Tuesday, April 23, 2013

I Really Dislike Ikea Stores


I dislike shopping. I know some people think it's a sport or entertainment. Women seem to love it. They walk around in gaggles carrying parcels (do we parcel anything anymore?) laughing and having a great time. I get invited to go shopping sometimes. I'm not a hang out and go shopping type. Chat over coffee or a drink, yes. There's nothing I'm going to be doing, while clothes shopping, that remotely resembles fun. Groceries are a necessity so I force myself out once a week to acquire comestibles. (I think that was a Monty Python reference...Cheese shop? Not sure, anyway...). I don't mind book stores. They're quiet and usually empty and they contain books. I like books. Clothes are just a means to not go about naked. 

Shopping for clothing sends my stress levels into the stratosphere so I don't do it unless I have no option. Like when I have to attend two day symposiums and their list of instructions stipulate that I not wear my uniform and the dress code is 'office'. Requiring me to attend a symposium was bad enough, but to take away my black force field of protection and invisibility was really low.



Multiply all that angst by a thousand and you might grasp how much I hate shopping at Ikea. First, I'm pretty sure Ikea will not have anything I'm looking for. Not that I don't admire the simple Euro lines, I do. I can tolerate the whole assemble yourself thing even though you can't ever count on all the pieces being there and I can tolerate the long line ups and even the cafe with the strange food.  I can't tolerate the store itself.

First, it's configured to trap you in and force you to wander through every department, manipulated and herded strategically for maximum impulse buying opportunities and I find it insulting to be considered that weak minded. Second, when I want to leave a place, show me the exit. They hide their exits. I'm sure there had to be some but I don't even remember an emergency exit because most surely would have used it, fire or no fire.

It's like a retail Hotel California. I don't want to be somewhere that claims I'm free to leave but goes out of its way to prevent me from doing so. 

I feel ya, my friend

Here's a blogger who postulates that Ikea is the Norwegian god of Frustration, a cousin of the trickster Loki, and well known for myths like “The Tale of the Seventy Misaligned Pre-Drilled Screw Holes" and “The Shoe Maker and the Furniture Labyrinth”. Yep Labyrinth is right. Don't get me out of there. I won't be going in in the first place.

4 comments:

MuserMommy said...

I am absolutely in tears crying laughing. That was hilarious. I have been in two different stores in two different states which makes no difference as they are all the same. They actually provided me with the exact type of changing table/storage cabinet for my son's room I was looking for. I was looking for something that was both drawers and shelving and NOTHING else available was both. Most IKEA furniture is flexible for configuration, at least baby furniture so it was perfect. But you are right. At 7 months pregnant, that was the last place to go. I was exasperated by the whole process and completely exhausted. I haven't been in one since.

Angie said...

The place is completely overwhelming. Too much to look at.

iambriezy said...

This whole post deserves a slow clap. Bravo.

Marie-Michelle La Rue said...

i dont remember liking a post that much!

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