One disadvantage of being off work is that certain unenviable chores fall on me to complete. An example of just one of these is going to IKEA. I've seen and experienced things today that I wouldn't wish on any but the most evil and reprehensible people.
Years ago I declared to my wife that I would never set foot in another IKEA store in my lifetime, and since that declaration I have since entered those giant Swedish warehouses exactly - cough, three times, cough. All right, so we've established that I have no backbone.
What follows is a detailed account of my quest for a total of sixteen items, just seven of which were unique.
1 p.m.
Figuring I might be able to reduce my pain and frustration, I approach the IKEA parking lot while most others worked. Sure it's a Friday afternoon, but I'm still optimistic.
As I pull in, that optimism quickly diminishes and I'm reminded that there are only two levels of customer patronage at IKEA: Crazy Ass Busy, and So Crazy Ass Busy We Need Four Cops Directing Traffic In the Parking Lot Busy. Today it's the former, and yet I don't feel very lucky.
I want to turn back before I even leave the safety of the van, but I'd made a promise that I have to try to keep. I luck out and find a parking spot only thirty feet from the front doors. I enter, enjoying my small victory.
1:03 p.m.
As soon as I'm within the realm of IKEA, with its dozens of cash registers and harsh fluorescent light, I'm reminded of the typical customers found here including the husband and wife (both young and old), the girlfriends (any age, any amount), and the individual woman. And that's about it.
I've never been one to concern myself too much with social appearances, especially with strangers in a store, but for some reason I can't help but feel like a complete tool for even being in this god forsaken place alone. Before coming I had tried to talk a female friend into joining me, and now I wish I had just given up when she had laughed at me for even considering coming here.
I feel so effeminate that I might as well be wearing only a French maid outfit while vacuuming in front of an audience.
As I search the entrance area for a cart I'm relieved to see another male, walking alone, and looking for a cart as well. As we pass each other we share what I think is a mixture of fear and self-loathing, but when he soon joins hands with a young lady I realize that his look was one of pity. Bastard.
1:10 p.m.
I managed to find what might be one of the largest shopping carts I have ever piloted. It's a regular shopping cart with a side addition for holding the giant furniture boxes that IKEA has practically patented. I searched through various shelving units called EXPEDIT, MAGIKER, BILLY and LEKSVIK, with optional add-ons such as the LEKMAN basket. Argh, my head hurts.
1:12 p.m.
I want to go home. This giant cart is a bitch to steer and I've nearly had five collisions with other carts and people already. I fear I'll be saying 'sorry' more times today than at any other point in my life. Why did I come here?
1:14 p.m.
A woman with absolutely enormously proportioned breasts just walked by. She's a ray of light in a quickly evaporating day. I just realized I share a common fate with her bra with one important difference. We are both in over our heads in our current place, but while the bra grips two shapely breasts, I grip this oversized cart from hell. Damn, I just ran it into another beech veneer something or other, chipping more of the cheap wood away from the corner.
1:15 p.m.
I just saw a young couple. The man was making the wood figurines they have displayed here play together. He made little voices for them while his girlfriend smirked and pretended to ignore him. Their happiness makes me wish these bookshelves were Oak so I could go on a topple rampage. He just looked at me and laughed, proud of his little show, obviously she is in charge of their visit. I want to ask her to take me on as well but they're gone before I can speak.
1:23 p.m.
I suddenly experienced a moment of panic imagining getting horribly lost in the cavernous store and getting locked in over night, like in that movie where one of those 80's boy actors gets locked in a department store. Maybe I could sleep on one of the bunk beds and scare the hell out of the kids in the morning.
1:25 p.m.
I have to pee. I think one of these fancy garbage pails will be able to hold it all.
1:28 p.m.
Morale dips as I realize I've been here almost thirty minutes and have yet to collect even a single item that I came here to buy.
1:29 p.m.
But wait! I think I see a lamp that we needed. As I walk by it with the cart, wondering how to get to it through the maze of desks I --
Crash!
I've smashed the cart into another oversized cart left unattended. People turn and stare, including the guy I thought was alone. It was definitely a look of pity before, and now. Bastard.
Before more shoppers can stop and stare I duck into one of the walled off showrooms and sit in a kid's chair to regroup.
1:35 p.m.
Resumed looking for items on my list and realized I had gone past some of the shelving units I was supposed to get. I turn back on the pathway and go against the direction that the blue and white arrows on the ground point. This is not a good idea, as evidenced by the stares and hushed insults from every person I pass. Thirty feet later I'm off the path the others like to think of as a one lane highway and writing down the information for the shelves. They won't beat me. They won't, I hope.
1:42 p.m.
I swear that I just saw a woman going against the blue arrows and not one person around me said a thing or grumbled in disgust. I was all ready to join in and make her feel like the worst person on the planet, but there was nothing to join in for. What the hell is the difference between her and I? Oh wait; she doesn't have an oversized cart…or a soul.
