Edgework

I had heard about “the trap” from my adult children, so I can’t say that I was not warned.

Ruth and I were on our way to the Winnipeg International Airport on February 13th to welcome our twelfth grandchild, Tamir, who was to arrive at noon from Ethiopia along with Bryon and Kristal who had gone to fetch him. We had given ourselves lots of time to make sure we would not be late. So it was only 11:00 a.m. by the time we were heading north on Route 90 toward the airport. Suddenly we came upon the newest marvel to arrive in Winnipeg – the giant IKEA store just south of McGillivary Blvd.

Ruth inquired nonchalantly whether I was interested in checking out the store for a bit. Well, we did have half an hour to kill, I thought, so what would it hurt to step in, look around a bit and leave. So we turned in, parked our Fiat and headed for the prison doors. The entrance area was pleasant enough. The only escalator in sight was going up, so we stepped aboard and rode our way voluntarily into our own entrapment.

We soon became aware that we were expected to follow a certain path. My goodness, there were arrows clearly marked on the floor, so we obeyed them with a naïve submissiveness. Within a few minutes we had lost sight of the entrance, indeed any natural light. And the arrows on the floor kept directing us ever deeper into the heart of the labyrinth. At first we took note of some of the items on display, but after ten minutes or so I lost complete interest in the displays and became preoccupied with thoughts of how I could break free of this trap.

Quite regularly we saw little red signs showing a stick man running for an exit. Clearly they were intended for use in case of a fire, but I began to fantasize about making a break through the fire exit back into the real world. Of course Ruth thought that a foolish idea, so we kept walking. After about twenty minutes of walking I became somewhat desperate because we needed to be on our way. But would we ever see our trusty Fiat again? I wasn’t sure. Ruth is normally a faster walker than I but by now I was in the lead with her trying to keep up to me. My quickened pace was being fueled by heat emanating from under my collar.

When I spotted the escalator going down, I breathed a sigh of relief. We would be down and out in a few minutes and on our way to the airport. Whew! That was a close one, I thought. To my dismay the escalator did not land us at the exit, but at the outset of a second maze encompassing the first floor. By now I was mad and my pace quickened even more.  It was nearly 11:30 a.m. and we were in danger of missing Tamir’s arrival. Ruth began to empathize with my agony and together we kept our eyes peeled for any possible escape route. Finally Ruth noticed a small “short-cut” sign. We took it but the maze continued anyway.

By the time we finally saw daylight again I was fit to be tied – a rather unusual state for me to be in. I thought I had more or less learned how to take stressful situations in stride, but I guess I still have some learning to do. I still suffer from a bit of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder brought on by this experience. I am telling you this story because I am told that talking openly about one’s trauma can be therapeutic.

By the time we rushed headlong into the reception area at the airport the arrivals sign indicated that Tamir’s flight had already landed. And yes, we were there when Tamir and his new parents descended the escalator into the reception area. Ruth and I are dedicated grandparents, indeed! But IKEA had nearly tarnished our stellar record.

In my weaker moments I am tempted to take IKEA to court on charges of unlawful confinement, kidnapping, attempted extortion or even bullying. However I am choosing to see this experience as a metaphor for the way our culture of consumerism has trapped many of us. Most of the time we are unmindful of the forces arrayed against us that try to define us as consumers, above all else. We have become used to aggressive advertising wherever it appears: billboards, television, internet, newspapers, magazines and more.

Thoughtful people have known for a long time that most of this advertising is designed to get us to buy something you don’t really need. More than letting us know where to find a product should we determine that we need it, advertising in our modern context is intent on creating a sense of need within people which specific products can alleviate. Why else must I be told repeatedly during one newscast on television that I really should consider buying either a Lexus, Acura, BMW or Lincoln? I do quite well with an ordinary vehicle to get me around!

In most cases, advertising attempts psychological ensnarement which an alert person can at least fend off. I can turn off the television, laugh at the silly game being played, refuse to click on the internet advertisement, or promptly delete suspicious emails. The only difference in the IKEA store is that advertisers have stepped it up a notch by giving physical shape to psychological pressure. Now you become physically trapped and forced to see their wares if you ever expect to see the light of day again.

Actually I think it is stepping down a notch. And it is a forceful reminder to me not to allow myself to be defined primarily as a consumer. I am a rebel with a cause. I will not return to the IKEA store on Route 90 any time soon.