The best thing about IKEA is the play center. That is, if it’s open, which is rare. Whenever I take the boy to IKEA—whether it’s first thing in the morning, during lunch or in the late afternoon—the play center is almost always packed or close altogether. Despite it being crowded at IKEA today, the boy was able to play in the ball room for about an hour this afternoon.
The worst thing about IKEA is that the place is staffed with imbeciles. The lady who checked in the boy could barely keep track of what was going on around her and I ended up filling out the parental consent form twice because she misplaced the first one.
After busy daddy and I finished shopping for a few storage bins, I went to pick up the boy from the play center. I told another IKEA lady that I was here to pick up my son, and I handed her my ticket. The IKEA lady said, “Kim Jarmoosh? What kind of name is that?” I said, Actually, it’s not Kim, it’s Kipp. And it’s not Jarmoosh, it’s … oh nevermind.
She looked at me and then at the ticket. She said, “Beekah? Berkett? How do you pronounce his name?” I said, It’s pronounced the way that it’s spelled. The lady said, “That’s a weird name for a boy.” I said, Well, those of us with unusual names need to stick together, don’t we, Zhaharameesha’kiah.
IKEA lady didn’t seem amused. I think I might have mispronounced her name, but it was pretty long and the name on her name tag was written in 9-point type, so it was kind of hard to tell.