Product Reviews: Ikea
Being Swedish, and remember how much Iron ore they sold to Hitler (and probably also Stalin) when they need not have done, IKEA to me represents in its customer-handling policies all the wrong things about retailing and not too many that correspond with a right strategy.
In IKEA Warrington for example, you have to park on an airfield, the walk is miles, you are processed up an escalator with a giant yellow plastic bag, and you have to follow arrows on the floor for some hundreds of miles round stuff called HAVROTH, SCUM, VATFUN, FILZTH, BOOBUMM, GOBWIT, SKULL, BOGG, ILLTUP, DUMPBIN, SHATDIG and so forth, until you are collapsing with exhaustion, and you simply by something like light bulbs in desperation, or a plant that you didn’t really want, in order simply to be let out of the exit-door.
THEN (worse) _you have to have noted it all down_ (at least you can thieve the pencils) and go to each physical location in a warehouse the size of The Mines Of Moria, to physically manhandle your wardrobe, radar station or whatever it could be, onto your trolley. It looks like one of Stonehenge’s larger Sarsen Stones, and weighs about the same number of tons.
Then you have to get it into your car and get it home, and then you have to build it….