Aisle 34

I had it all planned out. Down the last shelf. A perfectly planned solution to the problem of the unsightly crap that is cluttering my house. (Because, as we all know, the best solution for the problem of clutter is to stick it behind a door.)

I knew exactly what I needed and where it would go when I got it home. It had to be narrow, because the room is small. It couldn't be too tall because of the large heavy painting that I don't want to move. It had to have doors, obviously. And it needed to be unfinished wood so I could stain it to match the rest of the furniture.

I had narrowed down my choices to ONE item in the Ikea catalog.

But it wasn't there. I looked again. Checked the other side of the aisle.

Nothing.

So I asked.

They sent me back to the Aisle 34.

I walked slowly down the aisle.  Checked the shelves more thoroughly. Looked behind the items that were near where my piece should have been. Perhaps one had mistakenly been put in the wrong section?

Nope. Still nothing in the size and shape I was searching for.

Finally, I gave up and asked someone else for help.

Computers were checked, inventory researched.

He looked up at me, shook his head and looked quickly back at his computer.

"Out of stock."

I tried another tactic. I asked when he thought they might get it back in stock.

He furrowed his brow in deep concentration and consulted the computer again.

He glanced up at me, (to determine exactly HOW crazy an Ikea shopper I was, perhaps?) and then gave me the bad news with no further eye contact. (Clearly he had determined that I was on the CRAZIER side of the crazy Ikea shopper spectrum.)

It had been discontinued.

They were not getting any more in.  Ever. Again. It was gone. All gone.

Just like my brilliant, yet surprisingly affordable storage solution.

Ikea, paragon of furniture so cheap you can change your room seasonally, has a nasty habit of discontinuing items with no warning.

I've been caught in this place many times. Standing in front of the "Man with the Computer" who delivers the bad news. My brain flashing an anxious neon sign reading "Now What?!" over my head.

In my grief, I began to wander aimlessly around the aisles of Ikea. Searching for something that would work just as well (better even!) than what I had originally decided on. I went to the AS IS section,distracted myself briefly with the dining room chairs, walked back to AS IS again, and then came back to Aisle 34.

I thought of compromising with what they had. I tried to rationalize spending more money on something different.

And in my morose desperation, I came across someone's discarded notes.

A list of dimensions, circled items, prices and sizes. Written with one of those stubby golf pencils Ikea has lying around everywhere.

Someone's furniture dreams for the future written in the margins of an Ivar information sheet.

What secrets do these numbers hold? I can see desire and longing in the swoopy 2's. Stubbornness and hardship in the crosshatched 4's. I lose myself momentarily in someone else's numbers.

An indecipherable code of one moment in a stranger's life. The dreams and longing I read into it are my own. I view this artifact through the filter of my own experience. Not really learning anything except the width of walls and height of ceilings.

But what I really want to know is... Did THEY get what they had come for? Or were they still wandering the aisles like me?

Tonight I went home empty-handed, my own list left accidentally with the boxes that surrounded the empty space where my item might have been had it not been discontinued.

Comments

[Woman with Kids]

That's so very sad... The unfullfilled shopping trip. I'm always finding grocery lists at the store. I think they're like me, they end up getting 50 items that aren't on the list, so why bother?

[drama mama]

I weep for you. Went last week; we've been eyeing the perfect desk for my daughter for some time. Fits nicely into a nook in her new room in our newly renovated home. Waited until we were in the new digs to purchase. Move-in weekend! Yes! We're ready to get it - and, yep, the aimless wandering, wandering. The sadness. Then the wolfing of consolation 50 cent hot dogs at the kiss 'n cry cafe.
Ikea. The inhumanity. Yet I can't stop going.
Good luck with your storage solution.

[Edna]

Don't give up quite so easily: try shopping at Ikea on line: there are stores not too fr away from Elizabeth and they often will be willing to ship from one to the other