I have been dreading the day my computer finally shits the bed. I’ve read that the average lifespan for a computer is around three years and after that its’ utility degrades sharply. I suppose I should consider myself fortunate that mine made it a whole five.
Lately it has been giving signs that the end is near. I could try to slap some more bandages on it and eke out a few more months, but it would be just my luck that it keels over in the midst of a very busy and important time. Which in my life seems to be every day. It’s not that every day is that important, but not having my computer usually constitutes a disaster if it isn’t on my terms.
With that in mind I bought a new computer today, an 11 inch MacBook Air. A Lady Mac if you will, because it fits so nicely into my purse and makes me feel like a woman.
I love everything about the Apple experience. Going to the Apple store is kind of like visiting a perfect, utopian society where everyone works together to get things done efficiently and without any screaming. I left my old computer at the store so the information could be migrated over to the new one.
My Genius said it could take anywhere between six and 48 hours to get done, depending on how things go. I was thinking about dinner later that day and trying to decide whether to start the rice, which is something I didn’t want to do if I was going to get a call saying that my spiffy new computer was ready. So I called. And they put me on hold. And I experienced my first MacBummer.
Have you noticed how some businesses play hold music that is shitty and tinny to begin with but disintegrates into static at regular intervals? And you know it isn’t a bad connection because whenever you get the, “Due to unexpected traffic, we are experiencing unusual wait times. Thank you for your patience.” it’s crystal clear.
This hold music is engineered to make you go away. It is designed to be so grating, so annoying, so vexing to your ears that you eventually say fuckit and hang up and hopefully forget to call back. It’s like bug repellant for those seeking customer service. I have a terribly low opinion of any business that uses this service, because it is a service. I thought it was the milieu of the airlines credit card processing companies.
Apple, how could you? I thought you cared about me. I thought you wanted me to be happy, my questions to be answered, and my self feeling all warm and fuzzy and heard. This is deeply disenchanting. What next? Disgruntled geniuses that don’t know shit? Blue shirts that are nowhere to be found when you need them? Is this because
Bill Steve is gone?
Time to cut the crap.
I’m pretty sure I tried to get rid of this bullhorn before but the kids fished it out of the garbage. I’m gonna try again. The toothpaste was left by a visitor and Lonny is very precious about his toothpaste. And mouthwash. He’ll wear underwear he got secondhand but will only brush his teeth with red Closeup and blue Scope. An off-brand won’t do. Then there is a piece of a puzzle I don’t have and a mousepad. I was informed by the Genius that mice are out and trackpads are in. TRASH.
Crafts from camp. Can you guess what they are? Dragonflies! Duh. Lovingly TRASHED.
A straw helicopter and a Hotwheel. I guess I could donate the Hotwheel but I’m feeling lazy. TRASH.
A brush someone left behind, a giant Bakugan and a stupid McDonald toy. DONATE.