A Sorry Tale of Total and Utter Incompetence

If you are of a sensitive disposition and care not for torrents of abuse and rage, possibly at length, please look away now. Try typing Banoffee pie into Wikipedia instead. It's a little bit interesting and may make your mind wander sufficiently to distract you from the nasty bad mouthing.

For those of you who relish a nice bit of bile, I want to tell you a tale of woe and incompetency involving Ikea and their inept friends, as we moved to a new country and tried to use this well known international brand to buy our furniture from. I know, its a crazy notion.

On 1st July, I looked at Ikea's website to assess how cheaply we could furnish our new apartment, which we were due to move into on the 11th. Decisions were made on what to get, some calls were made to the store to see whether they would deliver if we went to Ikea and made our purchases - they wouldn't; the store is no more than 5 miles away. We were informed we would have to place our order over the phone or via the internet. We don't have a phone (the subject of my next rant no doubt) so my husband called from work, to be told that the delivery of a bed, sofa bed, desk and chair would cost $329.92; pretty much half of the cost of the items and to my ears an outrageous sum of money. It seems here that delivery is priced by weight rather than volume.

We dithered, trying to find a cheaper alternative, to no avail. Craigslist was throwing up some very good alternatives, but without a car, transporting bulky furniture up and down hills seemed a little bit of a trial, particularly to 2 jet lagged people. All we needed was functional and relatively disposal furniture. We decided to go with the Swedish furniture giants and placed the order on 7th July. We expected to have to spend a couple of nights on an airbed, as we were moving in 4 days time.

We got an email from Ikea, saying that we would be informed of the date our goods would be delivered on or before 27th July. Several phone calls later, where we were told a variety of different information, we eventually received most of our furniture on 23rd July - a mere 16 days after ordering, which is 12 back breaking nights on an air bed and 12 spine crushing days eating and sitting on the floor. I say most of the furniture, as missing was a vital part of the bed.

In fact, the only thing that they were incredibly quick at, was taking the money from our credit card, the second that their dirty finger-nailed hands got the number, so that the interest could sit in their bank account, and we could wallow in our debt and misery it seemed. Or melodrama perhaps, but I'm still mad, however I choose to express it.

There were additional problems we faced [which I will generously admit were not Ikea's fault] all due to the fact that we don't have a phone and because of where we live. We don't have a door bell. The intercom system is linked to landlines or mobile phones, and as we don't have either, and as yet can't them [it's probably best that I don't get started on that one, it may be too much for my blood pressure], yep, that's right, we have no way of knowing whether we have a visitor or let's say, a furniture delivery. So, we came up with a cunning plan which involved using my husband's work number, meaning he had to stay glued to his desk all day, and I had to stay glued to the computer. The minute he got the call that they were outside, he emailed me - THEY ARE HERE!!!!! I was ready; keys grabbed, shoes slipped on, I ran to the entrance, looking like a rather crazed desperado. The 2 delivery men were lovely and bought everything (all but the missing bed part that is, of course) up and even put it in the right rooms. We don't know who's fault it was that the missing part wasn't now in our apartment along with everything else, but because those men were so nice, I am going for Ikea.

So, then we tried to get the piece of our bed back. Without a phone, this becomes a little farcical. When no one picks up a phone after around 4.30pm (we later found out they are on a different time zone), it becomes even more rage making. When my very patient, but becoming less and less so, and persistent husband eventually got through, he was told it would be investigated. Great, more time without a bed, and then we were told (not strictly true, as the phrase 'we were told' suggests that they had the decency to call us back, when in fact they had to be chased some more) that the bed post we required would be delivered in 3-5 working days.

I waited in on the day we expected it and heard nothing. Around 4pm they were called again. We were told it had been delivered the day before, and given the name of the person who signed for it. How receipt of parcels work where we live (in theory anyway) is that they are delivered to a central location, and you are sent an email asking you to collect. An oversized parcel has to be collected in 3 working days or it is sent back. There are strict sizes to dictate what an oversize parcel is. I imagine each parcel is measured as it is processed and logged. No wait, that would be the actions of someone who was competent.

So, I know how that I have wasted a day waiting indoors for an item of mine, which has already arrived, also meaning that I could have slept in a bed, an actual bed, for an extra night. I take a deep breath and go to the parcel collection point.

Me: Hello, I just wanted to check whether I have a parcel?
[There is no need to say my name, they know me. This is actually fairly impressive as we haven't lived here long and there are literally hundreds of others here. Impressive, but probably not surprising]
Idiot girl (who clearly doesn't care one jot, in fact, she doesn't even look at me): nope, sorry.
She isn't sorry at all, and I know that, and she knows that I know it. It is known.
Me: Ok, I haven't had an email but have it been told that it was delivered yesterday and signed for by someone called xxx.
Round one to me.
Idiot: oh, xxx but, it's not on my list.
She knows I've won, and so appeals to her safety blanket of bureaucracy.
Me: It will be addressed to xxx and it is long and thin.
I had already looked around and seen a long and thin package with my name on, which was in front of the desk.
Idiot: oh, is it this one? Rising briefly from her chair, to manhandle my precious bed part.
Me: yes, that will be it. Thank you.
Idiot: It's not on my list, but could you just sign for it?
Yes, we have established it isn't on your list, but if you are trying to shirk responsibility, it was actually under your nose, and this is where you sit, all day. In fact, it is your job to process the post, so you would think that even if it were not on your list, you could manage this simple task.

I'm trying to be nice, I really am, but I am not a tolerant person. It is a fact which I, and others around me, have had to come to live with (sorry others...) I have found out that my patience is stretched somewhat more what faced with people who are totally unable to think for themselves and lack the ability to question, and those who have deprived me of a bed for a further night, due to their total stupidity. I said the word incompetent under my breath as I was fake smiled at and wished a nice day. Please do not wish me a nice day when you are not even looking at my face. You will see I am not smiling, I am struggling with a bed post whilst trying to sign your proven- to- be- worthless list. My day will not improve by your good wishes, however much you don't mean them. When I say thank you to you I am just saying a word to which I have attached no meaning which is socially expected in this situation. Do not irritate me further by saying, you're welcome. It will only end in tears, and they won't be mine.