Monday, November 29, 2010

Miles Standish, Eat Your Heart Out

I'm home to rest after days of Thanksgiving overindulgence on the right coast. While there's much to be thankful for, I'm mostly thankful I only gained a pound. But not for lack of trying.
     
      Usually the Friday after the birdfest is for leftovers and a movie, but this year, friends [three of us] and family [sixteen of them] piled into cars and drove west to the Delaware Valley to an organic cheese farm, which included a running commentary by a tattooed cheesemaker as he sliced us tasty morsels from some scary looking slabs o' unpasturized grass feed milk-based fromage. Mmmm, delish, actually. I'll take a half a pound of that one and a half a pound of that one. And a loaf of that roasted garlic, duck fat ciabatta.
      After bravely going where no suburban cheese shopper has gone before, I enjoyed watching the others spend their dough during a round of antiquing in several little river towns on both the NJ and PA sides of the river around the New Hope area. 
      Since I'm allergic to shopping unless I have to, I found a cafe that featured expensive hot chocolate [sadly, it was only Swiss Miss], plus a tantalizing assortment of homemade cinnamon donuts for purchase to accompany the pricey cup of cocoa. The huge amount of cinnamon sugar in every crack and crevice of the donuts more than adequately made up for the odd shape of these small, yet heavy as lead, confections, which I had no problem finishing.
      This brief respite was followed by even more food at a charming old inn across a bridge to the PA side. The repast included onion soup with four kinds of cheese, spinach salad, a hot spinach/crab dip with wedges of pita. Some of us then attempted to take holiday pictures in front of an old mill back on the NJ side, with a rooster, two cats, and a couple of geese stopping by to see what the fuss was all about. They were lucky not to be eaten. Then back to northern NJ for leftovers and a movie. Something with Ashton Kutcher and Jennifer Garner. 
      Saturday we got on a bus to NYC to see the show at Radio City [for the little kids] or the Big Apple Circus [for the big ones]. The circus offered complimentary hot dogs, a bucket of popcorn or cotton candy, plus a soft drink to go with the clowns, the trapeze artist, the manic Haitian acrobats, the lady with a foreign accent who drove white ponies around and around the ring, and the tiny Asian girls who could bend their bodies into paper clips. All of which was followed by power shopping for some, walking amidst the sidewalk throngs for others, and meeting up at 6:00 for, what else? FOOD! at the Sea Grill in Rockefeller Center. We finished the meal with obscene chocolate ganache-type desserts, while amateur skaters provided an entertaining backdrop behind us. 
      Figuring that riding public transportation into the city was enough hanging with the real people, we rented a big van to take us home. Once home we watched a movie, this time with Ashton Kutcher and Katherine Heigl. And snacked on the endless leftovers. 
      Sunday was reserved for a round of November golf, most notable for how hard it is to get any distance with cold dead golf balls on hard, dry turf. My only sustenance for four hours in the 46 degree weather was a leftover Milky Way I found in my purse. But I was a trooper, riding in the cart, taking video until the juice in my camera ran out, just as a herd of wild turkeys came into view. Afterward, it was back to the house for more leftovers and yet another Ashton Kutcher movie. Wait, this time it was Gerard Butler and Katherine Heigl. They all look alike.
      Today, as the last of us headed home, we all agreed that a few more days just to hang would be nice. Watch some football LIVE for a change. Maybe catch another Ashton Kutcher/Katherine Heigl/Gerard Butler/Jennifer Garner flick. And suck up the last of the leftovers. That 30-pound turkey and fifteen pound ham are going to take a long, long, time. 

Thursday, November 4, 2010

The Genius Bar

What ever possessed some arrogant Mac SOB to decide that a group of homogenized salespeople in cheap blue t-shirts and torn jeans deserve to be called GENIUSES? And what overpriced Apple marketing wizard then decided they should call their service department a GENIUS BAR? 
Like it takes a GENIUS to insert a diagnostics software cord, read the subsequent printout, open the case and snap in a replacement part. As someone who once opened up her old PC and replaced just about everything inside but the hard drive and the motherboard, I know the difference between Einstein and a beer stein. And most of the people in an Apple Store look like they're two minutes from a couple of Buds. 
I'll have a cold one. . .
If the recent experience I had with my MacBookPro is any indication, Apple's top to bottom arrogance, while well deserved in many ways, has finally crossed the line from annoying to pain in my ass. 

