Sunday, February 1, 2009

Good Work, Mac Genius.

A couple weeks ago, I was left guessing at the Apple Store and decided I needed to clear up confusion over the hierarchy of Store employees. Needless to say, I was being my regular douchebag self and only meant it in jest.

Earlier this week, my laptop hard drive decided it wanted to die. It commited a slow suicide. It even left a note, "Dear Sir, You drove me to this. Please stop watching so much porn. Sincerely, Macbook Pro."

So I had to take my laptop in to get the hard drive replaced. I made an online appointment with the Mac Genuis Bar and, as instructed, I showed up at The Apple Store in the Eaton Centre five minutes before my scheduled appointment (I had to guess which colour shirted-people I was allowed to talk to, yet again, but I finally got to talk to one of the elite dark-blue shirted Mac Geniuses.)

I told him I needed a new hard drive. So what does he do? He runs a diagnostic and tells me I need a new hard drive (Who's the genius now?) So I drop it off Friday after lunch and he says I can pick it up Sunday.

Then, lo and behold, I get a message from Apple at 5:00 that same afternoon saying my laptop is ready. Already!

They even used the iKleen wipes to give it a good scrubbing, then returned it looking new. The girl who returned it to me said, "Here's your baby back," with a cheerful smile.

I don't know what being a father feels like, but I bet it feels like zipping your new-again Macbook Pro into its neoprene case and strolling out of the Apple Store. Actually, come to think of it, I think I gave it a new life.

Maybe I am a father.

On the way out of the mall, I was confronted by dozens (and, after a short trip down the street, I realized it was more like thousands) of people protesting to gain attention for war-torn Sri Lanka.

Now, there’s nothing wrong with their cause. They’re looking for action and attention. They want help. But I’ll tell you what I hate about protesters. You know how they’re looking for help? By screaming and menacingly sticking pamphlets in your face.

Well, what the hell? Why are you yelling at me? I didn’t do anything wrong!


Hey, why does Tim Hortons put the sandwich-making instructions on top of the sandwich station lid?

When the lid is open - like when you’re making my sandwich - you can’t see how to make my sandwich!


  1. Birth fluid. What an ugly combination of words. You didn't know you were a father? I'm so thrilled that you forgot about our fur baby, for which you owe past due dog support to me, his mother. Pay up.

    As far as peculiar food service observations...I was in line at Sonic yesterday. I placed my order, drove around to pay, handed the girl my debit card, and she informs me that their debit isn't working. This is how it played out:

    Girl: "Oh, yeah, our debit isn't working."
    Laci: "Ok, well, that's all I have."
    Girl: "I know what! You can drive down to Walmart, buy something, and get cash back! Then you can come back down here and pay for it."

    Even after I left and got cash, my order was wrong and I ended up having to go back to Sonic a third time.

    Totally irrelevant.

  2. I don't have a fun sonic story, but I hear ya on the Tim Hortons thing.
    Plus it's kind of concerning knowing that they don't know how to make my Ham + Swiss.
    That's the only thing Timmy's needs more of, imo...cheese.