed this "let's all work together at the same desk" time, I would like my office back.

He and I had the best of intentions, but better than that, we had a plan. We knew which desk we wanted and checked online to make sure that our neighborhood store had at least one for us to buy. Luck was with us, they had "6."

Luck. Ha.

We parked in a designated spot far enough away from the front door. We went up the escalators and walked the long three miles to the desks. We identified the aisle, then the bin. We were good to go. We walked the remaining 10 miles to the self-service area and went to the designated bins.

Empty.

We go to the human in charge of self service. He explains that the inventory system is wrong. In fact, this desk system is completely discontinued. Maybe, just maybe, if we are really really lucky, they will get more. But not today and not tomorrow. In fact he has no idea when. We should come back next week.

Disappointed but undeterred we walk the 13 miles back to the desk showroom. The human there confirms the desk we want is discontinued. There will be Something New in the Spring. Ah. So, it's March now, when does IKEA think Spring starts? Now? Two weeks from now? Perhaps we should consult the Farmer's Almanac to determine the thaws in Holland? He doesn't know. Maybe next week, maybe never. He shrugs in that "I know I should be helping you but I don't actually know anything" kind of way. Okay, how 'bout you sell us the floor model? He checks with The Authorities. "No. We will be getting more of the discontinued desks, even if I can't tell you when. The only desk we have left is red." I'm positive she doesn't want a red desk. 

We walk the remaining 45 miles through the showroom and self-service and leave without buying a single thing. Yes, that was us. I'm fairly certain they took our picture on the way out. You will be seeing it soon at your local Post Office. But not on Saturdays.

Fail.

That night my girl says "I LOVED the red desk! YOU were the one who thought I shouldn't have a red one."

I don't actually remember saying that but it's not the first time. Somehow I convince him that the next day we will return to IKEA. I still don't know how I did that.

And this is where George comes in: We approach IKEA from a totally different route. Quite literally.

We park in 20 minute parking - next to a door.

The door is an EXIT door. We walk in.

We walk the wrong way past the checkers.

We approach the - now frowning - human in "self service" who takes the idea of self service too seriously (he believes we are all idiots and based on his experience he's probably right). We force him to disclose the location of item #20134353. We walk directly to the aisle and find the bin. We search through boxes 1 and 2 to make sure we are taking the ones that haven't been destroyed by other scavangers. Two boxes, unscathed, are placed on the dolly.

Back to the checkers, we bypass "self-checkout.' This line is full of Prius-driving do-gooders and twice as long as the lines staffed by actual people. That's right, I said that. Oh I see, now that they are driving out of control speeding death traps we're not supposed to make fun of Prius drivers anymore. I always get the memo too late. 

Five minutes in line and we are the proud owners of more cheap furniture. We actually did it in less than 20 minutes, which means that our parking choice was legitimate in fact, if not intention.

 Free at least, free at least. We take the desk home to our girl.  

Comments

[Little Odd Me]

oh.my. god. You are my hero.

[Steve Betz]

[this is good] I've never heard a better description of the IKEA experience! The last time we went there, we saw people waiting an hour to buy a $19 easel. That was normally $30, but only on sale that morning. No thanks, my time is worth more $11/h. We walked all through the store only to realize we didn't really want any of it. We left with only a bag of votive candles.

[Kzinti]

Wow. At least no one got cut or punched in the neck. LOL.
IKEA, purveyors of cheap crap. Pffft!!!

[Patti]

My trick for Ikea is to show up half an hour before closing on a school night. It works surprisingly well.

[AshbyChick]

[this is good] I love this!!! This post ranks right up there with the Evil Marshmallows from Williams Sonoma post.
I am one of the few people on the planet who has never been to an IKEA but I've heard enough stories from people that your post was completely hilarious! I still want to visit although I will probably always look at the employees as the "human in self-service"! Ha!

[Spivita]

Well now, if you'd only been able to grab some Swedish meatballs with Loganberry Sauce on your way out, you'd have been listed in Guiness. Seriously. Just the fact that you convinced him to go back is HUGE.

[Kapolnek Family]

Would you just write a book already?