IKEA Craziness - I used to Love Her, But I had to . . .

Oh, IKEA.  I remember when I loved you so, so, so much. I blogged of my love here expressing my great pleasuring in having a (literal) ton of cabinetry delivered for $69.  Oh, how so much has changed.

This was my Saturday night:

I'm not blaming IKEA for this. We tweaked some stuff in our setup so even when they messed up some of our order, I was having to go back there anyway.  In any case, this wasn't even the bad part.  "Magda" helped me out with what we needed. I waited about 20 minutes for the order to be processed and picked up two carts worth.

After navigating past several random people, who I refer to as "human cholesterol" (people who linger in aisles and walkways blocking the passage of others), I made my way outside. Not many other folks around, so I snapped the above photo.

For good measure, I took this one too:

So, there's the back of the car, loaded up with some extra cabinet parts, some new ones, etc.  That load includes two 24" x 39" wall cabinets that we needed for a new configuration (shown as marked).  So, here starts the problem.  We needed, and ordered, three.

This guy:

as we found out on Sunday morning with my GC, who was continuing with installation, was missing.

So, back to IKEA . . . on a Sunday night.  Thankfully, IKEA is open until 8pm on Sunday night, so I could walk the dog and start dinner for Laura and Margot and then head out.  Sunday night at IKEA wouldn't be that bad, right?

Wrong.

IKEA was packed!  On top of that, the mechanism for getting a missing part of an order was NOT straightforward.

First, I went right back to where I picked up the order, figuring it was my best bet.  Jacqueline informed me of two scenarios: (1) if inventory was off, they would pick up the item and give it to me; or (2) if inventory was "correct," then they would do what is called a "customer accommodation."  Inventory was "correct," so the easy scenario wasn't happening.

Jacqueline gave me this:

After getting this, I was instructed to get in the "returns" line, which seemed funny to me as I wasn't "returning" anything but needed the omitted cabinet frame.  I didn't protest.

I picked a number to wait in line -- "B03" -- and looked up at the light to who who they were "now serving."  Much to my chagrin, it read "72." About 25 minute later (nearly an entire episode of some DIY show playing on the ceiling-mounted TV monitors), they called Oh-Three and I popped up to the counter to explain my situation:

IKEA Dude:  Do you have the XXXX credit card?
Me:  Yeah.

[Long pause while he types things into the computer.]

IKEA Dude:  [handing me the receipt below] So, $34.88 will go back on your card.

[He ends the sentence as though our transaction is finished.]

[I pause.]

Me:  Yeah.  OK. Where do I pick up my cabinet?

[He pauses.]

IKEA Dude:  Oh.  I thought you were just returning it.

Me:  No.  I need that cabinet.  It was missing from the order.  That's why I'm here.  Jacqueline told me that I needed to come here.

IKEA Dude.  Oh.   OK.  We'll get that for you.  I'll also have to charge you again for it.

[Credited back and now re-charged.  Didn't seem to make much sense, but oh well.]

Me:  Should I go over there [gesturing over towards where merchandise pick up is]?

IKEA Dude.  No.  Just sit down over there and we'll call you when its ready.

I'm skeptical, but I sit down.  I immediately text my wife about the exchange and inform her that it will be another 15 minutes before I can leave.

After nearly another full episode of another home improvement show, I look at my phone to check the time of my last text -- 25 minutes ago.  No one has "called me" with my cabinet.

I return to the "merchandise pick up" to tell another person what the story is.  She checks with IKEA Dude and comes back.  She then looks back at a herd of IKEA carts and finds mine (which seems like its been there for more than a few minutes).

I thank her and ask whether this is how its "supposed" to happen when they forget to give you an item.  She says it is.

My brain, (as the kids today might say "literally") explodes.

Thus concludes Chapter I of the IKEA craziness.  Chapter II below.

So, I'm making my way out of IKEA with my 24" wall cabinet in tow and en route to my car, a lady shouts behind me:

"You hit my car.   I've called the police.  They are on the way."

Now, this caught me somewhat by surprise.  The only cars out in the lot, now that IKEA has closed, are mine and this lady's (apparently).  I say "somewhat" because this lady backed her small SUV into the space on a pretty severe angle so that her front tires here on the line between spaces.  I snuck my small SUV directly between the lines in the adjacent space, front first.

I recall the relationship because people who park like she does is a pet peeve of mine. And, I distinctly recall being very careful to open my door so as not to hit her car.  Also, I was particularly proud of myself for not parking closer to the line to "teach her a lesson."  Both driver doors were accessible.

Turning back around to face her, I said:  "Lady, I guarantee you that I did not hit your car."  Looking up at the entrance to IKEA, however, I saw the police car entering and I then added "but since I've already been waiting here for 90 minutes in IKEA, I can wait a few more."

I won't bore you with the inane conversation that this lady had with the Arlington Heights cop but suffice it to say that she was insane and he was sane.  After explaining to her that it was pretty much physically impossible for me to have "scratched" her car where it was supposedly scratched, he said I was "free to go."

Its not my last trip to IKEA -- several of the cabinets have to be returned since we just bought replacements for now without returning the originals.  I don't look forward to that. But I certainly won't be returning on a Sunday night.  Maybe Sunday afternoon in the middle of a bears game.