Ok, I might be exaggerating a tiny bit, but apparently I’m not alone. Heh, look at her, she’s nuts, awesome. So I had to break the promise I made to myself not to buy anymore crappy furniture because I had four boxes of shitty books on my living room floor that I can’t bring myself to throw out and had to store them somewhere because a member of the opposite sex was coming over. I liked the design of one their wall bookcases a couple of my dj friends had in their places, the unit was cheap, and I needed something fast, so I set my jaw and journeyed to the giant yellow blue fortress on the bad side of town.
First off, I was annoyed that you get routed through the little Ikea sucker maze where they try to pander off all sorts of useless cheap crap that you don’t need. The path is long and obnoxious and there are few shortcuts to cut back to the showroom if you know what you want and just want to get it and go. Luckily I had found the employee hallway leading to the cash registers and snuck my way into the intimidating warehouse of shit.
After searching for roughly 15 minutes, I located my two ton bookcase separated into two unweildy boxes, muscled them onto my flimsy cart and started my way back toward the rows of tired disgruntled Ikea shoppers eating 99 cent hot dogs while they waited in snaking lines that would make Communist Russia jealous.
I finally reach the checkout stand and the woman tells me that my boxes don’t match. The only way she knows this is from the bar code granted. So I have to lug this Cyssophsian load back across the warehouse because some stockboy is colorblind? Yes, and added bonus, I get to wait in line again.
On the way home a woman on her cellphone tailgates me with her Land Rover, gesticulating wildly as if this is going to make me go faster. There are two lanes idiot, I am in the slow lane, the other lane? It is empty. You can go around.
Sadly this logic is wasted on the lower half of the bell curve.
