The Pitchipax Generation

in #philosophy5 years ago


Last Friday I drove to Ikea. The place opened at 9 so I left early. I put the child in the garden, packed my wife, and went to the branch near my house. At 9:15 I arrived. Within a radius of 50 meters from the entrance there was no parking. We watched young families, single couples, adults walking to the temple with the yellow symbol. Suddenly I began to feel a sense of pressure in me, as if everything in IKEA was free and all the preliminaries were winning. It also worked out for me that the annual Ikea sailor took place, and in direct translation the woman left no choice.

As a well-educated Israeli, I brought my wife down and went to the park about two minutes away. As I passed through the big door with quite a few people like me, she was already waiting for me with a yellow sack full of ambition to renew the house. We climbed the stairs and started the route. Not that Friday is the least worthwhile day to shop, or rather, to run around a design museum that is also an endless maze alongside hundreds of other people. The great feature required us to stay almost constantly moving. The modern design and the arrangement of the mufti rooms made me feel a pleasure at the thought of how I would ever plan the rooms in our apartment with similar professionalism.

On the other hand, prices, I thought, were no bargain. The expensive things were less expensive but not less so. The cheap things, the Pitchipax, we would buy without a discount. After finishing the first part of the labyrinth, we went down to the ground floor and started our journey to the checkout. For some reason I felt exhausted. The dozens of products that we passed required us to make a decisive decision whether to purchase the item or give it up. As soon as a few items that we had hesitated about accumulated, and the new items that entered our set of considerations did not diminish, the task became difficult. After a short period of willpower, the goals were forgotten and the heart surrendered. The hand began to put small, beautiful things, though less useful, into the yellow bag.

The beret journey continued even when we went downstairs. Anyone who has had a hard time deciding whether to buy a small table or a library cupboard and decide against it is likely to rethink the entry level or the long wait for the cashier. My wife and I arrived only with the yellow sack. We bravely gave up furniture that satisfied our eyes but in our opinion did not justify its price. I was convinced that I would be a strange bird among all the buyers who hurried to the entrance and began the journey as we did. To my amazement, I was surprised. We saw mostly people holding sets of plates, pillows, cups, little things for children, and maybe some long brown box from time to time. I realized with great pride that my wife and I belong to a new generation of purchasers of pichipaks, who buy everything in their eyes and buy only a little something to enter the atmosphere. When we got to the car we decided it would be a great idea to go to Sarona.

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