The Root of All Evil

The pedestal of consumerism was for too many years simply known as WalMart. Ahh, but over the last ten years a giant Swede by the name of Ikea has slowly made their way across America from Elizabeth, New Jersey, to Burbank, California, and now the God known only by the little yellow smiley face suddenly finds himself being pushed off his perch. The owner of Ikea now makes more money than the family of the late Sam Walton who founded the famous, or infamous, WalMart superstore chain. Cowboys and cowgirls, there’s a new Sheriff in town, and he wears an obnoxious yellow polo shirt.

To me Ikea represents all the greatest developments in design and industrial technology all rolled up into a monumental showcase of plastic and pressed-wood gadgets that look original and cool, but rarely last longer than one to three years. This is the genius behind Ikea. You can furnish your entire apartment for less than two grand with lots of nifty looking stuff. Around the one year mark, one by one the nifty stuff starts to break or fall apart. Now you can get angry and go to Sears or Levitz and furnish your apartment with solid objects for six grand, or go right back to Ikea and slowly spend another two grand. And the beat goes on.

Yet Americans have fallen in love with this Swedish darling. I live five blocks from an Ikea, and on Saturdays and Sundays they have to hire private security to run the parking lot and loading docks. Cars are lined up around the block waiting to pick up their 200 pound chest of drawers that cost them $299. Plus they get the added bonus of loading everything themselves. If they get hungry, not to worry, Ikea has a restaurant inside that serves interesting Swedish Meatballs and horrible American foods for cheaper prices than the Corner Bakery across the Street. Synergy!

Ikea’s dark secret, and this is where I think the entire country of Sweden sits back every night and laughs at the rest of the world, is that nearly everything you buy at this home furnishings mecca must be assembled. Not just that, but it can only be assembled using a single tool about the size of your thumb. Forget about cheating and trying to use a screwdriver or wrench, it won’t work. Ikea has carefully designed each bolt and screw so that only their tiny odd-shaped tool will work. Thus the simple assembly of that $299 Chest of Drawers will take approximately seven hours. Add an additional hour to the estimate for each member of the family that tries to help you.

Ikea does sell other amazing things like green plates and giant plastic spoons that seem to fascinate any woman over the age of sixty. Although I have never seen the sign, I think all college age shoppers are required to buy the giant bag of 100 Tea Candles. Middle aged men flock to the return center where Ikea furniture that was assembled incorrectly is sold for 25% off, sometimes arguing and fighting over who gets the desk that leans 19 degrees to the right. My favorite section is the one that sells every size frame in the world except ones that fit American size photos and posters. I never realize photography printing was so different in Sweden.

Ikea is also not for the faint of heart. I’ll admit it now. I’m a former Marine, and I will not go into that place on the weekends. You could draw and quarter a Monk at 10am on Saturday morning and no one would notice the body until Monday afternoon. How could you? Each Ikea building holds more people than the city of Seattle.

My time with Ikea is done. I do not condemn Ikea, and although I don’t recommend it as a reliable source of anything except Tea Candles, I do highly recommend it as an experience. In fact, I think Ikea should sell tickets to get inside. Not expensive, but maybe $2 a ticket. I promise you, if you have never been to an Ikea, it would be worth the $2 a ticket cost just for the experience. After that, you’re on your own.

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