“May I help you?” the congenial salesperson greeted us.
I took a deep breath, imbibing the Macintosh vibe, checking out the crisp white décor, and the latest in hip technology. “Honestly, I’m just happy to be here.”
Although I own an iBook, an iPhone, an iMac, and a titanium MacBook Pro, I instantly scanned the merchandise before making an appointment at the “genius bar” to fix my 8GB iPhone. The “genius bar” is literally a bar, but no drinks. The bartenders are dubbed geniuses because they’re supposed to fix whatever technological problem you have.
I happened to be there with Jean Kingston – and we were on our way to discuss this blog – this very blog – which purports to raise kids who are not slaves to consumerism.
I played it cool. After all, I am the one who was supposed to have a handle on these things.
But, after I consulted with a “genius” about my poorly performing iPhone, he said I might just need a new phone.
Jean hit me in the side. “A new one?!”
Jean laughed at being helped by someone called “genius.” Once she walked into the store with a litany of problems, and the guy looked at her with much concern and regret.
“I’m sorry ma’am. I’m not a genius,” he said. “I wish I were, but I’m not.”
Please keep here -- you'll see we haven't even gotten our blog name up there yet!
Thanks!

0 comments:
Post a Comment