Because I sure you’re all just dieing to hear the rest of my IKEA closet saga, here goes:
Saturday was to be the day. Even though Andrew and I had wasted the entire previous weekend, we wanted the closet saga over and done with. If we picked the closet up Saturday, by Sunday evening I could be enjoying my nice, new closet… so I thought.
So at noon, Andrew called the IKEA warehouse as instructed by our helpful customer service representative. After a bit of fuss and ten minutes on hold, they agreed to hold two closet bodies for us.
We had a few other errands to run so by the time we made it to IKEA we were starved. We hit the cafeteria and decided we would indeed wander through the store, on a busy Saturday, so we could pick of the last of the bits and pieces we needed. Our plan was not to have to come back for a long, long time.
Finally, we made it to the warehouse. Andrew dutifully stood in line at the info desk, like a good little Canadian, only to be told to go to a different part of the warehouse. I waited on a bench, resting my feet, which were stupidly wearing cute (read as impractical) boots. After several minutes, I saw Andrew heading back to the info counter, trailing behind yet another IKEA employee. With a shell-shocked look on his face, he told me they couldn’t find our order.
Uncomfortable boots be damned. I jumped up and marched over to the counter. After some banter back and for between the two employees in Dutch, and lots of pointing to the computer screen and shaking of heads, the younger of the two looked up and said, “There seems to be a problem with your order.”
Half laughing, half freaking out (in a polite Canadian sort of way) I replied “There has been a whole week’s worth of problems with my order.”
He didn’t bat an eyelash at my comment and proceeded to tell me that whoever had taken the order had failed to set it aside and the closets were sold out… again… but, he added helpfully, there would be another shipment arriving on Monday.
I thought Andrew’s head might explode, but he calmly asked for the name of the manager of the customer service department and he very deliberately strode to the service desk.
Back in customer service purgatory, we watched the numbers slowly be served at only two of seven counters. I idly wondered what I had done to anger the gods so much that they would send me here twice in one week. Finally our number was called.
Andrew immediately asked to speak to the manager. After fifteen minutes of calls, he was finally rounded-up and he didn’t look too impressed to see us.
Andrew explained our story – the entire story. Without so much as an apology, the manager proceeded to tell us that there was nothing he could do for us if the item was out of stock.
Andrew, with amazing calm, informed the manager that he realised there was no way we could have the closet today, but as soon as they arrived back in the store, he wanted them delivered to our house free of charge.
Surprisingly, the manager agreed that this would be an acceptable solution. However, instead of apologising for our frustration and wasted weekends, he actually scolded Andrew for not taking down the name of the customer service person he had spoken to that morning. Bad, bad customer for trusting that your order would be attended to…
When the manager left, the original representative ‘Michel’ started to type up our complaint. While he was tapping away at his computer he paused and gave a puzzled look. “My computer is showing 33 of those items in stock,” he said.
So more phone calls were made. He had a feeling our missing items were located upstairs in the warehouse, however they could not be accessed while there were customers in the store, for safety reasons.
He promised to call us on Monday and if the missing closets were found, he vowed to deliver them himself Monday evening.
I remained sceptical (I think I’d earned the right by that point). Wonder of wonders, Andrew received a call on Monday as promised and Monday evening we had our closets… well half of our closets. Because IKEA sells everything separately, we still had no closet doors.
So Andrew made a final trip after work on Tuesday and picked up the doors and a new bureau for himself.
I figured we knock them all together and have clothes hanging in them the next day…
At 11:30pm we called it a night. We had one closet base together… without doors. We were exhausted, and um, slightly cranky (There might have been a bit of name calling).
Wednesday night we were driven. We worked until after midnight. There were some not so nice words uttered, a minor injury or two and a couple of sore backs but WE FINALLY HAVE CLOSETS!
|After two wasted weekend and two nights of work, we have a closet!||Hers…||and his (and a bit more of hers…)|
I spent the morning today organizing and putting everything neatly away. I’ve learned a few valuable lessons:
- My husband has a lot of shirts…
- Colour coding them is anal retentive
- Persistence pays off (eventually)
- If you really, really hate someone – send them to IKEA on a Saturday to pick up a closet.
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