Apple Store Nightmare

As I mentioned a post earlier, I got my blessed new Galaxy Note 8 and I LOVE IT! Unfortunately when upgrading, we came to realize my son’s phone (which I was bestowing on my youngest), had a cracked screen. Not because the screen protector failed but because he didn’t keep a case on it. I could have slapped him right then and there. To my relief, the salesman added Apple Care Plus onto our account which meant we could go into an Apple store and have the screen repaired for just $29. I made an appointment for after work for tonight to have not only the cracked screen fixed, but my son’s Beat headphones. Apple is slowly taking over the world and recently acquired the Beats brand and I was told I could take those there to be repaired.

Apple Store

I approached the Apple store and had a minor panic attack. So many fucking people and the lights were so bright. Young people, old people, kids, black, white and everyone in between. Peppered between all the customers were the techy Apple associates, holding IPads or conversing with customers. I took a deep breath and opened the door.

‘Where the hell do I go?’ Was my first thought.

I decided to fake it till I make it and walked with purpose, confident I would eventually run into a reservation stand or a help desk. Like this was my plan all along. When I realized the entire front to the back of the store was nothing more than wooden tables, I slowed down and found the first nerd not helping someone. He directed me to a Daria looking 20-something, helping a couple. Apparently, this is how you check in at the Apple store.

After the couple, Daria helped a tall woman wearing earrings the circumference of cookie tins. In the middle of each earring read the word AFRO. In disbelief, I then looked down at the toddler she was attempting to coerce away from the tot-size IPad table. When she realized her attempt was futile, she simply left the child on the bean bag and walked away. Obviously she was practicing the opposite of helicopter parenting.

As I was next in line to be “checked in”, I noticed the stench that was radiating from the child, happily swiping right and left on the IPad. She had junk in her trunk and a lot of it. It’s not like this doody just happened but like a crock pot situation as this diaper had been marinating for at least an hour. I put my hand under my nostrils.

“Let’s move over here,” I said to Daria as she asked for my name. “Someone hasn’t changed their diaper in a long time,” I whispered, pointing to myself but I meant to be pointing to the toddler behind me. It really just looked like I was telling her I had not changed my diaper.

“Not me…the baby.” I yelled-whispered. She just fake-laughed me and continued to ask me questions.

Next, I was guided to one of the last tables. Perhaps I wasn’t “hipster” enough to sit closer to the front? Sure I wasn’t wearing a man-bun or had tats up and down my arms but c’mon. I was wearing a cape and that has to count for something. Perhaps the back is where Apple undesirables are seated? 5 minutes later, guess who’s seated next to me? Earrings and poopy diaper. I just turned to the wall and said, “what the fuck,” under my breath. All the other tables in this place and the sit her next to me. Look, I get that kids crap their diapers at the worst time. What I don’t get is when parents don’t immediately rectify the situation.

Was the Phone Fixed?

My tech was a young black guy who fit the part of a tech nerd to a t. He would fit easily in any start-up in Silicon Valley. I thought my luck was changing because this dude was going to knock it out of the park and have me on my way. Then he sneezed and sniffled.

“You sick?” I asked, genuinely concerned.

“Getting over it. Perfect timing, right before finals.” He responded.

‘I’m going to get sick,’ was the first thing I thought. I made a mental note to keep my hands away from my face and wash my hands in hot soapy water the minute I got home.

“Oh, I have bad news. I don’t see your account has Apple Care Plus,” he told me while displaying his IPad for my viewing.

“But the nice Sprint guy said he put it on there.” I said like a kid who was promised ice cream then denied. “Let me check my plan.” I said as I took out my phone, going to the Sprint app.

“Ok, I’ll take a look at your Beats while you check on that.” Beep, bop boop….he scans the Beats box and types a few things in.

“Oh dear, I’m afraid I have more bad news,” he says with a super fake, frownie face. “These are out of warranty. If we sent these away, that means they would fix them and you would have to pay for them.”

“But can’t you just take them apart and figure out what’s wrong?” I protested.

“I’m sorry. You know, it’s Cyber Monday and you could find a really good deal on these today.”

I looked at him in disbelief. Wow fuck face, it’s Cyber Monday? I had no idea. I only build my purchasing pattern for the entire year around Black Friday and Cyber Monday.

“Well this was a big fat waste of my time,” I said, boxing up the Beats. “This sucks,” I said as I lost composure. I threw everything in my bag, yanked out my Galaxy Note 8 from my clutch and spoke the following text to my husband so everyone could hear as I walked out: