EFFIN’IKEA.

IKEA_or_DEATH_avatar

“No….we can’t help you here. What you’re going to need to do is go up to the kitchen area and get them to pull a part number for you so we can look up your order. You don’t have your receipt, right?”

“No….we kept our receipts but all the writing faded off….”

“Well….you’re going to have to go upstairs…”

So I took off for the upstairs part of the cavernous Ikea store….going against the flow of traffic because it cut off about 1/2 a mile or so from the trip.

When I got upstairs, the salesperson tried to look up our order…but when she couldn’t find that, she was able to track down a part number for me.

I took the part number back down to customer service….and she said she couldn’t help me.

“You don’t have your receipt? We can’t do anything for you without a receipt. Here’s an 800 number you can call…maybe they can look up your order number and email you a copy of your receipt.”

“I don’t have a phone that will do that…”

“You don’t have a phone that will take an email? What kind of a….”

So I went to find my family so I could call from my daughter’s phone.

After spending about 15 minutes on the phone with a different customer service representative, she said she’d send 4 new hinges out for me free of charge ( the soft close hinges on our Akurum cabinets had suddenly turned into slam close hinges and I was worried that we’d break the glass paneled door when it pounded shut).

After I thanked┬áthis helpful representative,and before we said goodby, she told me, “I don’t know why they didn’t just call from customer service for you. They could have done that, you know….”

Gaaaaaaaaaaaaaa…..I felt like my head would explode.

I’d spent most of the afternoon being sent to different areas of the store….only to find out that the problem was fixable without a ten mile Ikea walkabout.

This is the short version. I don’t feel like writing the whole horrible experience out in great detail.

I don’t want to hold on so tightly to a bad memory.

Anyway….OK….first, I don’t know what all that stuff is called….all those Swedish things….and second, they don’t know what all that crap that I can’t remember what it’s called is or where or when I might have found it in the giant Ikea store.

And it’s a pain in the rear to fight these crowds and walk all over that giant store trying to fix something that I found out should have been easily handled by the first person I talked to.

And what’s with all this crappy fading writing on the receipts?

The customer service manager told me that “most people make a copy of their receipts”.

Aggggghhhhhh.

Freaking Ikea.

It’s a torture to go to Ikea.

It makes my head feel like it’s going to explode.

We’ll go back….I’m sure of it….and I’ll repeat this battle and live to shop another day.

Freaking Ikea.

“Ikea” Jonathan Coulton

About Peter Rorvig

I'm a non-practicing artist, a mailman, a husband, a father...not listed in order of importance. I believe that things can always get better....and that things are usually better than we think.

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