IKEA’s Pajama Party Made Me Regret I Was Even Born

I'm standing in my dotted pajamas next to my boyfriend. We're surrounded by a vast array of checkered pants, more or less tightly worn morning robes, heart-patterned shirts, and the like.

What was I thinking?

The hundreds of strangers wearing said garments had the same goal as us this morning: to make it into IKEA and benefit from their "free money" campaign.

The allure of the pajama party concept

On August 31, 2024, in Norway, you could show up at any IKEA store and be offered a 500 NOK voucher to use the same day.

[Note: in other countries, such as Canada, the pajama party was on September 7.]

Other countries were not as privileged, being only offered 20 € vouchers (the Netherlands) or having their discount conditioned on a minimum purchase amount (Italy).

Norwegian customers were also fortunate to be offered a free breakfast before 11.

Were we, though? Fortunate that is.

By the time we arrive at 10:45, the line extends far across the parking lot.

As we park our bikes and peer at the crowd, I sense that M is discouraged. He was excited about our date - so was I. Turning free breakfast into one was my idea.

What was I thinking?

We fought this morning, hence our arrival close to the 11:00 deadline.

"It's okay if you don't want to go," I tell him. I mean it. Not because I'm discouraged myself, but because I want be a supportive girlfriend.

"We could even have breakfast somewhere else."

Reader, note we're only wearing our pajamas at this point. I am not thinking.

M refuses plan B, and states he wants to go home. But by the time we've unlocked our bikes, he notices the line seems to get shorter. Faster even.

"Do you want to go after all?" I ask.

What was I thinking?

As we enter the building, we find out that another line of people coming from the opposite side of the parking lot is merging with the one we're currently standing in.

That should have tipped me off. Everything up to that point should have tipped me off. It didn't. What was I thinking!

In the belly of the lion

The line keeps moving smoothly, and at exactly 10:57, we're in! Unfortunately, our dreams of a free breakfast are soon shattered by an employee in a yellow shirt. "It's full."

Earlier, I heard somebody mention the number 200. I tell M that they probably only had food for the first 200 people who showed up.

Somehow, this backfires, and I spend the first minutes of our "date" hearing about how it's unacceptable that IKEA did not advertise this particular information, or that they even had a limit.

What was I thinking?

Fortunately, M starts smiling again when he finds the one thing he came here to get today - a pillow - and realizes it is worth his entire voucher. Zero waste of free money.

Meanwhile, I am still trying to be patient and make do. But having to navigate around shelves of products and hundreds of people walking at different paces - some of them with trolleys and/or children - tends to get on my nerves.

Reader, you should know that I don't enjoy crowds and struggle with a bit of social anxiety.

What. The. Heck. Was. I. Thinking?!

At least we're moving, but once we've finally found everything we need and placed ourselves in one of the four painfully long lines to the self-checkout stations, time slows down.

The getaway to our freedom is near, yet light-years away (or so it feels).

"This is my version of hell," I sigh.

"No, hell would be this, except there's no goal to the waiting; you wait indefinitely". M playfully replies.

"Oh! But the difference with Heaven," he continues excitedly as I see the light bulb of an idea illuminate his face, "if you die and go to Heaven, it's kind of the same, but you get a voucher."

I laugh heartily, slightly scrunching the piece of paper in my hand.

And then it hits me: I must be dead.

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Originally published at Medium.com

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