IKEA I HATE YOU

I am filled with big-business rage today. In fact, coupled with my hormones and my ire for businesses that make it their aim in life to screw their customers, I figure I am steps away from Michael Douglas territory in "Falling Down." Don’t panic, I don’t own any guns, and at this point, I can barely walk from A to B without my lungs collapsing. But boy oh boy do you not want to cross an overheated pregnant woman who has a sick obsession with principles and justice. (Sorry but this blog today is purely selfish so I can rant to my heart's content).

Okay, I shall backtrack, as many of you, I have a feeling, will have similar stories, and isn’t it fun to vent????! So, I ordered something from Ikea. Yes, the bastion of cheap, quick, kind of vile furniture that is often so cheap you just can’t pass it up. In their defense (a moment of kindness, appreciate it Ikea Morons), I’ve been a customer of theirs for some time and have never had any major problems. But of course, as murphy’s law dictates (or is it sod's??) when one is a fragile state and feels like killing people anyway, especially men who can’t bear children and feel my pain, everything is due to go wrong. 

So back on point, I order a chest of drawers. Sounds simple enough. I’m given a date of delivery, a lovely window of ‘this is when you have to stay in your house like a rat in a cage,’ and voila, everything seems set to go. So set that I get rid of my old chest of drawers and put all our stuff in little piles on our bed awaiting it’s new home. Yes, I’m totally type A and plan ahead, wayyyy ahead.

So, the day arrives – yesterday in fact, hence why my anger is so potent – and Ikea calls me and says the drivers are running late. Okay, fine, my partner and I have arranged the day around this window (he puts things together and I sit and watch and fetch glasses of water. It's a system that works), but I can be flexible. Three hours (!!) past the appointed window time - my partner long gone -  they finally show up. The drivers of course called several times to say that they were lost, cause apparently delivery drivers do not have sat nav. Not a good start.

So I waddle down to the street to see what’s what, as from my window I can tell they all look slightly befuddled. It turns out that what I ordered is not on the truck. Genius business model I have to say: let’s charge people for delivery, make them wait for hours, and then not bring them their product. I of course stare at these delivery men with a look of the devil in my eyes and say as politely as I can, ‘Um, so where is it, and when is it going to be delivered then?’ I think I may have uttered a few McEnroe-esque ‘YOU CAN’T BE SERIOUS-es at them as I waved my belly around in frustrated disbelief. In true English fashion, they looked at me and said, "Sorry luv, nothing to do with us, we’re just filling in for someone who is sick." But of course. And I’m just filling in for someone who gives a SH*T!

So off they go, and in expected fashion, I wait by the phone expecting Ikea to call back with apologies and solutions to how the situation will be rectified. What a foolish girl I am. After three phone calls to them to various departments, I finally get a woman on the phone that has about as much compassion and sympathy for the customer as a serial killer. After I explain the entire situation, and suggest that a refund on the delivery charge is the least they can do, she begins yelling at me. AT ME. And to make matters worse, she explains that the item may take another week to deliver, cause of bla bla bla excuse, but don’t worry, I won’t get charged twice for the delivery. 

UM, SERIOUSLY Ikea witch, did you actually just say that? This is where I lose my cool of course and start firing off  comments like ‘you should be ashamed of yourselves!; and how you treat your customers is criminal!’ It of course gets me nowhere as she knows that I want and need this piece of rubbish drawers, but it does make me feel a bit better that someone is victim to my wrath. I of course wake up to an email this morning telling me that after all this is sorted – an answer of when, how and if is still not given of course, I can “RIGHT” in to the complaints department. Fabulous. Stupid and useless. A great combination.

So now I sit staring at our clothing that is now populating an entire portion of our room like a refugee settlement. Even my knickers look depressed at having been evacuated from their home. And Ikea, damn you for depressing my knickers!!.....So big business with customer service departments that do NOT serve your customers, shame on you for your ineptitude and selfishness. Just another example of how society has taken a left turn into greed first, principles second. In fact, if I could carry a pitchfork and a fiery torch without having to stop to catch my breath, I would picket your offices with a news crew in tow. Not that this would do anything, but it would be a pretty funny sight.