You know what? Fuck IKEA. Seriously. I had to go over there the second fucking time this week to exchange the same wooden board (the front of a drawer) because it has the holes in the wrong places and not only do I get treated like a retard by the return desk people, I also have to put up with a “This is a fucking waste of my time” uttered under the breath by the lady taking my fucking board back. You know what? I think it isn’t.
So another guy comes to the front and she talks to him about my board and he looks at me and asks her “That guy?” and that was a point where I can thank all my German upbringing that my anger place is very well buried underneath neuroses and existential angst and guilt that I didn’t act on my first impulse and yelled and screamed and conquered Poland and behaved just as much like an asshole as those guys. Then a third guy shows up and he shleps three wooden boards up to the front and all of them have the holes in the wrong places and he says “You know what? I’m going to just build it for you.” Fair enough, but fuck you and your condescending tone – I can build my fucking drawer myself if I have the right parts, you asshole. “Sure man, if that’s possible that would be great.”
45 minutes later I ask the lady at the desk whether she would mind to check why this is taking so long. This gets me a face and an attitude and a phone call to the back and three minutes later the guy is there with the drawer.
Fuck you very much. Assholes.
You know, I got what I wanted, I have my fucking drawer now and it works fine but Jesus Christ, I could’ve done without the attitude. It’s called fucking customer service, people skills are somewhat essential for this job.
So now I’m sitting at home, listening to Der Blutharsch. Happy now?
I also planted some flowers today.
Where’s my Spirulina?
And what’s with those bunnies, anyway?