Apples to Apples

I'm a Mac user and I love my Mac.  But I hate the Apple Store.  I didn't know what a fevered pitch of loathing I would reach for the Apple Store going in to this relationship.

For one thing, I'm not an Apple Store Mac.  I'm a second hand, behind the scenes, shady deal with an actual secret handshake Mac.  That's just how I roll.  So I was not familiar with the sanctuary of simple and intuitive (I hate that word) computing that is an Apple Store.

But eventually, with all technology, it will come to pass that something will get screwy or need to be replaced.  In this case it was my power cord adaptor.  For whatever reason last Monday my computer stopped recognizing when I plugged it in with my particular adaptor.  It recognized other adaptors and I was just happy I had a reasonably cheap fix.  I mean, it's not like I had to replace the hard drive (again).

I could have ordered it online - it even had free shipping.  But I'm a hope springs eternal kind of gal and despite past misgivings and experiences, I went to the local Apple Store to pick up a new one.  (Well, truthfully I had to get a set of pastry brushes and the Apple Store was in the same location, so I thought two birds, one stone.  I am so efficient!  I was wrong.)

Apple Store:  the word store is in the name.  That implies you can buy stuff there.  There are minimalistic yet sexy displays of electronics to suit your every need that will never go on sale.  But no one willing to take my money.

I knew what I needed; I even brought the old cord with me to eschew any complications.

I made my approach to the temple of clean computing.  One of the guards stopped me and inquired what business I had there.  I showed him my old power cord and said I need a new one.  He smirked, "That is old," and directed me to where the new ones are.  Yes you little emo scab, it's the original but up until last week it worked, so what was the point of replacing it?

Grabbed the box and looked around.  A sea of blue shirts and not a single person who would make eye contact or take my money.

Here is some hard won knowledge of the staff: they have stations that they're not supposed to leave.  So I meander over to a guy and ask to pay for the new cord.  He told me John would be able to help me in just a minute.  "Oh where's John?"  A gesture over the shoulder - that way.  I'm not sure which one of the Apple automatons John is, but none of the guys over there looked like they would be ready to ring me up in  "just a minute".

I smile.  I step closer.  "Okay.  Until John can ring me up, I'm just going to hover uncomfortably close to you."

30 full seconds.

"You know, I can just take care of that for you."

And children, that is the true story of the only time in my life I have gotten out of the Apple Store in under 10 minutes.