Thursday night we had our first visit to an IKEA store. Becca needed a new desk, so we thought we’d give it a try. We arrived five minutes before closing (who closes at nine these days?). We quickly found the desk she liked and asked for it.

“Here is the print out, sir, just head to the warehouse and pick out these parts,” the employee told me.

“So we pay the money and then we go to the warehouse and pick the parts out ourselves?” I asked.

“Yes sir,” she said.

“So basically we’re paying to be your warehouse workers?” I asked.

“No, it’s so…”

“Nevermind,” I interrupted, “You guys are about to close, we better go.”

So we made our way to the warehouse and found the bins that contained the pieces of our new desk.

“This frame looks too small,” Becca said.

“I know, but it’s what the sheet says we need. We’ll ask at the front.” I answered.

We lugged the pieces to the front and paid the cashier. We took our claim ticket to the other side of the store to get the glass top. Apparently they didn’t want us carrying something that fragile before we paid. Upon arriving, we asked them to confirm that we had the right frame for that desk. They answered that we did so we gathered up the various parts and left.

Arriving home, Becca began to assemble her new desk only to find out, you guessed it, it was the wrong frame. So now on top of the desk (which really didn’t seem that cheap), we get to add another trip to Round Rock to pick up the proper frame.

Can someone please explain to me what the appeal of IKEA is? Why can’t all the pieces come in one box so I don’t have to make two trips? Why do I have to work in the warehouse when I want to buy something? Shouldn’t I at least get minimum wage?



  1. says

    I told you not to go to IKEA. You have to follow the yellow paint road to the warehouse of Oz. That place is worse than Walmart dude with furniture built for Shetland people.

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