Thursday, June 3, 2010

Dear Ikea,

Dear Ikea,

I’ve loved you for so long, with your laminate walkabout sensibility and the smiling ballooney figures in your assembly drawings. I’ve swooned over the predictability of your aesthetic and your pops of radiant color and your smart use of every available inch of a space. I’ve adored your showroom shortcuts and your stacks of paper yardsticks and tiny pencils and the calm order of your numbered aisles and bins. I’ve cherished your $1 frozen yogurts and your smooth rolling carts and Oh, Ikea, I’ve loved your As-Is section most of all.

You might not know this, but assembly prowess is in my genetic make up. My dad passed down his love of a good instruction book, although we do differ in that he is of the read it through and inventory your materials first school of assembly, while I am of the jump in and find what you need when you need it line of thinking. I can’t even begin to tell you how much enjoyment we both have found in assembling your goods. Each has been a juicy, delectable endeavor and I’ve thrilled at every turn of the allen wrench.

It should come as no surprise that when I began a recent household improvement project, I thought I’d need look no farther than the bright yellow sun of your showroom to find the perfect piece: a compact couch for the playroom that would convert into a bed for our occasional guests. And I found it, I did!

How perfect is this?

All that was left to do was write down the aisle and bin numbers, go downstairs and find a couple of guys to help me lift the 3 giant boxes onto a dolly, roll over to the self-serve checkout and scan it, pay for it, roll it out to the loading area, go get my car and find a place to back in to the loading area, clear out all the shit from my car so I could put the back seat down, find a couple of guys to hoist the boxes into the back of my car, drive home, get my guy to help me hoist the boxes out of the car and into the house, and then build it.

Just for kicks and giggles, I asked a guy to see the assembly instructions. All those wooden slats were giving me a funny feeling. Here are my some of my favorite steps from the 17 page instruction booklet:

When my trusty assistant checked the tag for the location of the items, Ikea, do you know what I saw?


Surely you are shitting me, Ikea.

This can't be true.

I thought we had something going here.

You'd better get your act together, Macy's is looking very sweet.

Yours Truly,

Fuck you,



Me, You, or Ellie said...

Tell us how you really feel, Jacquie.

Hey, wooden slats are expensive!

I have huge amounts of sentimental value for the couch you're presumably getting rid of. Can you have it bronzed, please?


Anonymous said...

I had a one-night stand with IKEA once (I believe it was a night stand one-night stand actually). He was a real asshole and I never called him again. Ever.

Me, You, or Ellie said...

YUP - you crack me up!

Damn, I really thought you had found the answer to our gameroom/guestroom dilema. We need a giant pullout chair just like that!.

But I'm totally with you, $499?! At Ikea? Um, no. Absolutely not.

I think you're right Jacquie, you're going to have to cheat on him.


Me, You, or Ellie said...

Mr. JC Penny, is looking attractive:


julie said...

is that alot?

lives 3 hours from 3 IKEAs in PA said...

I think Mr IKEA has been hanging with the Pottery Barn kids again!

You're doing a good job by starting the shame campaign...sign me up!

Nothing in IKEA should be more than $200, unless it's a kitchen remodel :)

Me, You, or Ellie said...

Beth, Mistah Schleckah and Mark Dowd call JC Penney "Jean-Claude Penné."


Me, You, or Ellie said...

Oooh, how exciting, Jacquie may soon have a "euro" boyfriend!