Nateomedia: Illustration, Art Direction, Motion Graphics

Slowly I (Re)turned…

Sunday, June 18, 2006  |  Permalink  |  Comments [5]

Ikea has proven to be both a bane and blessing of my twenties. I’ve never managed to accessorize my apartment to look nearly as hip as anything you’d see on one their showroom floors, but I can currently count eight major pieces of furniture in my apartment that were built by those frugal and crafty Swedes.

Not that I’m proud of it. In fact, if I had the choice afforded to those with weightier pocketbooks, I’d never step foot inside an Ikea again.

Never mind the $500 couch that disassembled itself after only a few weeks of ownership. Or the dresser whose middle drawer failed within a year, the parts required for repair only to be found in a country that speaks metric. Those little fiascos only taught me that one must choose carefully when circumnavigating those cavernous temples built in worship of Mr. and Mrs. Eames. In a venture that attempts to strike a balance between the cost of materials, labor and design in favor of the consumer, it is to be expected that not every product prove fruitful. Or, that once born, that the fruit might prove bitter.

The experience with Ikea that forever changed my relationship with the brand was one that involved the attempted exchange of a $10 defective plastic storage container. It was one of eight such containers that I had bought for a new shelving unit I’d purchased for the bedroom. The containers, like everything else in the store, were sold flat and required assembly. The sides were snapped together first, the bottom piece was then slid into the container to lock against the base and three adhesive felt strips were applied to the underside to prevent the containers from scratching their berths when pulled from the shelves. The first seven went together without a hitch, only the last revealed a broken side panel that prevented its final assembly. Unable to “unlock” the side panels from one another, I decided that the easiest way to return the container would be to go ahead a drop the bottom piece into place and dump the instruction booklet and felt strips within for easier transportation back to the store.

Ikea has very large signs that proclaim the generosity of its return and exchange program. A giant heart with outstretched arms signals their intent to bestow unconditional satisfaction upon the rare customer whose purchase proves too onerous a responsibility to continue. The product, one is lead to believe, will be welcomed back happily, the customer quickly reunited with the funds spent in purchase and his bond with the company and brand forever strengthened by the trial.

The twenty or so minutes of discussion and verbal wrestling required to exchange the $10 container revealed to me an awful truth. Ikea does not like to take responsibility for defective merchandise. In fact, I got the distinct impression that returns and exchanges were not so much governed by a strictly adhered to store policy as the customer service representatives espoused, but by a quota system, whereby said employees were rewarded by keeping the volume of successful returns and exchanges to a minimum. It’s only speculation on my part, but the degree to which “store policy” seemed to shift and transmute to counter my requests for an exchange seemed almost personal. As if my exchange wasn’t so much effecting Ikea’s bottom line as it was that of the employee.

Initially I was told by the employee that she could not accept my exchange because there was no way to prove that the damage sustained by the container had not been my fault. I was speechless. By that logic, how could any item ever be returned as defective? A dented corner? A broken wheel? When I pointed to the other seven containers listed on the receipt that I was not attempting to exchange as proof of my competence at following assembly instructions, she was hardly phased. She couldn’t make an exception. It was store policy. Since the damage could have resulted from faulty assembly, I was out of luck.

Stunned, I began walking back towards my car. Who was I to fight store policy? Dejected, I scanned the return policy printed on the reverse of the receipt still clutched in my hand, expecting the worst.

At Ikea, we strive to sell quality merchandise. All of our products carry a guarantee for material quality and workmanship. If, after proper assembly and car you find a defect with an item, please bring it back to us for repair or replacement.

Say what? I thought the employee had been quoting from the holy scripture of store policy — how could this blatant contradiction appear on the back of the receipt? I turned around, marched back to the counter, interrupted the employee as she was assisting another customer and demanded to see a manager.

I can’t begin to describe how stupid I felt to do this over $10. But that’s what Ikea seemed to be counting on. And that angered me more.

The manager wasn’t sympathetic. This time, it wasn’t distrust of the customer that prevented my exchange, it was that she could only accept the defective container if it was returned unassembled. Since I had assembled it, I could not return it. Store policy. I explained that once the side panels were locked together, there was really no way for me to take them back apart without further damaging the unit and that the initial damage had not been discovered until after I had started assembly. She then shifted her position, stating this time that since the container was fully assembled, store policy dictated that she could not accept the return. It was inferred that partial assembly wouldn’t have been an issue. Angrily, I pulled the instruction booklet out and thumbed to the last page, wherein the attachment of the felt runners was described. Then, I pointed to the unused felt strips lying inside the broken container. Never mind that the receipt itself declared that returns were accepted once assembly was completed, I had clearly demonstrated that I met the criteria required of a return that she had just stated. By not attaching the felt strips, assembly had never been completed. Therefore, she had to accept my exchange. Checkmate.

I left that day with an unbroken container but the struggle that had been required to obtain it had left me feeling bitter. I vowed that when I finally had a pulpit from which to preach that I would retell this story for anyone willing to listen. It’s amazing how a corporation could buy so much ill with so little money. All I had wanted was a $10 container that worked. Whether it was through intentionally deceitful business practices or poor training and management, the result was a customer that now poisons their brand image at every opportunity. You’d think that the poor quality of their materials and the shoddiness of their manufacturing would be doing enough damage on its own. Attractive design and customer loyalty is really all they’ve got. To this day, I recount this story whenever the subject of Ikea is broached in conversation. No brand triggers more anger at its mere mentioning for me than Ikea. Well, other than Volkswagen — but that’s a story for another time.

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