Monday nights, I meet with a men's group for some accountability and mutual encouragement. This past Monday, we wound up not meeting, so I decided to go to Ikea and look around, see what's new, blag blah blah.
If you don't know about Ikea, it's about the size of a Super-Wal-Mart, two stories. You're also guided through all their different departments. One cannot just run in and grab something without getting the whole "Ikea experience".
About half way through the top floor (where one is encouraged to begin), my knee started hurting. When I got back downstairs, it was beginning to edge toward the excruciating side of things. Trying to find the exit, I was limping softly along, and I finished just short of a long step-drag. Yes, there are so-called "short-cut" exits, but you still have to meander through all the departments, just about 75% of the length rather than the whole.
I only wish there had been a manager or comment card available that I could have voiced my opinion of their enforced shopping method. I guess I can search their web site, but I truly believe that unless I have some kind of scooter or am being pushed in a wheelchair, I will not darken the doors of Ikea again.
1 comment:
IKEA somehow, someway, has to be a harbinger of the apocalypse.
I'm just not sure how.
I mean, you can buy an entertainment center, a bed, a kitchen full of gadgets... and Swedish meatballs.
Something is definitely up.
Having to follow their little yellow brick road through the store always makes me feel that the last stage of your visit will be walking off of a conveyor belt into a meat grinder, a la Pink Floyd's "The Wall."
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