Adding to the Kitchen: Step 5--Buying Countertops

Culture shock is a beast.  The kind with multiple heads and a lashing tail and venomous odor.  It's not just those first few weeks, months year(s) in a new country.  It's also these terrible little moments that sneak up on you when you least expect them because you've acclimated already.  You're over the hump.  You know how things go.  You should be past this.  Moments that shouldn't occur when you've lived in stupid beautiful France for more than five years now.

Can you guess that I had a moment?

So...building a kitchen cabinet with a counter at Ikea in France as a single foreigner woman is not easy. I don't know if removing one of those elements (or a combination of them) would make it easier, but all those elements together = culture shock emotional catastrophe meltdown moment.

Let me begin at the beginning.

On the wall in the kitchen where I am adding two new cabinets with counter tops, there is a radiator.  The radiator is 60ish centimeters away from the far left wall, and then 55ish centimeters away (on its right) from the cabinet/counter that I recently moved next to the fridge.  Thus, because of the radiator, I cannot have one, nice long countertop with cabinets underneath.  I need two: one that is 60cms and one that is 50cms.  Separate..and not even equal, due to the different amounts of space.

(Who puts a radiator in the kitchen?!  The French do, that's who!  Because they think if they get cold, they'll die.  So they jack up the heat, wear a scarf the size of a small country, and put a radiator in the kitchen.)

After studying the Ikea website twice with Mrs. X, and determining exactly which cabinets I wanted and all the details involved in picking said cabinets (drawers or shelves?  three drawers or two? etc.), I was ready to go to Ikea and spend a ridiculous amount of money on particle board.  Mrs. X went with me and we prayed that it would go smoothly.

God answered that prayer with a resounding, "No.  Today's your day to learn patience, self-control, gentleness, etc."

The non-helpful Ikea man talked to us for nearly an hour, going round and round in circles, without ever fully directly answering our questions.  Here's the deal: Ikea sells two types of counter tops.  One is their own, which comes in pre-made sizes and is listed as cheaper in price than the other.  If you cut the countertop yourself and install it yourself, it is cheaper.  However, if you need Ikea to cut and install it...the price situation changes.  The second kind is made by an artisan, looks nicer, and is not listed with any price.  It is made by the artisan to the exact measurements you give, delivered for free to your house, but you have to install it yourself.

Now, the non-helpful Ikea man did not explain all of that information that clearly that day.  I never fully understood everything he said.  I kept turning to Mrs. X and saying, "What'd he just say?  What does that mean?"

One thing I did understand that day: if I ordered the cabinets (along with other items, like bookshelves), which I would need all of it delivered along with the Ikea countertops, they would not deliver anything.  Why?  Because...  I learned a long time ago in France not to ask "why" because often there is no logical answer.    

So I said to the non-helpful Ikea man, "Let me get this straight: If I order everything today...cabinets, countertop, bookshelves...Ikea will NOT deliver.  But, if I order the cabinets and bookshelves today, with no countertop, Ikea WILL deliver them?"

"Yes."

"And if I come in tomorrow, and order just the countertop, Ikea WILL deliver it?"

"Yes."

"Goodness gracious, then let's do that and I'll just come back tomorrow."  WHY in the world I cannot order the two on the same day and have them delivered as they're ready is beyond me.  Do I chalk it up to Ikea or to France?  I don't know.  So.  I ordered cabinets with no countertops.

After looking at every possible store that sold countertops to make sure I wanted to stick with the Ikea ones, I headed back to Ikea for a second time.  I explained that I had two separate cabinets and I would like to purchase a countertop for them.

This is when it got ugly.

"Oh, I see," says the non-helpful Ikea woman.  "You'd like the standard 185cm counter top to go all the way across your two cabinets with the space in between/underneath like a table?"

"No.  I'd like the countertop cut exactly to fit the two separate cabinets.  There's a radiator between them.  I can't have the countertop go in front of the radiator."

