5. An hour later you are nearing the check out queue. You came in for some kitchenware but you are now struggling with a flat pack JOKK, a LEKSVIK and some dodgy looking ENETRI. Your confused? You should be. After what seems like an age you finally make it past check out. Hurrah, a sigh of relief and a sinking feeling as you spot the Hot Dog stand. You have to stop at the Hot Dog stand. It’s not an option.
6. Here you are at last. The best Hot Dog outlet in town. Hot Dog Speciale for the discerning Hot Dog lover. The King of Hot Dogs. The sausages are steamed, grilled until the skin is fried and they are then placed in a succulent moist bun. Elbow to elbow and shoving for your own little space around one of those little round tables built for Elves you struggle to enjoy your Hot Dog. Ketchup and mustard is in abundance which is more than can be said for any seating. However, the Hot Dog was your reward and your one little indulgence for the grief that IKEA have put you through over the last two hours.
7. Out in the car park you struggle to squeeze your precious possessions into the back of your car. Finally, after this terrifying ordeal you arrive back home. Thank goodness you sigh. More fool you. The second ordeal now begins as you drag your goods into your home and eagerly begin the assembly. Three hours later, allen key in hand you ponder over why the door won’t fit and why you are left with 8 pieces that don’t seem to go anywhere. The manual is next to useless and there are at least 4 parts missing. Your JOKK is going nowhere. Insane anger follows and you contemplate throwing it out into the back garden. A further 30 minutes of in depth concentration and you finally crack the code and bolt the final piece into place. No thanks to the instruction manual which is a kind of Pingu without penguins. You are emotionally drained and weak from your ordeal. You suddenly hate Sweden.
A trip to IKEA is hell on earth. Why would you go there? Because it is cheap? Just how much is your sanity worth? This evil empire of Baron Ingvar Kamprad’s IKEA is addictive. You are an addict. You sit on your IKEA chair in your IKEA living room with your IKEA lighting and your IKEA soft furnishings and you pride yourself in your ability to find a bargain – but at what cost? Your little piece of Suburbia looks like everyone elses little piece of suburbia and you keep going back. Why? You cant’ afford to go elsewhere? You actually like the stuff they sell?
IKEA has done a fantastic job of manipulating the masses with its cheap products. However, there are some things about IKEA that I find disturbing. Reasons why I would never go back to this hell on earth.
First and foremost IKEA bring you cheap products and tacky goods because most are made in third world countries using child labour or near slave labour wages for the workers that actually produce the goods.
Even more chilling are reports in the news of Ingvar Kamprad’s Nazi past. The Stockholm newspaper Expressen revealed that Kamprad, owner and founder of IKEA, was involved with Nazi groups in his youth.
Ikea adverts make fun at their own company and target what they regard as stuck up designers with witty and amusing scenes to win over the general public. The marketing campaign is pure brilliance. No one can deny this. They have been very successful.
So, has any of this put you off? Probably not. You will want to go back for the Hot Dogs anyway!