We ordered a table. We have never “ORDERED” furniture – food yes, furniture no. We’re more the: bring it home yourself and have a mini hissy fit when you can’t find the screwdriver kind of people. But we lost it, freaked out like a couple of manic folks who have given the prosaic the old heave-ho for the week, only we didn’t buy a Porsche, we bought a TABLE.
We measured it, we petted it, we went to visit the larger showroom version of it. We took people with us to visit it and we waited…
for them to make it? Manufacture it? Ship it? I’m not sure, but we were told it was such and exotic High End manufacturing set up, that the shop would put in our order and then we would wait for 6-8 weeks (!) before we could invite people over to sit around it while we served food.
6-8 weeks takes the whole, manic impulse feeling out of the purchase. Sort of puts other impulse buys into perspective, imagine rocking up to McDonald’s and ordering that yummy scrumy Big Mac only to be told it would be brought to you… by appointment… some time in the future. You might have a cooling off period and think perhaps an apple would be just as nice. That’s how I was beginning to feel about THE TABLE. But not the husband. He was still euphoric. He was so sure this table was finally THE nice thing that we should own after a million years of not having Nice Things not to mention enough matching chairs for the people in our family.
The appointed day came and I was so nervous I went to the library to duck the drama of delivery. I left the husband to do the meet and greet and disappeared. When I came through the park, there was a massive truck emblazoned with the logo:
“BoConcept – not just furniture, but a concept.”
That’s when I knew I was in trouble. You see, I actually want FURNITURE, not a CONCEPT of furniture.
The table was nice, it shrank down to a usual size and opened out to a larger size and had the look that brought to mind a sketch map showing some ideal room, where the people are as perfect and as idealised as the table. I put my hand out to pet the table and welcome it, to make a truce with it, and that’s when the trouble started.
The table was rough with the feel more of sandpaper than smooth writing surface, when extended the joints between the table and the extra bits showed uneven gaps, and the swish superfluous addition to the table for pure looks so we can all pretend the table is actually large and not extended, fell off, continuously, annoyingly, relentlessly, laughably.
I rang, of course, and waited for a week for the lads to come back out with their screwdrivers and tools in a truck reminding me that I did not indeed buy furniture, but a concept. HE whipped out a rough bumpy sample of the timber for the table. I whipped out a smooth sample we were handed at the shop.
He looked hurt, and tried to explain he couldn’t base a table on a showroom and a sample. WHO KNEW what had happened to those pieces? That was a SALES problem, not his. OTHERS had complained about the texture of the table, he’d told them not to be silly, the table is rough and THAT customer never rang HIM again. For every other flaw? They were nothing, that’s the way things come, factories have acceptable levels of flaws…BUT they will HUMOUR me and check with head office.
So my concept table and I will have to wait, to see what Head Office thinks. The husband is a little crushed and defensive that his beloved is slightly flawed, becoming more bonded with the flawed table with every dinner. But just in case, I have foraged in the shed, unearthed the screw driver and am looking again at good old Ikea whose tag line is “The Wonderful Everyday” which is either reality or sarcasm…depending on your mood.