Don’t get me wrong; I do indeed like some of what is there. For example, as I salivate over a piece of white bread slathered in butter and lingonberry jam, I furiously expel my angst over the Ikea shopping experience of today via this post.
But the fact remains that I cannot get over the pain of the shopping excursion. This sentiment surfaces time and time again when I return there, which is not often due to my tolerance of finnicky crowds, greed, and unnecessary consumerism.
I even have a Costco membership and somehow manage to stomach going there approximately once a month, and at times I find that difficult. Yet, Ikea’s experience is a different animal altogether.
To start with, for those of you unable to steer yourself from end of a store to the next, there is a quasi-intuitive series of arrows directing you precisely which way to travel. Necessary? I think not. In fact, I avoid their suggested path altogether, dodging through openings wherever I see them into the next display to establish the quickest route from point A to point B.
Many people in Ikea frowned at the fact I had a camera with me and was using it. Tough. You all have cameras on your cellphones and you don’t see me giving you the evil eye.
Next, I deliberated over a possible purchase of animal-shaped cookie cutters. Neat. The set had a moose in it which caught my eye. Few things excite me more than the thought of moose-shaped gingerbread cookies, however, given the inclusion of additional, and seemingly random, other animals (snail? huh?) within the box of cookie cutters, I painfully abandoned this notion and set the $6.99 set aside.
Onward and outward, I glanced at a series of beautiful textiles, patterns, and colors. Curtains, rugs, and pillows – only one of which I actually need – I gazed at longingly. Passersby in my wake grabbed feverishly at merchandise nearby. I scampered away (yes, camera in hand) and feared for my life lest I should catch their contagion of stupidity.
Finally, with several boxes of Christmas ornaments in hand (they were out of a good majority of the display models – surprise!) I lept from the slow-moving checkout line after paying and ogled the Swedish food section until it became clear that it was time for me to leave before bleeding my wallet dry.
Missfoster tells me that Ikea in Sweden itself is no different. Is this true? I ask myself, as I ache at the thought of a duplication of my experience. If so, I am certain that I would seek the refuge of a better shop, as I so often do.
I’m sure I’ll be back, Ikea, but give me some time to recover.
While the “shopping experience” might be similar, I think Gekås at Ullared is closer to WalMart in terms of product selection.
We don’t have Gekas up here, at least not what I have heard of…