IKEA

There are pros and cons to any retail establishment. Let it be enough said that...we got the furniture we needed, at a decent price, and very stylish, too.

It's what you have to go through to get it.

The IKEA store in the Atlantic Station area of midtown Atlanta is a big, blue monstrosity--the 15 acre complex includes enough parking for every yuppie in the greater Atlanta area, and some change. There were cars in the lot from all over the Southeast. The building itself is 366,000 square feet and includes a couple of restaurants, a play area for kids, and zillions of pieces of furniture and other home decor items.

There are, as far as I know, two levels to the store--the top level is the furniture showroom, and the bottom level is where you can actually buy shit. Items are classified into two categories--stuff you can pick up yourself, and stuff you have to wait several hours for.

My warnings to those considering shopping at IKEA are as follows:

--there's no signage that explains what to do or how to get things...anywhere.
--there are two people working there for about every 17,000 customers.
--they are both rude.

So we pick out some stuff on the showroom floor, we stay within our budget, and I do an ok job of retaining my sanity through the showroom process.

Then we go to try and actually find the stuff we picked out. No major problems, but we chose two items that fall into the "we go get it because its heavy and then we hand it to you and you carry it" category.

There was never any signage explaining how this process works.

On the nice little slip that explained what the red and yellow tags meant, there was no clue given as to who to approach to get this process started, and well, the two employees on the showroom floor were busy talking to other customers...so we asked a young man allegedly working down in the "pick up your own stuff" area for assistance.

This kid needs an absolute kick in his ass. He helped us, begrudgingly, and laughed sarcastically when Dawn told him the info he needed to look stuff up. She didn't know exactly what the number of two night stands were, but knew the name. Every time--as they narrowed the search for the item--and Dawn missed slightly (and it only took Dawn two tries to give him the correct information) he smarted off and smirked sarcastically...

This pissed me off royally and I spoke out--I told him, hackles raised on my neck--that "I could go find attitude somewhere else, I didn't need his" or something.

He ignored me and finally we got what we needed--but I just didn't appreciate that.

IKEA falls into the category of business I despise--the kind popularized in that most famous and for me, a most hated episode of Seinfeld, the "Soup Nazi."

IKEA, like the soup nazi-have what people want, the price is right, and the demand is so high that they don't have to exhibit a pleasant attitude toward the customer.

I think the Southerner in me really comes out in situations like this. Let the "Soup Nazi" be rude to this Georgia boy, and he'll wear that soup. I'll just go home and make some brunswick stew.

I tend to enjoy shopping places where my business is appreciated.

No one's soup...or furniture...is that good.