23 Jun The Apple Store

Walking into an Apple Store is not like walking into a WalMart. You saunter into an Apple Store . . . you know, with an attitude.

You stroll in taking slow, long steps. Your head moves front to back to the beat of the iPod in your pocket. You wear all black, your hair a tad disheveled. You are in the know when you walk in the Apple Store.

It was time to get an iPhone for my trip to New York. After trying unsuccessfully to order it online, I decide to take on The Store. Unfortunately, I’d been running since before six that morning – no make-up, wearing an old aqua flowered skirt, my hair pulled back. I was no more coiffed to go into THE Apple Store than the man in the moon. But I  didn’t care.

I was up against the clock and needed to get that phone in my hands quickly, get it programmed, app’d, sync’d and whatever else you do with an iPhone . . . because I was leaving for New York in 4 short days.

Ok, I walk in. Three nice young men greet me at the door. They take one look at me {a very long pregnant pause} and finally one asks, “May I help you?”

“Need an iPhone,” I answer, and whip out my old $24.99 phone that looks like it’s been through World War III. It’s held together with masking tape, mind you.

These nice young men look at each other and two of them immediately disappear. They wouldn’t be caught dead holding ‘a brick’ as they’re called. You know, those big old, cheap plastic phones that you can only buy at WalMart, years ago.

I can’t begin to describe the next 90 minutes. Professional as he could be, patient . . . but it took him showing me three times how to make a simple phone call. It was the longest hour ‘n half that poor guy had ever spent in his life.

Yep, I had a delightful time buying my iPhone. Loved learning about my new toy. If you need a salesman who’ll spend plenty of time with you, teach you all about technology, A to Z, listen to you bitch about 2-year contracts, and be patient enough to hear all about your children, ask for Gary. I hope he still works there.