I hope Ikea sinks into the sea - But I'll need to get my taps first

All I wanted was a double-basin, Belfast-style sink. Husband thought it was excessive, Mother-in-law said it didn't exist, Sister-in-law thought I should go with something a bit more trendy. But I had my heart set on a Belfast sink, and I just knew there was one out there for me.

Then I found this one.


It was perfect - perfect shape, perfect style, and most importantly I could afford it. Max and I had been trying to get most of our stuff through reclamation yards or from local suppliers, but big porcelain sinks are just too hard to come by and too far out of our price range. So I gritted my teeth and went to Ikea. I know, I know. I have been trying to avoid these places. You wouldn't catch me anywhere near Asda (aka Wal-Mart), I steer clear of Tesco where I can help it, and I'm in the local green grocer so often he is starting to throw in free veg. It was just a little slip. I was punished for it.

Because I am super-cheap (and living on the just above the minimum wage while trying to pay a mortgage that we could barely afford when I made good money), I decided to try to purchase said sink at Ikea's 21st birthday sale. At a store famous for never having sales, 21% off was quite a discount. I should not have been surprised that the whole of Ireland, North and South, would think this was a good deal as well.

Did I mention that I don't do well with crowds?

I don't. I especially do not do well with crowds of people wielding large flat-bed trolleys containing over sized cardboard boxes, dragging 3-7 screaming children through a store larger than several football fields, and trying to throw me out of their way in case I was trying to pick up those 5p throw cushions before they got to them. But gosh-darnit, for £25 off my sink I will suffer such atrocities!

I fought my way through to the kitchen department, meeting ogre #1. He directed me (with exasperation) to location 36 in aisle 10 to collect my sink. No, I could not have the taps as well. They were not in stock. No, I could not order them, he was very busy - there was a sale on you know! I begged ogre #1's forgiveness for asking a question/trying to purchase products and proceeded to the collection point. It took me almost an hour to get there as Ikea is a shrine to consumerism and takes you through the longest possible route to the check-out, ensuring you will pick up at least 6 or 7 completely useless items because they are just such a great deal. At the entrance to aisle 10 I was greeted by ogre #2. Ogre #2 came running at me full speed with her hand out, palm facing me in a stop signal, and lunged forward in an awkward knee bend. "This aisle is closed," she decreed, and stood with her hand still motioning for me to halt. I giggled a little at the sight of her posturing, a farewell gesture from my rapidly deteriorating sense of humour.

Before long ogre #2 was joined by #s 3,4,5 and 6. They stood at all possible entrances to the aisle, quickly chastising dazed and confused shoppers as they tried to get their items and leave the seventh circle of Hell sometime before dinner. I quietly asked ogre #4 if they knew how much longer it would be. No response. Perhaps ogre #5 would know? No response. I spoke to the shopper next to me, wondering if I had lost my voice or had fallen asleep and started dreaming about trying to speak but having no sound come out. Shopper could hear me just fine, and we killed a few moments discussing why a store which had achieved world-domination the way Ikea was apparently unable to restock shelves at more appropriate times of the day. Finally, after almost 20 minutes (for those of you who have lost track, I have been at Ikea for about 2 hours at this point) I was permitted to collect my sink. I checked the box against my sheet - same item name, same location number. With confidence I loaded the box, which was more than half my body weight, onto the trolley and marched triumphantly towards the checkout.

Thirty minutes passed and I kept myself entertained by playing with the bizarre garden accessories lined up to create makeshift queues. With the finish line in sight, I decided to be extra efficient and ensure the bar-code was facing the cashier. Turning the box around I saw the picture - it was the wrong sink. Right name, right location, wrong sink. I turned and saw the lines behind me. They were at least twice as long as when I had started. I decided that perhaps some nice staff member would be able to help me with my crisis...

Enter ogre #7.
me: "I'm sorry, but the item I requested was in the wrong place and I really can't lift the item I want on my own. Could you possib..."
ogre #7: "You're just going to have to get a member staff to help you, we're very busy."
Me= confused, as thought the person wearing an Ikea shirt and name badge was, in fact, a member of staff.

Enter ogre #8.
me: "Excuse me, I just need help lifting the sin..."
ogre #8: "I can't help you. We're very busy today."

And then #9.
me: "can you hel..."
#9: "...(walking away shaking head)"

The ogres were all very busy - and yet I could see them everywhere, in little swarms of yellow, talking to each other in impenetrable circles. I imagined them all laughing with each other about that dumb Yank who tried to lift up a 100lb sink and almost broke her back and toe. I tried to explain my plight to ogre # 10 (behind a desk), and she informed me that if I had "just smiled a bit more maybe one of the customers would have helped me." Eventually I managed to find a non-ogre in yellow who smiled a lot. He was happy to lift the sink on to the trolley, but not before dropping it twice.

When I got home 3.5 hours later, exhausted and emotionally drained, I discovered that not only was the sink broken (almost in half!) but they had neglected to give me the 21% discount. A nice young woman on the phone apologised profusely and told me that if I returned it on Monday they could exchange the sink and apply the discount.

I got up early today and loaded up the 47kg sink into my tiny little car. I drove it all the way out to the opposite side of town for the second time in two days. I lifted it out of the car and pushed it the 0.5 miles from the car park to the returns desk. They fought hard not to exchange the sink, implying I had dropped it after leaving the store. It took only one look at my reddening face for the sales girl to change her mind about that. They also refused to give me the 21% discount, saying it was my own fault for not noticing. I asked to speak to a supervisor. Chief ogre took 15 minutes to come over to me and then repeated exactly what the sales person had said. I told her I had not braved the melee that was their 21% off sale for any other reason than getting 21% off and I was not leaving without my £25. Chief ogre decided after a further 15 minutes that she did not fancy clearing up the mess that my exploding head would create and put the £25 back on to my debit card.

And now I have to go back for the bloody taps! This had better be the finest sink in Belfast. I am going to have to watch double doses of the news tonight to give myself some perspective.