My year old laptop was having moments when the screen would go black, then recover, then go black, then recover again. Plus everything had slowed wa-a-a-y down. Most of the IT guys I know were thinking I had a video card problem. The main question I got was "Have you backed up everything?" 

So I made an appointment online that day to go to my Apple Store. Apparently you have to make an appointment to see a GENIUS. That evening, as I walked toward the crowded GENIUS BAR -- it is actually a bar -- I wondered if anyone would ask to help me. Especially since I had an appointment. Of course, they didn't. 

After ten minutes, someone who was giving a one-on-one tutorial decided he could multi-task and plugged my computer into a diagnostic cord for initial evaluation. Apparently nothing was wrong, so I'd have to leave my laptop for a more thorough diagnosis. Since I needed my computer for the next three days, I said I would come back on Monday. 

Here's what followed: I got an email from Apple with a questionnaire wanting to know about the service I received. I said it was okay, but nothing special. This was followed quickly by a phone call from the store manager who set me up with a time on Monday for my next GENIUS meeting.

On Monday evening, the young woman GENIUS who took care of me was thorough, asking lots of questions, taking many notes and telling me that I should back up my hard drive. She sold me an external drive which she said would be ready for me that night or the next day while they waited for a new logic board. She estimated three to five days to fix my computer, i.e. replace the board. Saturday at the latest. She gave me her card which had an Apple on it and GENIUS under that, as if that were her name. Her real name was somewhere down at the bottom of the card.

I heard nothing all week. 

Friday, I call -- what's going on? 
• Well, your external hard drive was ready on Tuesday. 
• So why didn't you let me know? I thought you would call me. What about the part I need? Will my computer be ready to pick up tomorrow, Saturday? 
• Um, no, because the part that arrived was no good. And we won't get another one until next week. [Not only did I have to have a major part replaced after only a year, the replacement part they sent was also bad, what GENIUSES those Mac folks are!] 
• So when were you going to call me? 
• You were on the list to be called tonight. [It was already 8:30] Your computer won't be ready now until Wednesday. 
• Wednesday? I need my computer for work. 
• Well, the earliest the part will get here is Monday. 
• Morning or afternoon? 
• Could be either. 
• Do I have to call you every day to find out when it arrives? Do I have to stay on top of this or are you going to keep me posted? 
• Well --
• Wait a minute -- I've got a bone to pick. First let me say how offended I am by the GENIUS BAR. You people aren't GENIUSES. You're salespeople. Second, your job is SERVICE. And so far you aren't very good at that. . .blah blah blah piss and moan. I also asked the guy what had happened to Apple quality -- I'd paid a lot of money for a computer that crashed after a little over a year. And the first replacement part wasn't any better.

That was on Friday night. 

On Sunday, I got a call. Mrs. Linklater [that's actually what they called me, LOL] your computer is ready.
• It is, how? 
* Actually, It was ready yesterday. 
* Yesterday? Saturday? With a new working part?
* Yes.

Apparently I'd bitched and moaned so much on Friday, they ordered the part for overnight SATURDAY delivery. Or got one from another Apple Store in the area. So my computer was ready on Saturday, the original promise date. 

Naturally because Apple Store service is so lackadaisical, nobody called to tell me until Sunday. Hey, all you GENIUSES, I could have picked it up on Saturday. You waited until Sunday to call and now I'm out of town all day, so I can't get the computer until Monday.  
When I came in on Monday, the GENIUS who gave me my repaired computer forgot to give me the external hard drive I'd purchased for backup. 

I suppose I could have remembered to ask for it, but then, I'm not a f**king GENIUS.