I had been without a phone for 2 months. I was living in 1993, and it was not nearly as fun as it had been the first time around. I finally got a little cash and my dilemma became: How do I get my car with its flat tire towed without a functioning phone? How do I get to the Apple store without a functioning car? When I'd finally had enough, I asked a gentle soul on Facebook chat if he would call the Apple store for me. Yes they did, in fact, have iPhone 4's in stock. I then asked my friend to call a cab for me, which he did.
On the way to the Grove mall, my cab powerfully sideswiped two parked cars, sheering the side view mirror completely off of one of them, a red van. My taxi had its own wounds; while the casing of the side view remained intact, the mirror itself had flown off like a rocket trying to escape an uncomfortable situation. My gut reaction was to exclaim "Holy shit!" (which I did), but this made no difference to my cabbie (whose name was not on display, for obvious reasons). He immediately got on the horn with dispatch and ordered a new mirror from Pep Boys, the whole time glancing in the rear view to make sure I wasn't already on the phone with the cops. Had I had a phone I would've been, but alas, there was my mission at hand....
When we arrived at the Grove, I considered bargaining with my poor-sighted chauffeur. "I could get a free ride out of this if I swear not to snitch," I thought. But then some angelic hold came over me and I decided better. Pay the full amount and call the cops. That's what a good Samaritan would do; it was the right thing, and that's what I did. Independent Taxi #1063. I will never forget that number, as I bore it into my mind with all the determination of a girl with a bad memory who can't find a pen.
Once in the Apple haven, I got in line. I decided to continue being a good person by standing behind other numbskulls who were either too nice or too stupid to storm up to an employee and demand to be helped on the spot. I was struck by the overall attractiveness of the staff, but then I remembered that they were all actors and I should stop being so enamored by these nerds. Finally, Garrett approached. He had a goatee and a sweet smile; I could tell before he spoke that he was the kind of not-so-smart-but-strangely-witty guy I often find myself falling for. Garrett asked me what he could help me with, and we started talking about the iPhone 4.
After a few moments, I mentioned the 32GB, but Garrett quickly cut me off and informed me that the store had only 16GB phones. I removed my sunglasses in a very Caruso-esque manner and exclaimed, "WHAT?!" I immediately explained that I had had someone call the store and that it was my fault that I had failed to specify that I wanted the 32GB. One look at Garrett's reaction to my sob story showed me the way: He liked a damsel in distress. I turned on the lip-quivering, eye-watering, nose-sniffling show and started into my tale: "My phone died and then my car got a flat and I had to take a cab here and I have to take a cab back and..." Garrett, eyes full of pity, asked me how much I had paid for the taxi. $20, I said (which was the truth). He looked around, the way cartoon villains do when they're being especially bad. He asked me to follow him upstairs, which I did despite the crippling vertigo that kept me clinging to the railing for dear life and trying my hardest not to look anywhere near the clear glass steps (you know, the ones the Apple people seem to think are such a wonderfully fancy idea).
After a few minutes, Garrett appeared, 32GB in hand. He explained that he had stolen it from someone who had reserved it, but considering that I had taken a cab and all....
I had fun with Garrett while we installed apps and transferred my number from those evil bastards at T-Mobile. In the end.... well, maybe Garrett's coworkers will read this, so let's just say that he was a wonderful customer service associate. This is my first iPhone 4 photo, a Hipstamatic, of that day's favorite person: Garrett at the Grove Apple Store.
On the way to the Grove mall, my cab powerfully sideswiped two parked cars, sheering the side view mirror completely off of one of them, a red van. My taxi had its own wounds; while the casing of the side view remained intact, the mirror itself had flown off like a rocket trying to escape an uncomfortable situation. My gut reaction was to exclaim "Holy shit!" (which I did), but this made no difference to my cabbie (whose name was not on display, for obvious reasons). He immediately got on the horn with dispatch and ordered a new mirror from Pep Boys, the whole time glancing in the rear view to make sure I wasn't already on the phone with the cops. Had I had a phone I would've been, but alas, there was my mission at hand....
When we arrived at the Grove, I considered bargaining with my poor-sighted chauffeur. "I could get a free ride out of this if I swear not to snitch," I thought. But then some angelic hold came over me and I decided better. Pay the full amount and call the cops. That's what a good Samaritan would do; it was the right thing, and that's what I did. Independent Taxi #1063. I will never forget that number, as I bore it into my mind with all the determination of a girl with a bad memory who can't find a pen.
Once in the Apple haven, I got in line. I decided to continue being a good person by standing behind other numbskulls who were either too nice or too stupid to storm up to an employee and demand to be helped on the spot. I was struck by the overall attractiveness of the staff, but then I remembered that they were all actors and I should stop being so enamored by these nerds. Finally, Garrett approached. He had a goatee and a sweet smile; I could tell before he spoke that he was the kind of not-so-smart-but-strangely-witty guy I often find myself falling for. Garrett asked me what he could help me with, and we started talking about the iPhone 4.
After a few moments, I mentioned the 32GB, but Garrett quickly cut me off and informed me that the store had only 16GB phones. I removed my sunglasses in a very Caruso-esque manner and exclaimed, "WHAT?!" I immediately explained that I had had someone call the store and that it was my fault that I had failed to specify that I wanted the 32GB. One look at Garrett's reaction to my sob story showed me the way: He liked a damsel in distress. I turned on the lip-quivering, eye-watering, nose-sniffling show and started into my tale: "My phone died and then my car got a flat and I had to take a cab here and I have to take a cab back and..." Garrett, eyes full of pity, asked me how much I had paid for the taxi. $20, I said (which was the truth). He looked around, the way cartoon villains do when they're being especially bad. He asked me to follow him upstairs, which I did despite the crippling vertigo that kept me clinging to the railing for dear life and trying my hardest not to look anywhere near the clear glass steps (you know, the ones the Apple people seem to think are such a wonderfully fancy idea).
After a few minutes, Garrett appeared, 32GB in hand. He explained that he had stolen it from someone who had reserved it, but considering that I had taken a cab and all....
I had fun with Garrett while we installed apps and transferred my number from those evil bastards at T-Mobile. In the end.... well, maybe Garrett's coworkers will read this, so let's just say that he was a wonderful customer service associate. This is my first iPhone 4 photo, a Hipstamatic, of that day's favorite person: Garrett at the Grove Apple Store.
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