One of my kids broke my wife’s decorative wall mirror. I’ve got to hand it to them. Usually when one of them does something bad, the other two rat them out instantly. All three are staying mum as to who did it. So either one of them is calling in favors, they really don’t know who broke it, or they all broke it together. I’m figuring #3.
We couldn’t just replace it with a regular mirror, because my wife built a decorative wall hanger thingy. (I don’t know, she watches those housy shows and is way more constructive than I am) so we have to have the exact same size mirror.
So my wife dispatched me to Ikea. We have an Ikea directly across the freeway from FBMG, so it was supposed to be easier for me to pick up a new Kolja. I love how everything at Ikea has a weird name, like it isn’t 32″ round mirror, it is a Kolja. You can also purchase Lofkas, Brimpas, Huffalumps, Skordingers, and Fragglerocks. If I was writing an epic fantasy novel sword and sorcery kind of thing, I would just use the Ikea catalog to come up with names. I bet Dungeon Masters everywhere keep a copy of that thing handy. “Random encounter, (rolls dice) Barbarians! And the leader’s name is… (flips pages) Kraghor! Kraghor of… Fricka!”
At lunch I entered Ikea and wandered through the warehouse from Indiana Jones for forty-five minutes looking for mirrors. Women really like Ikea, but I just don’t get it. Now if I was single however, I would totally hang out here, because this is apparently where all of the good looking women in their thirties are. Which makes sense, since Mrs. Correia is in her thirties, and is smoking hot. Yes, I am that lucky. It is good to be king.
So as I’m wandering through this mega store (Yes, Sir, the Koljas are across from the Oderslipins and the Octopussies, turn left when you enter the Gnome Kingdom and follow Fafnir the Wolf to Odin’s Throne. They’re beneath the hooves of Trumpflarn the Magic Unicorn) and I finally pick up the mirror, walk the 2 kilometers (It is a European store, so it is metric) to checkout, only to discover that even though there are 50 cash registers, there are exactly 3 open. And all 3 of them are the self-checkout lines. Sweet! European style efficiency! I usually have to go to Walmart for this kind of service!
This is the LAST place that anybody should have to try to do a self checkout. So I’m standing in line behind 300 attractive women and 4,000 screaming kids who are moving piles of furniture trying to find the barcode on a sofa (sorry, a Flugsnor), and we’re all waiting on a grandma who can’t figure out how to input her Grippen or her Luffapo (which I personally thought was an illegal sex act from Thailand, which shows how out of touch I am with the Ikea world!). It was a painful wait.
If you can afford a six million square foot warehouse, then you can open another damn cash register. I don’t care if all your employees have birdflu, somebody get out here and find the friggin’ barcode on grandma’s Luffapo, now damn it!
So it took me over an hour to buy a $20 mirror. Unnaceptable Ikea! Your Viking forfathers would be so offended that they would pillage many villages for that! I’m so offended that I won’t be shopping at Ikea again. (which doesn’t really say anything, since I’ve only been there once before when it opened because my wife dragged me along, and my son wandered off and became Ikea of Utah’s first Code Adam missing child. We found him beating up another three year old over control of one of those games with the little sliding blocks of wood, so I bought him some meatballs) So no more Ikea for me.
Well, at least until my wife makes me go pick up something else.
This entry made my day.
BWAHAHAHAHA!
Ok, you made me smile first thing in the morning…
And damn it, that hurts!
Apparently, your kids have gotten hold of your copy of Unintended Consequences, and read the part where Henry Bowman learns that you can get away with things if you KEEP YOUR MOUTH SHUT.
You poor bastard. 😉
3 kids is the charm. They often work in unison to defeat the numerically inferior Parent enemy.
That’s when they aren’t playing that wonderful game, 2 against the odd child (not that the kid is particularly odd, just not part of the team for that time period). The players change, but the game continues.
Like you, I work across from an Ikea. I occasionally like to head over there for lunch. I can get to the cafeteria easily. However, why must I make a 5 kilometer forced march to leave the store?
You should post your experience over at WTA as well.
–gasping for breath–
See? You didn’t use up all of your words writing MHI. Another tour de force, Larry. Brilliant.
No IKEA here where I live. That must be the reason I’m single (chorus: Suuuure, Brian; that’s it ).
As bad as it is, it is still better than most other places that sell the same kind of stuff.
Actually, I think we just found some of the names of monsters in MHI 2.
Just go into that little cafeteria where they serve the Swedish Meatballs and ask for Lutefisk. 🙂
In the words of Futurama (Pikea):
“Here’s your affordable Swedish crap.”
For those wishing to write an epic and looking for names… try http://www.fakenamegenerator.com
The producers of Lost use it for all their names. It has an odd history, but if you want to get some data for testing your system without using your real customer/employee data it’s the place to go. I’m guessing the TV folks use it so they can prove that they didn’t use the name of a real person when said person decides to sue them for borrowing their identity.
Yeah, yeah, I’m a close relative to the guy that created and runs the site, but that’s not the point…
I’m going to be needing new bookcases soon, and intend to buy them from Ikea. I find the place pretty easy to navigate, but then I’m a woman :). Have to admit though that you will get all the exercise you need in one day when you go there.
And, hi, new here. Looking forward to buying your book next year. Sounds like fun.
Please tell me that there is no such thing at the US IKEA as “Flugsnor”, and you totally made that up.
If there is such a thing sold in the US, I think someone has a really weird sense of humor, considering what that means in Swedish. 🙂
That…was beautiful.
Actually I just made up the Flugsnor. Now I really want to know what that actually means.
Congratulations-you now rank #1 in google for the misspelling of “Swedish” in the title of this post. 😉 (sorry if I sound like a nit-picker-it wouldn’t bother me if it were in the body instead of the title).
Great, now I sound worse…
I enjoy your blog-found it through lawdog’s blogroll. Wishing you continued good business!