"Oh, I see," says the non-helpful Ikea woman.  She click, click, clicks, and prints off a paper, and begins explaining where I can go downstairs to pick up the 185cm countertop.

"Excuse me, ma'am, you don't understand.  I don't have a car.  I can't go downstairs to pick up the countertop.  I need it cut...by Ikea.  And then delivered...by Ikea."

"Oh, I see," says the non-helpful Ikea woman, who apparently doesn't actually.  "We don't do that."

"I'm sorry, what?"  I respond.

"'C'est impossible.  Ikea doesn't cut or deliver countertops.  Let me go double check."  She walks away and asks another non-helpful Ikea woman.  Upon returning, she confirms, "Nope.  We don't cut or deliver countertops."

My eyes welt up with tears out of pure frustration.  Some one at Ikea doesn't know their information.  Either it was the non-helpful Ikea man, who told me about making a down payment for a pre-visit, and paying per hour for the installation, or this woman...who was telling me the opposite.  Either way, I felt stuck.

Culture shock will do that to you.  It numbs your brain so that you can't think straight or logically or remember how to even say something beyond, "But that's not what the man told me last time I was here."  And I really, really don't like to cry in front of people, especially because of culture shock, and so I just mumbled thanks and walked away.  Because my cell phone doesn't get reception deep in the bowels of Ikea, I had to get out of the store before I could call Mrs. X.

I was that crazy woman walking through Ikea trying not to cry as I mumbled, "I hate this country.  I can't build a kitchen by myself.  Some days its just too much and I want to go home.  Where there's summer rain and yogurt covered blueberries.  Stupid France and their 'C'est impossible.'  Their lazy 35 hour work week feeds their 'c'est impossible' that they use as a response when they just don't want to do something.  Ikea isn't a Lowe's.  If I could cut my own countertop, I'd go to Lowe's."  And on and on the culture shock rant tirade went.

Once outside, I called Mrs. X, the voice of reason.  She talked me through everything, having me repeat the entire conversation back to her, (the one with the non-helpful Ikea woman, not the culture shock induced emotional tirade one that I had with myself).  She told me to go back in, start over, and make sure to use the word "install."  She knows from first-hand experience that Ikea in France cuts and installs countertops...they did hers!

I went back for a third time and tried all over again, praying that I wouldn't get another non-helpful Ikea person.  God delightfully answered that prayer with a "Yes."

I explained my whole situation once again: two separate cabinets, radiator, need of countertop to be cut and installed.  The helpful Ikea man asked me which countertop I would like, and I asked if he could explain the difference between the two types.  He explained that the Ikea one was cheaper, but it only came with two "chants" (the piece for the sides that covers up the particle board inside), and since I have separate cabinets, I would really need to buy two countertops (to get four chants).  "But Ikea's countertops are so cheap that you can still buy two of ours for cheaper than the price of the artisanal!"

"I understand that it's your job to push the Ikea countertop and that it is cheaper.  But I really like the artisanal one.  Will you please just tell me about it?"

...and he did.  Turns out, to install the countertop, you only need 4 screws and a screwdriver.  I have that.  I can do that.  But the only way for Ikea to cut the countertop for me is to pay the down payment and the installation fee...which would come out to be more expensive than the artisanal, which had free delivery and no installation.  Once he and I figured out that I could install the countertop myself, we both realized I'd made the decision that worked best for me.

He reviewed to make sure that I understood.  Two separate countertops, with four chants each, cut exactly to the dimensions of my cabinets, and delivered for free, but I install them myself.  I asked, "Is the underneath material easy to screw into?  Remember--I'm a girl!"  He laughed and said he'd double check.  He returned smiling, "Yes.  Even a girl can install these."  He handed me off to another helpful Ikea woman, who placed the order for me.

After all that drama, the total cost: 102 euros.  Gee whiz.

Culture shock induced emotional catastrophe in the middle of Ikea diverted.  And, I ended up with the pretty marble-looking countertops I've always dreamed of.  They'll be here in about six weeks.  Good thing it's too hot to cook right now anyway.