I kid you not, I’m sandwiched between:
- my partner giving some poor Apple employee a 20-Questions interrogation on the intricate features of iMac accessibility and the remote possibility that the screen and OS can accommodate his low-vision conundrum, and
- an earphone clad lad who seems to have a gamer’s version of Tourette’s
And through the din, clueless fossilizing Baby Boomers in scratchy demanding voices are making sure that hippy Apples can still wizbang their Microsoft spreadsheets together.
Truth be told, I’m one of them. I mean, not the Baby Boomer part, but there’s something about walking into an Apple store that makes me feel like a cross between a premature granny and the faint distant notion that in a parallel universe I actually fit in with this crowd.
I am simply itching to leave the PC world. Crashes, “illegal operation errors”, viruses, blue screens of death, and software bugs grew very old a long time ago. I’ve also since tired of the rent-your-software agenda, forced upgrades, exposed collusion between software and hardware manufacturers over privacy compromise, and registration processes that better resemble “mother may I?” groveling for parental permission.
Let’s not even mention the annual open-heart computer surgery in which my partner and my office are thoroughly occupied with defiant malfunctions that make no sense and tiny screws, at least one or two of which never seem to make it back into the machine. Don’t ask.
What a pleasant surprise it was to me then, to walk straight into the Apple store and find sleek-looking toys, smoothed edged monitors with crystal-clear resolution, and a generous offering of downright useful software titles.
Price is another matter, of course. It’s like buying SCSI versus IEEE. It’s rock solid, but you will pay. The stark difference that hits you like bricks and then stares you down? You actually get what it is you’re paying for.
I have a personal policy against getting my hopes up before the fat lady sings; after all, I don’t actually have one of these yet. I salivate in anticipation, but I never know exactly when that day will come. An eternal optimist, I do keep in mind that our particular Christmas celebration hasn’t happened yet. So maybe Santa will deliver after all; maybe he just got stuck with a “green” car this year.
I think my partner actually proceeded to a 21st question. But the gamer kid on my left is history; maybe the Adderall wore off…