Ikea My Way

An affordable way to cheer up.

While the Ikea in Red Hook, Brooklyn is miles from where I live, it's surprisingly easy and convenient to get to, thanks to a reliable subway system and the free shuttle one could take upon alighting from the train (in the wintertime, just be sure to bundle up for the wait at the stop).

Before I go on with a fairly recent afternoon's trip to the Swedish megastore, let me tell you a story:

In the middle of Times Square, one night I found myself crying in public while on the phone with my husband. It was from all the bottled up frustration—coupled with the loneliness from being far away from him—that I shamelessly started to tear up amidst the crowd and on a very busy street. If you've been reading this blog, you would know that I'm big on positivity, going with the flow, and living in the moment. But, that night, I succumbed to a weak moment and the reality of my situation suddenly hit me: I was jobless, alone, and somewhat broke. I also felt like a nobody—a feeling triggered by a previous visit to the Fox Newscorp building where I went in to use the ATM and was turned away by the guards (it was a holiday so they weren't really letting people without a company ID in). I thought: Will I even end up working here to get my Julia Roberts moment a la Pretty Woman? (Cue script: "Remember I was here the other day and you wouldn't let me in? Big mistake, HUGE. I have to go shopping now...")

In New York, I have no clout, no influence over office buildings... I knew it was a very mundane situation and it was the job of security to screen people out, but that night was a compoundment of all the exasperation I'd been feeling ever since I lost my last full-time job and embarked on this bumpy journey of a jobhunt. I felt overwhelmed by the rejection, the uncertainty, the waiting... I just wanted to cry. So I did.

Meatballs and more.

Now back to Ikea. I did mention that I was somewhat broke, meaning, not totally. My wallet hasn't been empty (at its leanest, it still had coins), thanks to a little help from loved ones. And, I do have my writing jobs, but the checks have been delayed, and when this Times Square incident happened, I had been lagging behind my rent and I had an upcoming bill to pay.

I needed serious cheering up—fast, and on the cheap. I couldn't think of a better way of drowning my sorrrows while being productive than a super sulit, affordable meal in the Ikea cafeteria and a quiet moment to tip-tap-type away...somewhere distant, somewhere neutral, somewhere I could gather my thoughts, re-compose myself, and get back on track with the whole positive thing. And, good food and good design are pretty much excellent antidotes to melanchoy and self-pity.

Over a refillable cup of good coffee and a slice of chocolate cream cake, compose my thoughts, feelings, and self, I did. It occurred to me to make the Ikea café my back-up office when I needed a change of scenery from the one I had at home. I also thought of applying in retail and making my Swedish store fancy official...whatever it takes to keep moving, to keep applying, to keep interviewing, until I finally find a new office and land myself a job that would make all these New York plans and dreams a reality. It could be a spot selling well-designed housewares, it could be a cubicle in a shiny high-rise tower writing some sort of snappy marketing copy, it could be anything. But, one thing's for sure, the next time you see me in Times Square you won't find me sobbing.