2:00 p.m.
I just realized that the only word I have uttered in 60 minutes is 'sorry'. Nothing else.
2:06 p.m.
Just saw two guys in here together looking at kitchen furniture and can't help but snicker. The only IKEA shopping combo worse than a single male is more than one male shopping together.
2:07 p.m.
Great, they just hugged. They're a couple, thereby plummeting me to the bottom of this hellhole's list of patrons once again.
2:11 p.m.
A lady just stopped in front of my cart not once, not twice, but THREE times in the span of fifteen feet. It was on a thin stretch of hall and I couldn't get around her. On the third one I contemplated just ramming the backs of her legs with my monster cart but thought better of it. She ceased walking altogether on the third stop as people without carts rushed by her. I took my closing window of opportunity and pushed between her and a display chair, brushing against the fabric of her coat. She practically jumped out of her pants "Oh!" she yelped as if I just stuck one of those giant rolls of carpet up her ass. It seems she is surprised that she's not alone in IKEA. I don't say sorry, but I also don't shake her from side to side like I'm emptying a sack of potatoes.
2:16 p.m.
I just made a wrong turn and ended up right where I started on this level, face to face with a guy about to begin his own journey into madness. He has this far off smile as his girlfriend smiles and grips his hand to lead him off into the rows of Swedish furniture. I briefly consider saving him, but I'm having enough trouble on my own.
2:23 p.m.
I just went against the blue and white arrows with a defiant smile. A middle-aged lady actually shielded her husband from me, apparently preferring that my anarchist ideals not influence him.
2:30 p.m.
First floor, finally. Nearly done. I see another grouping of those wooden men and I position two of them together so that one of their arms looks like a giant penis for the other. When I finish I see a kid staring up at me, somewhere between the age of five and nine, I can never tell with kids. He seems to watching me closer than I would like.
2:32 p.m.
I just saw three young girls actually stop, look at my cart and start laughing. Damn it. This is worse than sitting alone in the cafeteria in high school. I yell my wife's name off into the crowd and pretend to walk towards her. I think that'll teach 'em, until I see that the kid has watched the entire thing unfold. He sees my thoughts.
2:34 p.m.
A little girl was holding some disturbed looking Swedish doll and smiling really cute at me so I returned the smile. It almost transcended all of the evil in this place until the mother snapped her away and looked at me like I was going to kidnap or molest her. Being alone in IKEA, I don't have much of a defence so I just rush off, most likely confirming her suspicions.
2:40 p.m.
My upper lip is quivering almost non-stop now. If I can't take IKEA, how could I survive in prison? Before I can find out if I am about to weep I see an old man mumbling something to himself with his back to me. As I approach he turns to face me and says, "Boy, when you want something in here you just can't seem to find it."
I smile and say, "No kidding!" and narrowly resist the urge to reach out and embrace him. I want to tell him that together we can achieve anything, together we can break through the evil closing in on us, but instead I just maintain the smile and walk past. At least my string of saying "sorry" is finally broken.
2:46 p.m.
I hear a loud crash. It's a cart from off in the distance and it is far louder than any of my own crashes from the day. I take some solace in this until I see two of the employees sharing a smile and chuckle over it.
This happens a lot. I realize with sudden clarity that this place is one big practical joke on society. A microcosm of culture; looks over substance. It has a nice appearance, but it's only one step up from having all cardboard furniture in your house, plus they get us to do all of the labour to put it together. I grit my teeth and push on.
2:52 p.m.
In line now with my giant cart and another push cart stacked with six-foot boxes of shelves. Just when I start feeling the end is near I see that pity look bastard in line ahead of me. I want to yell, "We can't all look like Colin Farrell and have a girl to come to IKEA with, you bastard!" but I haven't the energy. Before I'm all the way through the line I spot them sharing a Swedish ice cream cone and laughing together. I hate them.
2:54 p.m.
That close spot pays off as I set to work loading the van, but realize I had left the bench seats in the back of it when I left home. Boxes are pushed in wherever they fit, two of which are directly behind the driver's seat. I picture the collision that ultimately sends them clean through my torso. They can't take a cart running into them, but they'll fatally puncture you, and how!
2:55 p.m.
A guy just chuckled at me, when I turned to shut him up he commented pleasantly on how crazy this place was, nodding at the contents of my van. Crazy indeed, I think, no longer wanting to judo-chop his ass.
2:56 p.m.
Four minutes under two hours, I pull out of the parking lot and make the perilous drive home. At first I feel good about the time spent until I realize I only managed to find about ten of the sixteen items, and that I'll be putting those ten things together for the next three months. I wonder if I'll feel it when the chipboard slices through me like a hot knife through butter.
* * *
It's behind me now, and I can say with all confidence that I will never again enter IKEA.
But then again, they did have a cute shelving unit that I thought was just super!
