The Kris Kringle of Ikea
The other day K and I were at Ikea... on a weekend no less. Ikea is the Costco of furniture stores if you don't know and it's basically a boil on the butt of humanity (credit goes to Steel Magnolias for that one.) Anyway the patrons represent a cross section of the community that can only be compared to the characters you'd see on a day at the DMV. If you ever wonder how Europeans, or the world at large for that matter, view Americans hit up your local Ikea. Anyway it was a field day for my inner social critic, I was basically the Joan Rivers of that place if only in my own head. It's a shame actually that my snarky thoughts were shared with me alone, my spastic stream of judgements were pretty funny. I digress.
What was actually noteworthy (at least to me) about this visit happened after K and I had made the thousand mile trek around that maze. We had the kiddies with us and they wanted to play in this indoor playland thingy so we took them there and had to wait in the lobby area because adults aren't allowed inside. Yeah I thought that was bizarre too but that's besides the point. So there were couches set up outside the play area and one couch was on a platform right next to the entrance. That's where we plopped down.
Giant automated sliding doors beckoned bargain shoppers inside and an escalator to savings heaven lay just beyond. There was an oldish man standing there and with each swoosh of the doors opening he would greet the customers entering.
He was gray on top and round in the middle, pot-bellied in a sweet aging way, not of the icky Nascar type. He wore cargo pants, a polo tucked in, a belt, and bright tennis shoes. Something about those colorful kicks made me like him right away. He had an accent from a faraway place with cold weather and his cheeks were pink and puffy. He was kind of like a preppy version of Santa Claus if I had to make a comparison and he was the official Ikea Greeter.
I liked watching him. He greeted each person with a, "Welcome!" or "Hello!" and even though most people ignored him completely he gave a shy little smile each time. This made my heart hurt a little for him. After staring for awhile he noticed me. I was caught off guard and awkwardly waved, took a big swig from my bottle water and looked to my right at nothing in particular. I love watching, I hate getting caught.
I wondered about him though. Like what his story was. Where he was from? How he came to work the door at Ikea saying hello to ungrateful, self absorbed patrons? Did he have family or did he spend holidays alone? And I wanted to know if it bothered him when people ignored him. It would bother me.
You know I guess he could have been a total prick. But there was something about that quiet smile that made me think not. That smile and those shoes made me wish people would just say hi back when they pushed through the doors in their greedy pursuit of bargains.
What was actually noteworthy (at least to me) about this visit happened after K and I had made the thousand mile trek around that maze. We had the kiddies with us and they wanted to play in this indoor playland thingy so we took them there and had to wait in the lobby area because adults aren't allowed inside. Yeah I thought that was bizarre too but that's besides the point. So there were couches set up outside the play area and one couch was on a platform right next to the entrance. That's where we plopped down.
Giant automated sliding doors beckoned bargain shoppers inside and an escalator to savings heaven lay just beyond. There was an oldish man standing there and with each swoosh of the doors opening he would greet the customers entering.
He was gray on top and round in the middle, pot-bellied in a sweet aging way, not of the icky Nascar type. He wore cargo pants, a polo tucked in, a belt, and bright tennis shoes. Something about those colorful kicks made me like him right away. He had an accent from a faraway place with cold weather and his cheeks were pink and puffy. He was kind of like a preppy version of Santa Claus if I had to make a comparison and he was the official Ikea Greeter.
I liked watching him. He greeted each person with a, "Welcome!" or "Hello!" and even though most people ignored him completely he gave a shy little smile each time. This made my heart hurt a little for him. After staring for awhile he noticed me. I was caught off guard and awkwardly waved, took a big swig from my bottle water and looked to my right at nothing in particular. I love watching, I hate getting caught.
I wondered about him though. Like what his story was. Where he was from? How he came to work the door at Ikea saying hello to ungrateful, self absorbed patrons? Did he have family or did he spend holidays alone? And I wanted to know if it bothered him when people ignored him. It would bother me.
You know I guess he could have been a total prick. But there was something about that quiet smile that made me think not. That smile and those shoes made me wish people would just say hi back when they pushed through the doors in their greedy pursuit of bargains.
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