IKEA is Scandanavian for EVIL
My friend Tim picked up a "build your own chair set" from IKEA today.
"How much did the chair cost, bud?" I said.
"Oh, not too much. Only fifty for the chair and thirty for the footstool."
It took a moment for those numbers to set in.
"How much?" I said.
"Only eighty dollars for the pair!" Tim said with pride.
I was left stupefied. How is eighty dollars a good deal for a chair and footstool? A chair and a footstool that you have to build?
"That sounds expensive, Tim," I said.
"It's not," he reassured me. "Now help me build it!"
I looked at the design and thought to myself, "Boy, this looks really simplistic for eighty bucks." But, being a good friend, I lent Tim my masculine prowess and went to it.
It was great. The building of the chair took about fifteen minutes, and the accompanying footstool took only ten. I looked (and tried out) the finished product, and realized how comfortable and sleek it was.
I had been wrong before. IKEA’s furniture isn’t "simplistic"—it’s "minimalist." And "minimalist" is okay. It means that the thing is straightforward and functional, not flashy and annoying. Plus, I enjoyed building the chair. It was fun. And the finished product was really nice.
It's odd how IKEA indulges the masculine impulses to build and use tools, and yet bends them towards creating something stylish. With products from IKEA, strength really meets taste. And for only eighty bucks? Suddenly the numbers didn't sound so high.
"I could get used to this," I said to Tim.
"The chair?" he replied.
"Well, yeah, but also building my own good-looking stuff."
"Yeah," Tim said. "I love IKEA."
I loved IKEA too. For a moment.
But that moment passed, and with it went my newfound affection for the Swedish furniture people. I was walking out of the room when it hit me.
IKEA was evil.
They're vice peddlers. Think about it: the first hit of heroine is always free. Why? Because the dealer knows that the buyer will come back for more. You're hooked after one taste. IKEA's the same way. "I'll just get one chair," you think. But you end up coming home with a chair, a footstool, a bed frame, and a bookshelf. Not because you need them, but because you feel good when you finish making them.
It's evil. It's insidious. It's… a damn genius marketing strategy. That's what it is.
IKEA is a horrible company.
And yet so good… so very good. Um… I've got to go. I think I'm just going to look at the IKEA website… just to see if my suspicions are correct, of course. Research. You know.
[where's my VISA?]
-brian
"How much did the chair cost, bud?" I said.
"Oh, not too much. Only fifty for the chair and thirty for the footstool."
It took a moment for those numbers to set in.
"How much?" I said.
"Only eighty dollars for the pair!" Tim said with pride.
I was left stupefied. How is eighty dollars a good deal for a chair and footstool? A chair and a footstool that you have to build?
"That sounds expensive, Tim," I said.
"It's not," he reassured me. "Now help me build it!"
I looked at the design and thought to myself, "Boy, this looks really simplistic for eighty bucks." But, being a good friend, I lent Tim my masculine prowess and went to it.
It was great. The building of the chair took about fifteen minutes, and the accompanying footstool took only ten. I looked (and tried out) the finished product, and realized how comfortable and sleek it was.
I had been wrong before. IKEA’s furniture isn’t "simplistic"—it’s "minimalist." And "minimalist" is okay. It means that the thing is straightforward and functional, not flashy and annoying. Plus, I enjoyed building the chair. It was fun. And the finished product was really nice.
It's odd how IKEA indulges the masculine impulses to build and use tools, and yet bends them towards creating something stylish. With products from IKEA, strength really meets taste. And for only eighty bucks? Suddenly the numbers didn't sound so high.
"I could get used to this," I said to Tim.
"The chair?" he replied.
"Well, yeah, but also building my own good-looking stuff."
"Yeah," Tim said. "I love IKEA."
I loved IKEA too. For a moment.
But that moment passed, and with it went my newfound affection for the Swedish furniture people. I was walking out of the room when it hit me.
IKEA was evil.
They're vice peddlers. Think about it: the first hit of heroine is always free. Why? Because the dealer knows that the buyer will come back for more. You're hooked after one taste. IKEA's the same way. "I'll just get one chair," you think. But you end up coming home with a chair, a footstool, a bed frame, and a bookshelf. Not because you need them, but because you feel good when you finish making them.
It's evil. It's insidious. It's… a damn genius marketing strategy. That's what it is.
IKEA is a horrible company.
And yet so good… so very good. Um… I've got to go. I think I'm just going to look at the IKEA website… just to see if my suspicions are correct, of course. Research. You know.
[where's my VISA?]
-brian
posted by brian at
2:21 AM
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