Did you know that “screens of death” are not limited to the color blue? When your MacBook Air clutches its throat, twirls around four times, tosses its head back with its tongue dangling out the side, falls to its knees, and keels over with black Xs where its eyes used to be, you might need to make a phone call.
This happened to me. The next thing I know, I’m standing at the edge of chaos, staring into the depths of Claustrophobiaville (aka The Apple Store at Arden Fair Mall), clutching my little baby tight to my chest. I stare into the Store of the Apple with nothing but dread and despair as forty-three thousand other customers vie for help, or play games on the hundreds of gadgets plugged into outlets that litter the store.
It’s just after Christmas, which is essentially rush hour for gift cards. And I was caught up in it, bracing myself for the fact that I was about to sit through five red lights before getting my turn at the intersection. I wish I’d brought someone with me so that I could have at least moved into the car pool lane.
All of a sudden, some twelve-year-old in a red polo shirt sidles up to me with an iPad in his arms.
“How can I help you today?”
“Uh, my hard drive crashed.”
“Do you have an appointment?”
I did. You do not just show up to a small city bursting at the seams without an appointment.
Later, at the back of the store, at the “Genius Bar” (not making this up), where another red-shirted pre-pubescent boy whose name tag said “Genius” (also not making this up) took my baby from me. But he was very nice about it, speaking to me in a voice that hadn’t cracked yet. Also? He recovered the one critical file I absolutely had to have. Oh, did mention that I never did any backups on my laptop? Of any kind? Whatsoever? Ever? Yeah.
It’s not like my MacBook is my primary machine. My desktop PC is where I store all my crucial stuff. Speaking of which, I should probably be backing that machine up as well.
Anyway, the next day I came back to the Store of Red Shirts to pick it up and thankfully never had to wade my way to the back. To the Genius Bar. Instead, some genius, and this one was at least ten years old as he claimed to be attending college, met me near the front somewhere next to a display of new iPhones. He returned my laptop to me and whipped out his cell phone (or his iPod Touch or whatever it was) and rang me up.
I believe you didn’t hear me…
I said, HE RANG ME UP ON HIS CELL PHONE.
And I’m not talking about the calling kind of ringing up, I’m talking about the “That’ll be $140 dollars, please - credit or debit” kind of ringing up.
…and then he emailed me the receipt.
You know, Apple gadgetry has the reputation for being sexy and if a retail transaction could ever be considered sexy… I mean I just swooned when I got home and printed out my little receipt.
In PDF format.
{HEAVING GIRLY SIGH}
Some "Best Of Sacramento" articles I wrote for CBS
