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| Angelika/Mike Schilli |
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A line of people had formed in front of the entrance. To prevent people from trampling each other inside, they were only allowed in small groups, and only when some left the store, others were allowed to move in. The waiting time was about one to two hours--just to get into the store. That was too silly for us, so we drove home, planning to return a few weeks later when the excitement would have subsided a bit.
This time, we just managed to find a parking spot, immediately entered the store, and strolled through the aisles. Ikeas look the same all over the world: upstairs is for furniture displays, you mentally select what you want, and then pick it up downstairs. Once downstairs, instead of the selected piece of furniture, you find a red note on the corresponding shelf indicating that the item is out of stock. Frustrated, you buy a 100-pack of tea lights. The Ikea in Oakland, however, took it a step further: when we got downstairs, we only saw completely empty shelves--I was reminded of a visit to a department store in East Berlin in the mid-80s! Frustrated, we didn't even buy a 100-pack of tea lights but rather a useless little wooden box with drawers that were far too small, and we drove home.
The local press has already taken up the topic of "Ikea"--in an article in the San Francisco Examiner.
Meanwhile, the local press has taken on the subject, the a story in the San Francisco Examiner suggested to simply sell tickets in front of the entrance to at least make it look like a museum visit if no furniture could be found.
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