Ikeal

we went to Ikea in Bristol (henceforth known as Ikeal, due to the quaint Brissle habit of adding an “l” to the end of words) last night, for the second time this week. And we carefully checked via their sooper dooper whizzy telephonised computerised stock enquiry system wossit just before we left, to make sure that what we wanted was in stock (it was, apparently). So we embarked on a 20 mile round trip across the city, only to find out – well, you knew it was coming, didn’t you?

when we asked a droid when there might be stock, he said that there would be a delivery “at the end of the working week”. So we asked when exactly that was – Saturday, Sunday, he shrugged. All depends; he didn’t say on what. And if we wanted to make a complaint, we’d have to go to Customer “Services”. Incidentally, I peered at his computer screen, and there were supposed to be 15 in stock.

so off to Customer “Services” we trundle, as Pete was in a mood to be bolshy. Have you ever been to Ikeal Customer “Services”? This is where people have to return things they’ve discovered they didn’t actually want to buy after all, and it seem to me that Ikeal make that as bloody difficult as they possibly can, to discourage people. And is there a position just for enquiries? You guessed it.

we waited 35 minutes to be told yes, there should be 15 in stock, but he’d been to check, and there weren’t any. So they would have to “zeroise” (lovely word) the stock, which would be done overnight. But not necessarily that night, oh no. And when it had been “zeroized” (it might be spelt with a “z”, I suppose), it would automatically be reordered. No, he didn’t know how long it would take for new stock to come in. No, he couldn’t arrange to have some put aside for us. He suggested that we phone their sooper dooper whizzy telephonised computerised stock enquiry system wossit every sodding day until stock came in. So clearly, the first droid was a lying cnut, whose main aim was to make us go away.

we sighed, and went home, pausing only to attempt to fit a Billy bookcase into the Discovery (turns out the Xantia has more carrying space, believe it or not). It went in, but Pete had to crouch on the little seat at the back, while I drove with one hand trying to stop the bookcase from decapitating me.

and this morning, I phoned the sooper dooper whizzy telephonised computerised stock enquiry system wossit at Ikea Birmingham, and trusted it when it said it had stock. So I trundled up to Wednesbury, braving the M6 (isn’t that a horrid place to brave?), and lo and behold – stock was there! So now we can sort out the bedroom. Except I’m too bloody knackered to actually do it now.