Play Live Radio
Next Up:
0:00
0:00
0:00 0:00
Available On Air Stations
Supported by

John L. Smith: IKEA Means Meatballs, Skoggy and Jobs

Gerard Stolk/Flickr

I may get to Sweden one day. But until then there’s IKEA, the gargantuan blue box store at Durango and I-215 that recently opened to fanfare normally reserved for a Floyd Mayweather Jr. fight of the century on the Strip.

It was a windy Monday -- a Monday, for crying out loud -- but an army of automobiles filled the sprawling parking lot to near capacity. Metro officers directed traffic, and yellow-vested IKEA valets pointed toward open spaces like helpful restaurant hosts.

With my daughter and partner along as witnesses, I’d come to find out what all the shouting was about following the opening of the company’s 42nd store in the United States.

Sponsor Message

IKEA calls itself a home furnishings store, but it’s no mere sofa warehouse. And I can’t recall the last time the ribbon-cutting on even the largest La-Z-Boy shop was anticipated by locals.  

What’s the big IKEA?

I knew I was in trouble when the friendly IKEA team member handed me a map of the store.

The queue formed just inside the door and up the escalator. There a long, winding river of people -- all shapes, sizes and colors, and plenty of families with babies in strollers -- waiting patiently for their turn to enjoy the IKEA cafeteria.

But where are the couches? I thought. What about the Swedish designed end tables and lamps? And what of the remarkably efficient kitchen ideas I’d heard so much about?

Sponsor Message

They would take a back seat to ... Swedish meatballs. (Sorry, Italian meatball fans. You’ll have to get your own furniture store.)

The cafeteria, clearly the most popular feature in IKEA Land, couldn’t have been busier if they’d been giving away golden tickets to Willie Wonka’s Chocolate factory. With the exception of some wonderful smelling fried chicken tenders and a wide variety of desserts -- try the lemon blueberry cheesecake -- the cafeteria served an eclectic array of mostly healthy looking cuisine with not a single greasy cheeseburger in sight. Salads and salmon and plenty of meatballs of the beef, chicken and even vegetable variety went by the dozen.

If you think Swedish meatballs aren’t an integral part of the marketing strategy, guess again, Bjorn: The company awarded meatball meals for a year for the first 42 adults through the door during its recent grand opening event.

By the time we finished shopping in the cafeteria, I was ready for a nap on one of the renowned IKEA beds you can assemble with a single wrench. Then I began to realize why I’d been handed that map. The place is amazing, but it is also a maze.

Like that cafeteria line, the store winds through display after display of some of the coolest faux rooms most of us can only dream of living in.

Sponsor Message

On its website, the company’s worldview goes like this: “At IKEA we believe that thoughtful design should be functional, sustainable and affordable. And that small details can make a big difference in your home, your life and your world. And that's why we're öppen to doing things a little differently.”

One sign called a curtain accessory a “Dignitet,” and one kind of sofa was labeled “Skoggby.” There was a “Klippan” love seat and a plant pot with the lofty title, “Bittergorka.” A table lamp named “Sinnerlig” and an overstuffed chair labeled “Ek Torp” added to the odyssey.

I was feeling a little Ek Torp myself after all those Swedish meatballs and nearly fell asleep in the chair, but I digress.

Frankly, all the names made me wonder if customers weren’t being played for suckers, American rubes at the ultimate ABBA poker game.

But according to the Business Insider website, the whacky Swedish names were created by IKEA’s founder Ingvar Kamprad, who just happened to be dyslexic.

As it turns out, there was a method to Ingvar’s madness.

Swedish place names were reserved for upholstered furniture, coffee tables, bookshelves and the like. Norwegian place names were used for beds, wardrobes and hall furniture. Finnish place names were borrowed for dining tables and chairs.

After a fashion, even Ingvar ran out of suitable place names, and so he added occupations, men’s and women’s names, Swedish islands, nautical terms, precious stones, mammals, birds, adjectives and so on until the inventory of IKEA’s 10,000 or so products became a wonderful incomprehensible jumble that has captured America’s heart and has us scratching our heads even as we ask ourselves: If I paid for a houseful of furniture, why do I have to assemble it myself?

It’s okay, fellow citizens. I hear the Swedes are just as “forvirrad,” that is to say confused, as we are.

After a couple hours of smiling at the Swedish names for living room furnishings and kitchen accoutrement, I was just plain “utmattad,” or exhausted.

The best part of the experience? Knowing that the new Las Vegas IKEA store provides full-time employment for 300 of our friends and neighbors.

In my book, that makes the clean, well-lighted and very crowded place downright “underbar.”