Toronto Mike

Ikea

Ikea

I just returned from our local Ikea.  My wife had bought a table for James that was too short for him, so I got the job of returning it and picking up another model.  I knew the exact product I was looking for and even that it could be found in aisle #25 of the marketplace.  In and out in two minutes I figured.  I was wrong.

Returning the table was easy enough.  They credited my card and had me on my way in no time.  As I walked towards the entrance, I could even see beyond the cash registers where I would be able to pick up the new table.  It appeared to be about 30 feet away so I considered entering this way, but like a good Canadian I obeyed the sign that pointed towards the appropriate entrance.  I wouldn't want to upset the Swedish.

No word of a lie, it took me twenty minutes of following stupid blue arrows on the floor before I could get back to that damn marketplace and my aisle #25.  They had me trapped in a labyrinth passing baskets, towels and a million other goods I had no interest in.  Every time I turned a corner I figured I'd be back to where I needed to be but this route went on for what seemed like forever.

Next time, I'm going to slip past the people checking out.  I'm exhausted.  And by the way, the table was out of stock.

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