We finally moved into our new E4X Toronto digs last night, and thus spent the night doing what all small tech companies do when they move into a new office–drinking beer and assembling a mountain of IKEA furniture.

Somewhere between the boardroom/dining table and the desk in Pod 4, it crystallized for me that there is clearly someone at IKEA whose full-time job is to edit perfectly useful assembly instructions to the point where they’re sufficiently vague and confusing.

I envision the Product Designer creating full, complete, thorough documentation that has rich images, diagrams, and textual descriptions of how their furniture design should be assembled.

Next, I envision the Instructions Editor reducing 23 steps to 8 steps, removing all text, deleting labels like ‘top’, ‘bottom’, ‘inside’, ‘outside’, ‘left’, ‘right’, ‘finished’, ‘unfinished’, etc.  They may, in exceptional cases, add things like streaky lines with indeterminable meaning, and substitute part illustrations so that it is impossible to distinguish between Screw A and Screw D (both of which I have 24).

To top it all off, a few years ago the Instructions Editor evidentally thought things were getting a little too easy, and so decided to remove all required tools from the package except for the Allen Keys (I’d also love to meet this Allen Guy in a dark alley somewhere, but that’s another post).  So now, not only are the instructions impossible to follow, but they send you scrambling for an assortment of screwdrivers, wrenches, and hammers (some of which are actually needed, while others are just for giggles) before you can even get started.

There is NO doubt in my mind that this Instructions Editor derives immeasurable pleasure and satisfaction from his/her vocation.  Of course, if I had this job, I would never be able to tell my friends and family what I do for a living.  But I would surely see looks on faces of those in my life on a daily basis that reaffirm how well I’m doing my job.