I had made an appointment at the Apple store, and rushed like a crazy person to be there on time. Sadly, the twenty five thousand staff members didn't seem to have quite the same sense of urgency, because they sent me over to sit at a table with several other people (including one man who appeared to be a homeless person who came to use the free WiFi and a woman who I could actually hear seething) for at least another fifteen minutes.
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| Artist's Impression Of My iPad Screen |
I killed time swatting at the five year old on my leg and hacking into the Apple Store computer (which involved swiping the screen and pressing one button). I discovered that I was described on their appointment list as 'Woman In Multi-Coloured Singlet', which pleased me, as alternative titles could well have been 'Tired Looking Middle Aged Mother With Fuzzy Hair', 'Chick With One Enormous Sticky-Out Ear' or 'Person Attached To Extremely Loud And Annoying Five Year Old'.
Finally, a pleasant looking twelve year old dude with roguish long hair came over to serve me.
"So what seems to be the problem?" he asked.
"My screen is broken," I said. "I can hear the iPad working, but the screen is dead."
"Ah..." he nodded wisely. "That's difficult, because the screen is one of the most important parts."
I nodded too. "Yes," I agreed. "Because without the screen you can't actually see anything."
He nodded again, a little uncertainly this time. "Um... well, I'll just go see if I can restore the screen with *insert technical term I didn't understand here*".
"Okay," I said, and rubbed my leg where the five year old was gnawing on it.
A few minutes later the twelve year old returned with my iPad.
"Unfortunately the *insert technical term I didn't understand here* didn't fix the problem. You will have to purchase a new iPad at *insert price that made me weep here*."
"Okay," I said, and rubbed my eyes where the tears were flowing. Given, I had no idea whether he was telling the truth or not, as I a) didn't understand the technical term, and b) had no idea whether he actually performed said technical thingy that I didn't understand. But I had absolutely no choice. He was twelve, and I knew nothing about fixing iPads, so I handed over the money.
Which leaves me here, now, with my brand new iPad and a lot less money. Bruised, but not broken.
Okay, a little bit broken. But less broken than my poor old iPad. At least, according to the twelve year old. Who may or may not have been telling the truth....
Yup. Can somebody please pass the vodka?
