Once you go Mac, you never go back

Yesterday was Mac Intervention Day. This is a chronicle of that hellish time.

THE MAC-EPIC CONTINUES…

So, yesterday, we packed up the sick Mac and drove 90 minutes to the nearest Apple service center. The conversation in the car went something like this:

We should have left earlier. We’ll get there at lunch and no one will be there.

If you let me drive…

Hey, before we hit the highway, I want to stop and set up an appointment for that project (you don’t need to know…it’s boring anyway.)

I thought you wanted to get there before lunch.

It’ll only take a sec. Ooops…drove past the entrance. Let me turn around. (We pull a u-turn and get back to the entrance.)

Damn. That’s him. Just missed him. Maybe I’ll follow him and see where he’s going.

I thought you wanted to get there before lunch.

Yeah, you’re right. Let’s hit the highway. I need gas.

*sigh*

Twenty minutes later…

Just make sure your GPS computes up from down.

The street number is 380 but the GPS is saying no such number. It’s giving me 379.

Well, pick that and I’m sure we can find a place one number away.

The GPS is taking me the wrong way. I want to go that way.

How much longer is it if you go the GPS route?

Two minutes.

That’s not so bad.

But I want to check out the new road. Someone told me it’s paved now.

And if it’s not we’ll definitely get there at lunch time.

Okay. Right. I’ll go the usual route. 

Five minutes later we hit construction and the speed limit drops…

They’re probably going to send my Mac off for parts. It could be gone for weeks. Can I use your Mac?

When?

While my Mac is getting fixed.

No. Be more specific. Like, exactly when…what time of the day and for how long.

Well. Just in the morning really. I’m up early and so I’ll make a coffee and google the news. You know. The usual.

You’re not drinking coffee around my Mac.

No, no. I’ll be careful. You’re not up anyway.

Okay. No toast and close the cover when you’re done. 

Construction ends and the speed limit goes back up. We’re still cruising along well below the maximum.

If we don’t speed up it will be lunch time. I’ll drive.

Huh? Oh. Sorry. I was thinking about the Mac. 

Well, I’ll drive then. You seem a bit stressed. It’s all going to work out. This is not a PC we’re talking about. It’s a Mac. And that’s why we got the extended warranty. It’s paying for itself already. Here, pull over.

No. No. I’m good.

(See? Even under stress conditions, the Mister is hard-wired not to let a woman drive. I don’t know if it’s a guy thing or my driving. I suspect it’s my driving. It’s been said I drive like an eighteen year old Italian boy trying out for Indie.)

Finally, after many minutes of trees, trees and more trees (we have a lot of trees around here) the Mister hits the exit ramp and shortly the GPS tells us “you have reached your destination.”

There’s nothing here. It’s the right road but it’s just empty land. We get back on the road and go the other way from the exit and spot the sign for the Apple dealer. It’s exactly 12:01 pm. The Mister is making little whimpering noises so I hustle him inside fast and pray for the best.

If you’re expecting me to write that the place was empty, you’re obviously a PC user. This place was abuzz with activity and lots of smiling people. It was the shortest line I’ve ever had to stand in.

We get to the receptionist and a guy walks out from the back. He looks at the Mister.

Can I help you?

Don’t we have to check in with reception? You know. Do all the paperwork, take a number, all that?

Nope. I can help you.

*shocked silence on our part*

Then the Mister opens his mouth…

You look familiar. Do we know each other?

I don’t think so but you look familiar, too.

Did you used to work in ________?

Yeah, at the Mac Store.

Then we must have met. My office had a contract with the Mac Store. We were the only government department to use Macs.

Wait a minute…(he names the Mister’s former place of business). You worked there and we serviced the computers. Yeah, I remember. Cool. Where do you live now and by the way, my names Davey _________.

*silence*

Okay, this is spooky. That’s our last name!!! Do you know _______?

And so it begins. Living in a small town is all about the “who do you know.” Not like in the big city where who do you know can get you a job (or did before the economy made strangers out of people you’re known for 20 years if they even sniff you’re looking for work.) It’s more about reference points. Everyone seems to be related to everyone else, either through blood or marriage. Every conversation has to cover these points:

Parents names — brothers and sisters — where you were born — who you married — where did you go to school — who your neighbors are — dead people.

A trip into town to the grocery store can last for days. I don’t go into town with the Mister anymore. I get back home and look in the mirror to see I’ve aged two years and the ice cream has melted.

This time, the Mister is obviously well off his game because the conversation quickly gets back to the point. We go over what’s wrong and Davey gets the serial number, confirms it’s still under warranty and tells us they’ll be in touch in two or three days. We said goodbye, gave the Mac a brief hug and headed out to the car.

On the drive home, it was quiet. We were captured by our own thoughts.

For the Mister, relief. A couple of days. Excellent! I can use her laptop.

For me, impending doom. A couple of days. Disaster! He says morning only but it will be like getting someone to give up crack cocaine.

Between yesterday and now, I’ve been on the laptop long enough to post yesterday’s post. I had a 30-minute window of opportunity when he was on the phone telling people about the guy from the Mac Store…where he lived, who he married, where he went to school and names of dead people they knew.

Ten minutes ago, Davey called. The Mac was ready for pick up. It has a new charging unit and new USB port and a replaced USB logic board. All under warranty. And it’s only been a day and a half. Davey must have rushed the job. Maybe he could tell I was walking a fine line. If I could magically transport to anywhere in the world right now it would be 90 minutes north

But I can’t and I don’t need to. Turns out the receptionist has family two towns over from us and she drives down every weekend to visit her father.

Who works at the mill. With the Mister’s nephew. Who went to school with her sister. Who knew the Mister’s father. Who’s now dead. She’ll bring it down with her tomorrow.

What did I learn from all this? Three things.

First. Macs rule.

Second. A day and a half is NOT forever. 

Last. Dead people come in handy.